Rendezvous (25 page)

Augusta finished the letter and refolded it slowly. It was surprisingly good to hear from her cousin. Rather pleasant,
too, to be told that the prim and proper Claudia actually missed her.

“Augusta, Augusta, where are you?” Meredith flew down the long hall of the gallery waving a large sheet of paper in her hand. “I finished my watercolor. What do you think of it? Aunt Clarissa said I must get your opinion, as it was your suggestion that I take up painting.”

“Yes, of course. I am anxious to see it.” Augusta looked up at Clarissa, who had accompanied her charge at a more stately pace. “Thank you for allowing her to try her hand at watercolors.”

“His lordship informed me I was to be guided by your wishes in this matter, although he and I are agreed that watercolor painting is not a suitably serious pursuit for Meredith.”

“Yes, I know, but it can quite fun, Miss Fleming.”

“One is expected to apply oneself with diligence to one’s studies,” Clarissa pointed out. “Not have fun.”

Augusta smiled at Meredith, who was shifting her gaze anxiously between the two women. “I am sure Meredith worked very hard on this particular painting because it is quite beautiful, as anyone can see.”

“Do you really think so, Augusta?” Meredith hovered eagerly as Augusta examined the work.

Augusta held the child’s painting out in front of her and tilted her head to one side to study it. The painting consisted largely of a great deal of pale blue wash. Some interesting slashes of green and yellow were scattered about in an apparently random fashion and in the background was a huge blob of gold.

“Those are trees,” Meredith explained, pointing to the green and yellow slashes. “The brush wobbled a great deal and the paint tended to drip.”

“They are wonderful trees. And I especially like your sky.” Knowing the green and yellow bits were trees made it a safe guess that the wash of blue was sky. “And this is quite interesting,” she added, pointing to the blob of gold.

“That’s Graystone,” Meredith explained proudly.

“Your father?”

“No, no, Augusta, our
house
.”

Augusta chuckled. “I knew that. I was just teasing you. Well, you have done an amazing job on this, Meredith, and if you will allow me, I shall see that it is hung immediately.”

Meredith’s eyes grew very round. “You are going to hang it? Where?”

“Why, right here in the gallery would be a very suitable place, I believe.” Augusta glanced down the row of intimidating portraits. “Perhaps right here beneath the picture of your mother.”

Meredith was elated. “Do you think Papa will approve?”

“I am certain he will.”

Clarissa cleared her throat. “Lady Graystone, I am not at all certain this is a wise suggestion. This gallery is reserved for family portraits that were painted by renowned artists. It is not the sort of space in which one hangs schoolroom work.”

“On the contrary, I think some schoolroom work is just what this gallery needs. It is a rather somber place, is it not? We shall liven it up with Meredith’s picture.”

Meredith glowed. “Will it be in a frame, Augusta?”

“Most certainly. Every fine picture deserves a frame. I shall see about having someone make us a frame immediately.”

Clarissa harrumphed and looked sternly down at her young charge. “Enough of this entertainment. It is time you returned to your studies, young lady. Run along, now. I shall join you in a few minutes.”

“Yes, Aunt Clarissa.” Eyes still bright with pleasure, Meredith bobbed a curtsy and hurried out of the gallery.

Clarissa turned to Augusta with a severe expression. “Madam, I must talk to you about the nature of the activities you are introducing to Meredith. I realize his lordship is permitting you to take a role in the education of
his child, but I cannot help but feel you are pushing her into less than serious pursuits. His lordship has always been most adamant that he does not wish Meredith to grow up to be a silly, shallow female incapable of anything but idle conversation and socializing.”

“I understand, Miss Fleming.”

“Meredith has been accustomed to a strict course of study. She has done very well with it and I would not like to see that habit altered.”

“I take your point, Miss Fleming.” Augusta gave the woman a conciliatory smile. The lot of the penniless relative in a household was not a happy one. Clarissa had obviously done her best to create a niche for herself and Augusta sympathized with her. It was not easy to live in someone else’s home, as she herself knew all too well. “Meredith has flourished under your capable instruction and I do not seek to change that.”

“Thank you, madam.”

