Page 9 of Lady Graceless (A Series of Senseless Complications #2)

“H e’s come!” Patience said, from her post at the window.

“Who has come?” Grace asked, knowing very well who. She had refused to go out anywhere during the day in case he would come. They’d all endlessly speculated on whether he would come and when he would come.

Valor patted her hand. “I think it must be Lord Dashlend, Grace. Remember? We’ve talked and talked about him coming.”

“He’s brought an older lady,” Patience said.

“His mother?” Grace said, her voice an octave higher than it usually was.

“I think it must be a grandmother.”

A grandmother! Her own grandmother that yet lived, her mother’s mother, resided in Devon and they never saw her as she and the duke did not get on. Lady Neville always sent each girl a Christmas gift and year after year it was something not very exciting, like embroidered handkerchiefs. The gift was always accompanied by a letter outlining their Christian duties.

If anyone in the room was half as nervous over the idea of meeting Lord Dashlend’s grandmother as Grace was, it must be Nelson. The dear little dog was very astute at understanding the feelings of the family and when the temperature rose, he raced to meet it. Just now, he was traveling in circles.

“Serenity, do calm poor Nelson,” Grace said, attempting to keep her voice steady.

Serenity swept Nelson into her arms and his little tail beat against her muslin in wild appreciation.

Thomas opened the drawing room doors. “Lord Dashlend and Lady Margaret Hawley,” he said gravely.

Valor nodded at Thomas to tell him it was very well done.

The rest of them rose and approached. Grace curtsied and said, “Lord Dashlend, Lady Margaret. Do come in.”

Grace would have liked to send Thomas for tea at once, but the footman had disappeared.

“Lady Grace, I have returned the clothes to your footman that I was so generously supplied in my hour of need.”

Said footman popped his head back in the door and mouthed, “Tea?”

Grace nodded. Valor clapped and said, “You remembered to ask about tea. Well done, Thomas.” Then she turned to Lord Dashlend. “Our Thomas is still practicing being a footman. He is getting very good!”

“Yes, indeed, I can see that,” Lord Dashlend said kindly. “Lady Grace, Lady Valor, Lady Patience, Lady Winsome, Lady Verity, may I acquaint you with Lady Margaret? She is a cousin recently relocated to my house.”

It was not his grandmother, it was some sort of cousin. Still, he had brought a family member and there must be something in that. As well, Grace thought he was rather marvelous to remember all of their names. “Lady Margaret,” she said, “we are very pleased to know you.”

Lady Margaret nodded. “Now, I wish to make one thing clear, as Lord Dashlend has made it sound as if I arrived at his house by way of invitation. That is not the case.”

Goodness, what was the case?

“Lady Margaret,” Lord Dashlend said, “I do not see the need to go into the details.”

Lady Margaret patted his hand. “I do, though. You see, Lady Grace, this wonderful gentleman came to attend me after I sent a note that I required him instantly. He is always very good about that. When he arrived, he noticed that my living situation had rather fallen to shambles, as half my staff had died.”

Lady Margaret held her hand up as if to stop any speculation before it began. Especially since Valor had buried her head in Mrs. Wendover’s raggedy bits upon mention of the staff dying.

“They were all very old, you see, as I am myself. Flu—not to be trifled with. Well, despite my protestations that I should not like to interfere with a bachelor’s lifestyle, he would insist I relocate.”

“That is very kind, Lord Dashlend,” Grace said.

“That’s him—kind as the day is long,” Lady Margaret said.

Thomas came in with the tea tray and set it in front of Grace. Goodness, it felt a bit fraught to play the hostess, all eyes on her hands and the cups.

“Lady Margaret,” she said, “how will you take your tea?”

“More milk than you would think and a dash of brandy,” the lady said.

“Brandy?” Grace said, working to keep the surprise from her voice. “Yes, of course. Thomas?”

As Thomas went to fetch the brandy decanter, Grace attempted to work out how much a dash was. She’d never heard of anybody putting it in their tea.

