Rendezvous (23 page)

Meredith obediently got to her feet to greet Augusta. Her somber gaze held a hint of wariness and not a little uncertainty.

“Good morning, madam.”

“Meredith,” Clarissa said sharply. “You know his lordship specifically instructed you to call her ladyship
Mama
.”

“Yes, Aunt Clarissa. But I cannot do that. She is not my mama.”

Augusta winced and waved Clarissa Fleming to silence. “I thought we agreed you could call me whatever you like, Meredith. You may call me Augusta, if you wish. You do not need to call me Mama.”

“Papa says I must.”

“Yes, well, your father can be a bit autocratic at times.”

Clarissa’s eyes sparkled in disapproval. “Really, madam.”

“What does autocratic mean?” Meredith asked, genuinely curious.

“It means your father is rather overfond of giving orders,” Augusta explained.

Clarissa’s expression turned from disapproval to one of outrage in the blink of an eye. “Madam, I cannot allow you to criticize his lordship in front of his daughter.”

“I would not dream of doing so. I was simply noting an undeniable aspect of his lordship’s character. I doubt he would deny it himself, were he present.” Augusta twirled her beribboned bonnet and started ambling around the room.

“Describe your curriculum to me, if you will, please, Meredith.”

“Mathematics, classical studies, natural philosophy, and the use of globes in the morning,” Meredith said politely. “French, Italian, and history in the afternoons.”

Augusta nodded. “Certainly a well-rounded selection of studies for a nine-year-old girl. Did your father design it for you?”

“Yes, madam.”

“His lordship takes a great personal interest in his daughter’s curriculum,” Clarissa said darkly. “He would most likely not welcome any criticism of it.”

“Most likely not.” Augusta paused in front of a familiar-looking volume. “Ah-hah. What have we here?”

“Lady Prudence Ballinger’s
Instructions on Behavior and Deportment for Young Ladies
,” Clarissa said in forbidding
tones. “Your esteemed aunt’s highly instructional work is one of Meredith’s favorite books, is it not, Meredith?”

“Yes, Aunt Clarissa.” Meredith, however, did not look overly enthusiastic about the book.

“Personally, I found it a deadly bore,” Augusta said.

“
Madam
,” Clarissa said in a strangled voice. “I must ask that you refrain from giving my charge the wrong impression.”

“Nonsense. I am sure any girl with spirit would find my aunt’s books exceedingly dull. All those depressing rules on how to drink one’s tea and eat one’s cake. And all that nonsense about appropriate conversational topics to be memorized. You must have something more interesting around here to study. What are these?” Augusta examined another set of heavy, leather-bound tomes.

“Books of ancient Greek and Roman history,” Clarissa said, looking as though she were prepared to defend their presence in the schoolroom with her last breath.

“Of course. I should have expected a sizable collection of such materials, given Graystone’s personal interests, hmm? And this little book?” She held up another dull-looking volume.

“Mangnall’s
Historical and Miscellaneous Questions for the Use of Young People
, of course,” Clarissa responded tartly. “I am certain even you will agree it is most appropriate to the schoolroom, madam. You were doubtless instructed with it yourself. Meredith can recite the answers to a great many of the questions in that book already.”

“I am sure she can.” Augusta smiled at Meredith. “I, on the other hand, can barely remember any of the answers, except possibly the one about where nutmeg grows. But then, I have been told I have a rather frivolous turn of mind.”

“Surely not, madam,” Clarissa said tightly. “His lordship would never have—” she broke off, flushing a dull red.

“His lordship would never have married a frivolous sort of female?” Augusta gave the older woman a bright,
inquiring glance. “Is that what you were about to say, Miss Fleming?”

“I was not going to say any such thing. I would never dream of commenting on his lordship’s personal affairs.”

“Do not concern yourself with such niceties. I comment on his personal affairs all the time. And I can assure you, I am decidedly frivolous and irresponsible on occasion. As it happens, this morning is one of those occasions. I have come to collect Meredith and take her out with me on a picnic.”

Meredith stared at her in astonishment. “A picnic?”

“Would you like that?” Augusta smiled at her.

