Page 25 of Ambition (The Chaplain’s Legacy #6)

O livia woke full of excitement on the day of the visit to Grayling Hall.

The breakfast parlour was busy, the ladies who normally whiled away the morning hours in bed being abroad early for once.

Lady Esther was deep in conversation with Miss Bucknell when Olivia arrived, but after a while she moved around the table to an empty chair beside Olivia.

“Excellent news!” she said in an undertone. “Lord Grayling has been making enquiries about you.”

“About me?” Olivia said, startled. “What sort of enquiries?”

“Dowry,” Lady Esther said meaningfully. “Now we have three strings to your bow.”

Olivia could not see this as good news at all. Having Osborn as a potential suitor was bad enough, but at least he was amusing. Lord Grayling was nothing but an oily flirt. He looked well enough, that much she had to admit, but she could not trust a man who flattered her so outrageously.

The Franklyns’ commodious carriage conveyed Olivia, Effie, Lady Esther and Mr Franklyn the short distance to Grayling Hall.

Lord Rennington and many of the gentlemen preferred to ride, but one carriage after another fell in behind them on the road, making a notable procession for a grey November day.

“We shall have rain later, I dare say,” Mr Franklyn said, peering through the window at the skies.

Olivia cared nothing for rain, for there would be enough pleasure to be found inside the house, she sincerely hoped.

Surely this would be the ideal opportunity to further her acquaintance with the marquess?

A whole day under the same roof, with nothing to distract him — there was bound to be time for quiet conversation, and if he was at all susceptible…

but Effie said he was not, and had no intention of marrying, so perhaps she was wasting her time. How very difficult it all was.

Approaching Grayling Hall from the road brought the full glory of the house into view.

Having previously only caught glimpses of the rear facade, Olivia had not imagined quite such an imposing entrance.

A magnificent archway, towering over their carriage, allowed admittance to the walled courtyard, and there at the far side was the house, three wings of differing sizes arranged around an inner courtyard.

The exterior was of patterned red brick, with rows of thin chimneys rising loftily above the roof, and a multitude of projections and overhangs and intriguing irregularity. Here was a house worth exploring!

Lord Grayling and his sister emerged with wide smiles to hand the ladies down from the carriage and usher them into the great hall, light and airy with its arched roof and tall latticed windows.

Two massive fireplaces provided some heat, and a side table bore a steaming bowl of punch to fortify the travellers after the rigours of a journey of no more than half an hour.

There were dishes of sweetmeats, too, which were far more to Olivia’s taste, so she nibbled happily as she wandered about, ostensibly admiring the panelling and stone hearths, but in reality looking around for her quarry…

wrong word again. He was not prey, merely an aspiration, she reminded herself.

Annoyingly, Osborn appeared first and headed straight towards her. But he was alone, which was unexpected.

“Lady Kiltarlity is not with you?” Olivia said.

“Mama is exhausted by so much jollity and has retreated with my sisters to somewhere suitably dismal to recruit her spirits.”

Olivia giggled. “And where is suitably dismal?”

“Strathinver. I love Scotland dearly, Lady Olivia, but I could wish its weather were somewhat less drear. A little sunshine now and then would make all the difference.”

“I have never been to Strathinver, but my memories of Lochmaben are all of sunshine and gentle breezes,” Olivia said. “I cannot believe Strathinver is so different, for they are only a few miles apart.”

He smiled. “Indeed, you quite mistake the matter, for there is a cloud whose sole function is to sit directly above Strathinver and render it grey and chill. The cloud even has a name — it is called ‘Winter’ , and it is so assiduous in its devotion to duty that it stays in place for a full ten months of the year.”

She laughed, and said, “But winter is wonderful — proper winter, that is, with snow and ice and the landscape transformed into a magical place. Scotland has proper winters, does it not?”

“Oh yes! Indeed it does, as do many other parts of the Kingdom, but I am a creature of summer, myself. I like a warm sun, and beer cool from the cellar and fresh strawberries full of juice and flavour.”