“It’s my old bones, you see,” Lady Margaret said by way of explanation. “The brandy soothes them.”

Valor inched her way across the sofa to Lady Margaret. “Are your bones very old?”

“Old as Methuselah, poppet.”

“Gracious,” Valor said. “Our vicar told us that Methuselah lived for almost a thousand years.”

Lady Margaret nodded. “Sometimes it just feels like it.”

“I told the vicar that Methuselah must have looked terrible after even a hundred years and I asked if he was afraid to look in mirrors and then the vicar scolded me for thinking about the wrong thing.”

“Hah! Take everything your usual vicar has to say with a hefty grain of salt. No sense of humor, those people.”

Thomas returned and Grace added the smallest bit of brandy to the lady’s tea and handed her the cup and saucer.

Valor put her hand in Lady Margaret’s free hand. “I know that must be right,” she said. “I told the vicar that sometimes stealing was necessary, you know because the commandments say you can never do it. He was so cross about it!”

“Let me hazard a guess—stealing biscuits?”

“Yes!”

As Valor and Lady Margaret chattered on together, Patience said, “Lord Dashlend, we thought you’d come on an earlier day, but now we know you were helping Lady Margaret.”

Serenity brushed away a tear. “It really is very touching.”

“I believe familial loyalty is very usual in cases such as this,” Verity said.

“Maybe not always, though,” Winsome said, challenging the idea.

“I was happy to do it,” Lord Dashlend said, taking his tea.

Grace was enormously pleased that she’d not spilled one drop of it.

“How do you get on in Town so far, Lady Grace?” Lord Dashlend asked. “Have you been to any entertainments yet?”

Grace was not certain whether or not she ought to mention Lord Doanellen’s dinner. Then she recalled that Lord Dashlend’s own cousin had been there, so there was every likelihood that he would hear of it.

“We have attended one dinner, though had I been more experienced at managing invitations, I daresay we would have sent our regrets.”

“Not a well put together table?” Lord Dashlend asked.

“Um, no, it was not exactly that. We attended the Earl of Doanellen’s dinner.”

Lord Dashlend frowned.

“There was a bird of paradise there,” Winsome said. “We’ve been told that’s not at all the thing, though I really do not see what is wrong with it. People keep canaries and parrots all the time.”

“It is my understanding that a bird of paradise is a noxious bird, though,” Verity said.

“The problem was,” Patience said, “the bird was in the dining room. That’s what I can get out of the whole thing.”

Lord Dashlend seemed to perceive that Grace’s younger sisters were rather unclear as to what, or who, a bird of paradise was. He said, “Lady Grace, I notice what I believe is a fine collection of books on that bookshelf on the far side of the room. I wonder if you would escort me there and give me your comments on them.”

“Yes, of course,” Grace said. She was rather nervous, as she expected she would be pressed for further information regarding the bird of paradise.

They strolled to the far end of the drawing room, leaving behind Lady Margaret and Valor having a confidential conversation about stealing biscuits. Serenity, Winsome, and Patience just stared at them as they made their way there.

Lord Dashlend picked a book from the shelf and pretended to examine it. “I presume Mrs. Featherby was the bird in question?”

Grace nodded. “We really did not know what we were walking into. I do not know anybody and my father often forgets who is who. He also is not one for hanging about his club listening to gossip, so he would have missed the lady’s identity. And then, there was nothing said on the invitation that… that… a certain type of lady would be there.”

“No, of course there would not be anything on the invitation. It is my understanding that Doanellen is doing everything in his power to establish Mrs. Featherby in society. He will get nowhere with it, though.”

Grace nodded. “Is it true that he’s left his wife in the countryside? My aunt said so, but then I thought there must be a good reason for it.”

“That is a rather sad case, if what I’ve heard about it is true. Lady Doanellen came with a pile of money and as far as I can tell, he married her for it. He played the devoted husband until he had an heir and now he’s cast her aside.”