“I do, however, feel that the child needs a few nonserious activities. Even my Aunt Prudence felt it was important that young people develop the ability to enjoy a variety of improving pastimes. And my cousin Claudia is following in her mother’s footsteps. She is writing a book on the subject of useful knowledge for young ladies and she is devoting an entire chapter to the importance of sketching and watercolor painting.”

Clarissa blinked owlishly. “Your cousin is writing a book for the schoolroom?”

“Why, yes.” Augusta suddenly realized where she had seen that look in Clarissa’s eyes. It was in the gaze of quite a few members of Pompeia’s, especially the ones who spent long hours at the writing tables in the club. Claudia frequently had that expression in her angelic blue eyes. “Oh, I see, Miss Fleming. You had perhaps entertained some notion of writing a book for the edification of young people?”

Surprisingly flustered by the question, Clarissa turned
an unbecoming shade of red. “I had given the subject some thought. Not that anything could ever come of it, of course. I am well aware of my limitations.”

“Do not say that, Miss Fleming. We do not know our limitations until we test ourselves. Have you written anything on the subject?”

“A few notes,” Clarissa mumbled, clearly embarrassed by her own presumption. “I thought of showing them to Graystone, but I fear he would find them quite paltry. His own intellectual abilities are so superior.”

Augusta waved that aside. “I would not deny his intelligence, but I am not at all certain he would be a good judge of your efforts. Graystone is writing for a very small audience of academic types. You would be writing for children. Two entirely different groups.”

“Yes, there is that, I suppose.”

“I have a much better notion. When you have finished preparing a manuscript, bring it to me and I shall give it to my Uncle Thomas, who will send your work off to a publisher.”

Clarissa took a deep breath. “Show a manuscript to Sir Thomas Ballinger? The husband of Lady Prudence Ballinger? I could not possibly impose to that extent. He would think me far too forward.”

“Nonsense. It will be no imposition whatsoever. Uncle Thomas will be happy to do it. He used to attend to the matter of getting my Aunt Prudence’s works published, you see.”

“He did?”

“Oh, yes.” Augusta smiled confidently, thinking of Sir Thomas’s vague approach to the details of daily life. It would be no trick at all to persuade him to put Clarissa’s manuscript in the mail to a publisher with a recommendation to print it on the grounds that it followed in Lady Prudence Ballinger’s footsteps. Augusta decided she would write the letter of recommendation herself, to save Sir Thomas the trouble.

“That is most kind of you, madam.” Clarissa looked and sounded dazed. “I have long been a devoted admirer of Sir Thomas’s work. He has such a commendable grasp of history. Such a fine eye for the important detail and nuance. Such a scholarly style of writing. It is truly a pity he never had the inclination to write for the schoolroom. He could have done so much to mold young minds.”

Augusta grinned. “I’m not so sure about that. Personally, I’ve always found my uncle’s prose rather dry.”

“How can you say that?” Clarissa demanded passionately. “It is not at all dry. It is brilliant. And to think he might look at a manuscript of mine. It is overwhelming.”

“Yes, well, as I was about to say, I myself have always felt that the thing that was greatly lacking in books for the schoolroom was a work on famous women in history.”

Clarissa looked at her in astonishment. “Famous women, madam?”

“There have been some very brave and noble females in the past, Miss Fleming. Famous queens, for example. And tribes of fierce Amazons. Several rather interesting Greeks and Romans. Even some female monsters. I find the notion of female monsters quite fascinating, don’t you, Miss Fleming?”

“I have not given much consideration to the matter of female monsters,” Clarissa admitted, looking thoughtful now.

“Only consider,” Augusta said, warming to her topic, “how many famous heroes of antiquity have been absolutely terrified of female monsters like Medusa and the Sirens and such. It certainly leads one to believe women might have had a great deal of power in those days, does it not?”

“It is a most interesting notion,” Clarissa said slowly.

“Imagine, Miss Fleming. Fully half of the world’s history has never been written because it concerns females.”

“Good Lord, what a stimulating thought. A whole new field to explore. Do you think Sir Thomas would find it an appropriate area of study?”