Olivia gave a little moan of pleasure. “Ohhh, strawberries! Do not remind me! Winter is all root vegetables and wrinkly apples.”

“And bonbons,” he added, tapping Olivia’s hand, still full of the sticky sweetmeats.

It was strange how Osborn always made her laugh. There was something lighthearted about him which rendered her lighthearted too. No one could be downcast when he was in the room.

But soon the rest of the guests arrived, amongst them the marquess, and Olivia’s attention was no longer on Osborn.

Before she could make a move in Lord Embleton’s direction, however, Lord Grayling was before her, offering his arm for the tour of the house, and she could hardly refuse such a flattering invitation from her host. Osborn was scooped up by Effie, and it was Miss Grayling, an expression of pure triumph on her face, who accompanied Lord Embleton.

Olivia was not so caught up in her own affairs to miss that her father had a smiling Miss Bucknell on his arm.

And he was smiling, too, as he had not done since Mama had left.

This was truly going to happen, it seemed.

There would be a new Lady Rennington, and Olivia would have a stepmother.

She resolved to get to know Miss Bucknell better over the remainder of their stay, since not only would she be an important part of Corland life in future, but she would be responsible for bringing Olivia out next spring.

Instead of Mama, as she had always expected, it would be Miss Bucknell taking her to Almack’s and presenting her at Court.

No — of course, there would be no Almack’s or Court, not for an illegitimate daughter, but still, she would be moving in society, and Miss Bucknell would be her guide.

The thought was unsettling, as if the world had tilted out of alignment somehow, yet she supposed she would grow accustomed, in time.

From the great hall, Lord Grayling, with Olivia on his arm, led the procession from chamber to chamber, explaining the history of the house, which was a hodgepodge of different styles, erected at different times and in some cases, in different centuries.

Nothing, however, was less than two hundred years old.

Many of the rooms were shrouded in holland covers, although the shutters had been opened to allow the proportions and decoration to be admired.

After several parlours, no two the same size or shape, there was a beautiful chapel, and then another whole wing of comfortably appointed family rooms. Upstairs were bedrooms large and small, and a splendid long gallery with a wooden arched ceiling.

Here a billiard table had been set up, which several of the gentlemen fell upon with excited cries.

“Do you want to see the garderobes?” Lord Grayling whispered in Olivia’s ear.

“Oh! I have heard of such things, but never seen one.”

“This way.”

“Should we wait for the rest of the party?” she said.

“It is a very small space, with little room. I can show them to the others later, in small groups,” he said smoothly.

“Let me just ask Lady Esther if I may.”

“Dear me! Do you need permission for every little thing? What a very dutiful girl you must be.”

If there was one thing Olivia disliked above others, it was to be thought overly dutiful.

One must be mindful of one’s parents and one’s chaperon, naturally, but only the most pudding-hearted girl would be constantly asking if this or that were acceptable.

She was as good as out, after all, and a guest in Lord Grayling’s house, so what could possibly be wrong with stepping aside for a moment?

What could happen in a garderobe , anyway?

So she lifted her chin, told him forthrightly that she was not so dutiful as all that, and allowed him to lead her down a previously unsuspected stair.

The garderobes were indeed very small rooms, and exactly as Olivia had supposed they might be.

Not as comfortable, perhaps, as a close stool, but preferable to an outside privy.

Lord Grayling explained that there had been intended to be a moat to wash away the waste, but the distance from the nearest river had made the scheme impractical.

Now the waste went into a pit which was emptied periodically to be mixed with stable straw and spread on the vegetable beds.

“We have the best rhubarb in the county,” he said with a little smile.

Olivia’s trust was rewarded, for Lord Grayling made no attempt to step beyond the bounds of propriety. The voices of others in the party, still wandering about, reassured her that a chaperon could be summoned in moments if she were concerned.

From the garderobes , therefore, she allowed him to lead her to another room set in a corner position, with charming views over a rather neglected garden and a small lake.

“This was my mother’s sitting room,” he said, his tone more serious than she had heard from him before. “She loved to sit here in the afternoon, with the light streaming in, stitching her tapestry. This was the piece she was working on when she died.”