“That is wicked.”

“Yes, it is. I do not know what Doanellen is about. He’s enraged every matron in Town and half of his gentlemen friends too. It is one thing to carry on with a mistress and another thing to expect one’s friends to acknowledge the lady.”

“It is a usual thing?” Grace asked. “To carry on with… such ladies?”

The idea was a little shocking. She was not entirely na?ve, she had heard of such things, but she’d not thought it a usual thing. Her father had certainly never done anything of the sort.

“No, no, not usual. Not among decent men, at any rate.”

Grace nodded, rather relieved to hear it. “Your cousin was there.”

“Montclave? Yes, I thought that was where he might have gone. He does not keep a house in Town.”

“But he is not welcome at your house?”

“He is not.”

Grace burned to know why not. Was there something to know about Lord Montclave? Or were they simply oil and water? But, she could not bring herself to ask such a direct and personal question.

“I did mention to him that we had met when you were shipwrecked on the beach. He was very interested in whether or not you swallowed seawater.”

“I bet he was.”

“I told him I did not know. He also opportuned me about coming to the dinner on Tuesday, but I said only my father could issue invitations. It was quite the fib, I will admit.”

“I am glad. My cousin and I do not get on.”

Grace could see that, though Lord Dashlend had not given out any clues as to why. She remembered Lord Montclave had said they lived on neighboring estates. Perhaps they both carried forward some old boyhood grudges?

Seeing that she would not discover anything firm, Grace turned the conversation to the other thing that had weighed on her mind.

“Lady Lavender was at the dinner too. I do not know if you know the lady, but she seemed very pleasant.”

“Lady Lavender?” Lord Dashlend asked. “What on earth was Wembly thinking?”

“Oh, you are acquainted with the lady?”

“Only recently, it is her first season out. She played the pianoforte at Lady Elspeth’s musical evening last night.”

“I suppose she was very good.”

“Yes, indeed she was. She seemed to have a very natural ear.”

“Yes, she seemed the sort of lady who is good at everything,” Grace said pensively.

Lord Dashlend laughed. “Yes, I suppose some ladies are. Accomplished, is what I believe they are called.”

Accomplished. That short time they’d had a governess, Miss Pynchon, she’d gone on and on about developing accomplishments. She and her sisters had laughed over it, but now she was beginning to think Miss Pynchon had been right all along.

Lady Lavender had accomplishments, one of which had been on display last evening. What accomplishments could Grace Nicolet claim? Certainly nothing to do with the pianoforte.

“What will you do to ensure you do not accept another invitation that might be better declined?” Lord Dashlend asked. “I would look them over if you like.”

“That is very kind, Lord Dashlend. My father has determined that my brother-in-law, Mr. Percy Stratton, will be given the task.”

“Stratton, yes, he’s sensible. He will be sure to steer you in the right direction.”

Grace thought that while she could not turn over her social calendar to Lord Dashlend, she should not lose the opportunity to inform him of what events she and her father were to attend in the near future. She listed them out as best as she could remember them. She was gratified that Lord Dashlend seemed to be paying close attention. She was not quite as gratified that he would not attend Lady Luthering’s ball on the morrow, as he was committed to dining with one of his father’s oldest friends. She was both nervous and looking forward to dancing with Lord Dashlend.

But then, perhaps it was best that she get some practice being at a ball before dancing with him.

“We ought to return to the others, lest Lady Margaret begins to think I step over a gentlemanly line.”

Grace nodded and they made their way back. Winsome and Verity were debating some point, while Patience toe tapped over it and interjected the occasional, “Nobody cares, nobody has ever cared, nobody will ever care.” Valor was telling Lady Margaret all about Mrs. Wendover.

Lady Margaret patted Valor’s hand. “It’s a very fine thing to have your own particular friend.”

“You could be my friend too,” Valor said.

“I’d be delighted. Should we correspond?”