“My uncle is a very open-minded man when it comes to intellectual matters. I think he would find a new avenue of historical inquiry highly stimulating. And just think, Clarissa, you could be the one to point it out to him.”

“I am humbled by the very notion,” Clarissa breathed.

“It would take a great deal of research to even touch the surface of such a vast subject, of course,” Augusta mused. “Fortunately, my husband’s enormous library is available. Are you interested in undertaking such a project?”

“Extremely interested, madam. I have occasionally wondered why we do not know more about our female ancestors.”

“I will strike a bargain with you, then,” Augusta concluded. “I shall give Meredith instruction in watercolor painting and the reading of novels on Monday and Wednesday afternoons. You may use the time to pursue your research. Does that sound reasonable?”

“Most reasonable, madam. Most reasonable. Extremely gracious of you, if I may say so. And to have Sir Thomas’s opinion and assistance, why, it is almost too much.” Clarissa made an obvious effort to collect herself. “If you will excuse me, I must go back to my duties.”

The dull brown skirts of Clarissa’s gown swung around her with a new snap and fresh vivacity as she hurried out of the gallery.

Augusta watched her leave and then she smiled thoughtfully to herself. Clarissa was just the sort of female her uncle needed. A marriage between Clarissa and Sir Thomas would truly be a marriage of like-minded individuals. Clarissa would understand and share his intellectual passions and Sir Thomas would find Clarissa every bit as admirable as Lady Prudence had been. Definitely something to think about, Augusta decided.

She put the notion aside for the moment and reread Claudia’s letter. It occurred to her, as she refolded it a second time, that as the new Countess of Graystone, it was time to start planning her debut as a hostess.

Planning parties was one of the things at which the women of the Northumberland Ballinger clan had always excelled. No doubt because of their naturally frivolous turn of mind, Augusta decided. As the last of the line, she would strive to uphold the family tradition.

She would give a house party here in the country and it would be the most spectacular event in Graystone’s social history.

With any luck it would take her mind off the conversation about her brother that she had had with Harry the day of the picnic. The memory of that unpleasant discussion still rankled.

She could not and would not ever bring herself to believe that Richard had been selling secrets to the French. It was unthinkable. No Northumberland Ballinger would sink to such depths.

And most especially not her daring, dashing, honorable Richard.

It was far more difficult to believe Graystone had worked as an intelligence agent for the Crown than to believe her brother had done so, Augusta thought resentfully. Somehow Harry just did not strike one as a spy.

Of course, there was that ability of his to pick locks and he did have the most annoying habit of showing up when one least expected him.

Nevertheless,
Harry? A master spy?

The thing about spying was that it was not considered a strictly proper career for a true gentleman. Most people held the notion that there was something rather unseemly and distasteful about the business. And Harry was such a stickler for the proprieties.

Augusta paused abruptly as the recollection of how very improper the earl could be in the privacy of their bedchamber flashed into her thoughts.

Harry was a very complex man. And she had known since the first time she had looked into his cool gray eyes that there were vast areas in him that lay in shadow.

Perhaps, just perhaps, Harry could have been an agent
. The thought made Augusta strangely uneasy. She did not like to contemplate the notion of Harry taking grave risks. She pushed the possibility aside and began drawing up a list of people to invite to her house party.

After a few minutes more work on her plans she rushed off to find her husband. She discovered him in his library, pouring over a map of Caesar’s campaigns.

“Yes, my dear?” he asked without glancing up from his work.

“I am thinking of giving a party here at Graystone, Harry. I wanted to ask your permission to go ahead with my plans.”

He dragged his gaze reluctantly away from Egypt. “A party? A houseful of people? Here at Graystone?”

“We shall only invite close friends, Harry. My uncle and my cousin, for example. Perhaps some friends from Pompeia’s. Mr. Sheldrake, of course. And anyone else you like. It is a pity Sally will be unable to travel. I would love to have her here.”

“I don’t know about this, Augusta. I have never bothered much with entertaining.”

Augusta smiled. “Nor will you need to start bothering about it, sir. I shall take care of everything. My mother taught me a great deal about this sort of thing. A house party will provide a perfect opportunity to entertain our neighbors, too. It is high time we did so.”