Clarissa clutched a quill so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I fear that is quite impossible, madam. His lordship is most strict about Meredith’s studies. They are not to be interrupted for any
frivolous
reasons.”

Augusta arched her brows with gentle rebuke. “I beg your pardon, Miss Fleming. As it happens, I am in need of a guide to show me around the grounds of the estate. His lordship is locked in the library with his steward, so I have decided to ask Meredith if she will act in his stead. As we will be gone for some time, I have naturally requested that cook prepare us a picnic lunch.”

Clarissa looked dubious and resentful, but she was obviously well aware there was not much she could do without the earl to back her up. And the earl, Augusta had been quick to point out, was unavailable.

“Very well, madam.” Clarissa drew herself up stiffly. “Meredith may go with you to act as your guide this morning. But in future, I shall expect the routine of the schoolroom to be respected.” Her eyes glittered with warning. “And I am certain his lordship will support me on this matter.”

“No doubt,” Augusta murmured. She looked at Meredith, whose expression was as unreadable as her father’s could be on occasion. “Shall we go, Meredith?”

“Yes, madam. I mean, Augusta.”

•  •  •

“Your home is very lovely, Meredith.”

“Yes, I know.” Meredith walked sedately down the lane beside Augusta. She was wearing a very plain, close bonnet that matched her equally plain dress.

It was difficult to tell what thoughts were going through her mind. Meredith had obviously inherited Harry’s ability to keep his expression unreadable.

Thus far the child had been polite, but far from chatty. Augusta was counting on the pleasantly crisp day and the exercise to encourage conversation. If all else failed, she supposed she could always ask Meredith to recite the answers to Mangnall’s
Historical and Miscellaneous Questions for the Use of Young People
.

“I used to live in a nice house in Northumberland,” Augusta said, swinging the picnic basket she was carrying.

“What happened to it?”

“It was sold after my parents died.”

Meredith slanted Augusta a startled, sidelong glance. “Your mama and papa are both dead?”

“Yes. I lost them when I was eighteen. I miss them very much sometimes.”

“I miss Papa very much when he goes away for weeks and weeks at a time like he did during the war. I am glad he is home now.”

“Yes, I imagine you are.”

“I hope he stays home.”

“I am certain he will for the most part. I believe your father prefers the country.”

“When he went off to London at the beginning of The Season to find a wife, he said it was a
necessity
.”

“Rather like taking a purge, I should imagine.”

Meredith nodded soberly. “No doubt. Aunt Clarissa told me he had to find a wife so that he could get an heir.”

“Your father is a man who is very conscious of his duty.”

“Aunt Clarissa said he would find a
paragon of a female who would follow in my mother’s illustrious footsteps
.”

Augusta stifled a groan. “A difficult task. I saw the portrait of your mother in the picture gallery last night. She was, as you said, very beautiful.”

“I told you so.” Meredith wrinkled her brow. “Papa says beauty is not everything in a woman, though. He says there are other, more important things. He says a virtuous woman has a price beyond rubies. Is that not a pretty phrase? Papa writes very well, you know.”

“I do not want to disillusion you,” Augusta muttered, “but your papa did not exactly invent that phrase himself.”

Meredith shrugged without apparent concern. “He could have, if he had wished to do so. Papa is very smart. He used to play the most complicated word games you have ever seen.”

“Really?”

Meredith began to show some real enthusiasm at last as she warmed to her favorite topic, her papa. “When I was little I saw him working on one in the library one day and asked him what he was doing. He said he was solving a very important puzzle.”

Augusta tipped her head, curious. “What was the name of the game?”

Meredith frowned. “I do not recall. It was a long time ago. I was just a child. I remember it had something to do with a spider’s web.”

Augusta stared down at the top of Meredith’s bonnet. “A spider’s web? Are you quite certain?”

“I believe so. Why?” Meredith lifted her head to peer up at her from beneath the brim of the bonnet. “Do you know the game?”

“No.” Augusta shook her head slowly. “But my brother once gave me a poem named ‘The Spider’s Web.’ I have always found the poem very strange. I never really understood it. In fact, I never even knew my brother wrote poetry until he gave that particular verse to me.”

There was no need to mention the fact that the paper on which the poem had been written had been indelibly stained with her brother’s blood and that the verse itself was unpleasant.