“You mean write letters?” Valor said, looking deeply impressed over the idea. “I should like to get letters in the post.”

“Very good,” Lady Margaret said. “I’ll write the first one and then you write me back. Write whatever is on your mind, poppet.”

“Grace,” Valor said, “Lady Margaret is my new friend and we are going to write to each other. I’m to get letters.”

“That’s very kind, Lady Margaret,” Grace said. “I do hope though, that you know you are welcome to come to us in person at any time.”

“Careful, my dear,” Lady Margaret said, “I may well take you up on that.”

“As well, we hope you will attend us at dinner on Tuesday?”’ Grace asked. “Lord Dashlend kindly accepted my father’s invitation when we met by the seaside.”

“Delighted.”

Lord Dashlend had remained standing and Grace very well knew why. The time had elapsed for a call a quarter hour ago.

“Lady Margaret, we’d best take our leave,” Lord Dashlend said.

“As you wish,” Lady Margaret said, outstretching her hand. Lord Dashlend pulled her to her feet.

All five sisters, and Nelson too, followed them out to the pavement and waved them off. Grace thought it might have been obvious or forward or not exactly right to do so. Perhaps she ought to have stayed in the drawing room and pretended disinterest in the departure. But then, it seemed to be well received.

*

Lady Margaret had been settled into the carriage and Miles had climbed in after her. Lady Grace and her five sisters, along with the three-legged dog, waved them off.

“Lovely people,” Lady Margaret said.

“Yes, I believe so,” Miles said.

“I sized them up the minute I walked into the drawing room. Do you know how I did it?”

“You ascertained that they were well-dressed and courteous?” Miles ventured.

“No. Anybody can throw on decent clothes and manners. I knew they were good people because they have a three-legged dog who is obviously delighted with his circumstances.”

“Ah, the dog. They found him at an inn. He also seems to be blind in one eye.”

“Even better,” Lady Margaret said.

“Is it?”

“Of course it is. There are opportunities, from time to time, to glimpse a person’s character, or even a whole family’s character. Another family might have kicked such a dog out of their way and passed it by, never thinking of it again. Yet another family might have felt bad and paid for its upkeep. Another family might have gone so far as to relegate him to their stables in the countryside. This dog, though, is living the life of a lord in the family’s drawing room in Town.”

“I hadn’t thought… they were very sentimental about his case. They could not bear the idea that he was living on scraps. Scraps were mentioned more than once.”

“As I said, lovely people. Well! I will be most interested in attending this dinner. I would like to get a look at the duke. Even in my relative isolation I’ve heard he’s a bit of a corker.”

“Yes, the duke does lean toward the eccentric,” Miles said, thinking Lady Margaret was not so far behind on that quality.

“I’ll have to speak to… what is that girl’s name again?”

“What girl?”

“My new maid who used to burn the toast.”

“Ah, I believe it is Meg.”

“Yes, that’s it, Meg. I’ll have to speak to her about what sort of dress can be dug up and have her polish my jewelry. Gwen can direct her on how it’s done. I’ll want to look my best. Goodness, I have some smashing dresses stored away. Time to dig them out and don the armor for battle once more. Your dear mother is at home in the country caring for your father and his gout—somebody has got to keep them informed on your progress.”

“My progress? No, really I do not think that is at all necessary,” Miles said, alarmed that Lady Margaret was going to send letters home describing his activities.

She patted his hand and said, “You let me worry about what is necessary.”

For such a little bird of a lady, she was rather free with imposing her will.

For all that, Miles could not definitely say he was uninterested in making progress. He was astute enough to recognize in himself that his level of concern over Lady Grace being exposed to Mrs. Featherby was higher than it might have been. He’d not been nearly as concerned upon hearing that Lady Lavender had attended the dinner as well. They were very like—two ladies new to the town—and yet he felt he must extend his protection to Lady Grace, where Lady Lavender could fend for herself.