But Meredith was off on a new tangent. “You have a brother?”

“Yes. But he died two years ago.”

“Oh. I am very sorry. I expect he is in heaven like my mother.”

Augusta smiled wistfully. “That depends on whether the lord allows Northumberland Ballingers into heaven. Now, if Richard had been a Hampshire Ballinger, I am certain there would have been no question. But with a Northumberland Ballinger, well, it is open to speculation.”

Meredith’s small jaw dropped. “You do not believe your brother is in heaven?”

“Of course he is. I am merely teasing. Never mind me, Meredith. I have a very inappropriate sense of humor. Just ask anyone. Come along, now, I am quite famished and I see a perfect spot for lunch.”

Meredith eyed the intended location, a grassy bank above a small stream, very warily. “Aunt Clarissa said I must be careful not to get my dress dirty. She says true ladies never get muddy.”

“Nonsense. I used to get muddy all the time when I was your age. Still do, on occasion. In any event, I’ll wager you have several other dresses just like that in your wardrobe, do you not?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then if something dreadful happens to this one, we shall simply toss it out or give it to the poor and you may wear one of your other dresses. What is the point of having any number of dresses, if one does not use them?”

“I had not thought of it quite that way.” Meredith took a renewed interest in the luncheon spot. “Perhaps you are right.”

Augusta grinned and shook out the cloth that had been
packed in the basket. “That reminds me. I believe we shall send for a seamstress from the village tomorrow. You need some new dresses.”

“I do?”

“Definitely.”

“Aunt Clarissa said the ones I have now will do for another six months or a year at least.”

“Impossible. You will outgrow them long before that. In fact, I daresay you will outgrow them by the end of the week.”

“A week?” Meredith stared at her. Then she smiled hesitantly. “Oh, I see. You are joking again, are you not?”

“No, I am quite serious.”

“Oh. Tell me more about your brother. I have sometimes thought I might like to have a brother.”

“Have you, indeed? Well, brothers are a very interesting lot.” Augusta began to talk easily of all the good times she had known with Richard as she and Meredith set out the appetizing repast of cold meat pies, sausages, fruit, and biscuits.

Augusta and Meredith had just seated themselves when a long shadow fell over the meal. A pair of glossy black boots came to a halt at the edge of the white cloth.

“Is there enough for three, do you think?” Harry asked.

“
Papa
.” Meredith leaped to her feet, looking first surprised and then anxious. “Augusta said someone must show her around the grounds today and she said you were too busy to do so. She asked me to do it.”

“An excellent notion.” Harry smiled at his daughter. “No one knows this estate better than you do.”

Meredith smiled back, clearly relieved. “Do you want a meat pie, Papa? Cook made several. And there are lots and lots of biscuits and sausages. Here, have some.”

Augusta scowled ferociously. “Do not go giving away all our food, Meredith. You and I have first choice here. Your father is an uninvited guest and he only gets the leftovers.”

“You are a hard-hearted woman, madam wife,” Harry drawled.

Meredith’s fingers froze around a pie. She looked first at Augusta with stunned eyes and then turned to her father. “There is plenty for you, Papa. Truly there is. You can have mine.”

“Not at all,” Harry said easily. “I shall just take Augusta’s portion. I would much rather eat her share.”

“But Papa—”

“Enough,” Augusta said, laughing at the child’s earnest expression. “Your father is teasing both of us and I am teasing him. Do not concern yourself, Meredith. There is plenty of food for everyone.”

“Oh.” With an uncertain glance at her father, Meredith settled back down on the cloth. She arranged the skirts of her dress very carefully so that they did not fall onto the grass. “I am glad you joined us, Papa. This is fun, is it not? I do not think I have ever been on a picnic. Augusta says she and her brother used to go on picnics all the time.”

“Is that so?” Harry lounged back on one elbow and bit into a meat pie as he slanted Augusta a veiled glance.

Augusta realized with a small sense of shock that Harry was dressed in riding clothes and his throat was bare. He was not wearing his usual impeccably tied cravat. She had rarely seen him this casually garbed, except in the privacy of their bedchambers, of course. She blushed at that thought and bit into a pie.