Page 24 of Runaway Countess (Those Wild Whitbys #2)
Chapter Twenty-Four
U p until the moment she came face to face with her aunt and uncle, Jenny was certain that she was prepared to deal with whatever came next. It did not matter how Uncle Fitzherbert raged, how Aunt Fanny cursed and berated her, whether they cried or scolded or threatened revenge. Jenny was a changed woman. A mere seventeen days would release her from their influence forever. In her heart, she was already free.
Unfortunately, even her most frantic imaginings had failed to predict what would actually happen when Aunt Fanny and Uncle Fitz saw her on the patio outside the best drawing room at Whitby Manor.
“What beautiful geraniums!” Aunt Fanny shrieked, leaping to her feet. “I must go and examine them at once!”
She launched herself across the patio like a misfiring rocket, nearly stumbling over her starched skirts in her effort to reach Jenny before Jenny reached Lord Beeston. Then she opened out her parasol directly into Jenny’s face. “You there! Maidservant! Hold this and follow me!”
Behind her, Uncle Fitz was hurrying to pull closed the patio doors so that Lord Beeston would not be able to catch sight of Jenny.
Mr Plum stood stock-still, his mouth hanging slack. “Mrs Smythe,” he began. “Is this lady not your niece, Miss Cartwright?”
Aunt Fanny pinioned him with the type of glare that came directly from her upturned nostrils. “What an impertinent suggestion! My niece is currently in Plymouth, lying in her sick bed, recovering from a bout of fever! This is merely a maidservant, whom I have never seen before.”
A raucous shout and an outburst of applause came up from the garden party.
“The young lady’s won another fencing match,” said Mr Gage happily. “This fellow don’t seem to mind much, though!” Jenny could not see well enough to ascertain the truth of this. Aunt Fanny’s enormous lace parasol was coming at her with some force, pushing her back down the patio steps.
Mr Plum was staring at Jenny in confusion. “But if you are not Miss Cartwright…”
“If you dare to mention the name Miss Cartwright again, I shall ensure you severely regret it!” hissed Aunt Fanny, whirling about so that the point of the parasol thudded into Mr Plum’s chest. She opened and shut it once or twice with a menacing growl that suggested she’d as soon be forcing it open inside Mr Plum’s innards.
He fled.
“Now then,” said Aunt Fanny, swinging the open parasol around her shoulder so that it blocked Jenny’s view of the patio entirely. “Let’s see about these geraniums , shall we?”
Jenny took another step back and ducked out of reach of her aunt’s grasping hand. “No, thank you, ma’am. As a humble maid, I’m afraid I have many other duties –”
“Now they’re kissing !” burbled Mr Gage. “We don’t get parties like this in Shepton Mallet, Miss Cartwright, I’ll tell you that for free!”
Aunt Fanny turned her withering glare on Mr Gage. “Who on earth are you?” she demanded.
“Aunt Fanny,” said Jenny, with the sunniest smile she could manage, “I’m delighted to introduce you to Mr Cadwallader Gage, my brother by marriage. The greengrocer,” she added helpfully. “Mr Gage, this is my aunt, Mrs Fitzherbert Smythe.”
“Mrs Smythe, as I live and breathe!” Mr Gage beamed, sweeping off his hat to make her a deep bow. “At last we meet! Helen will be thrilled. Let me give you all her news –”
Aunt Fanny looked rather as though she had just made the acquaintance of a garden worm. “Later,” she said. “At present I must have a private conversation with my niece.”
A tray of champagne appeared between them, proffered by a footman.
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Mr Gage, helping himself to a glass.
Aunt Fanny was glaring at the footman.
“For the toast,” he explained, patiently waiting for her to take a glass from the tray. “To Miss Cassandra’s engagement.”
“Her engagement?” Jenny repeated.
“Yes’m. To Lord Kendrick. Seems she won him in a fencing match.”
“Huzzah!” cried Mr Gage. He raised his glass to the sky, and sent off half the champagne in one swallow, staggering backwards as he did and seizing hold of Jenny’s shoulder for balance. Aunt Fanny brandished her parasol at the footman, who made a tactical retreat.
“Mr Gage,” Jenny began, taking the champagne coupe from his hand, “let me find you somewhere quiet to sit down –”
“ Not the drawing room !” Aunt Fanny hissed. “Come away from the house, you stupid girl, before Lord Beeston sees you!” She flexed her fingers to check that her glove was properly in place and then took hold of Mr Gage by the coat collar, rather like a cat lifting up a kitten by the scruff of the neck, and began to march him down the patio steps. She turned a look of pure disgust from him to Jenny. “And to think, you turned your nose up at an earl . I suppose you’d rather make the mistake Helen made, would you?”
Jenny made no move to follow her. She let Mr Gage’s hand slip from her shoulder. The party guests were beginning to swarm towards the house, streaming up the steps around them, chattering amongst themselves with far too much excitement to notice the inebriated greengrocer, the girl in a brown workday dress, or the furious woman with the steel-grey hair scraped back too tightly from her head and the fencer’s grip on the lacy parasol.
From this angle, Aunt Fanny looked almost pathetic. A grasping, greedy, insecure woman, who only valued what she could use for her own advancement.
“Yes,” said Jenny. “Yes, a thousand times over, I would rather marry for love.”
Aunt Fanny made an impatient tsk sound. “Then you are very lucky that it is not your decision to make. Come to the carriage at once. I am taking you back to our rooms at the inn, where you can explain yourself and get down on your knees to thank your uncle for salvaging the sorry mess you’ve made of things.”
Jenny paused a moment, to make quite sure of the new sensation within her when Aunt Fanny gave orders in that scathing tone.
She still felt blissfully cool, as though a loving hand had laid a compress on all the inner parts of her that were hot and hurting.
A memory struck her. Something from distant childhood, and no more than a few scattered impressions, but potent all the same. She had been riven with fever, her throat aching, and a pair of soft arms that she wished she remembered better had gathered her up and spooned soothing strawberry water ice into her mouth.
This moment felt just like that one. Only now, the strength and courage and coolness came from within her . Her mother had given her that gift, and Aunt Fanny would never take it away.
“What if I say no?” she asked, genuinely curious.
Aunt Fanny stared at her in astonishment. Her lips pinched together, drawing her whole expression into a tightly wound knot. “You must think yourself very clever, lasting so long out in the world without our protection. Your luck will run out, Jenny. There are cruelties and dangers around you which your silly little head cannot even imagine.”
“Are there? My imagination is quite vivid.”
The knot twisted tighter. “Then picture, if you will, a world in which you never see Elspeth again.”
Jenny had never been any good at hiding her emotions. Even the whirlwind make-believe of the past week had not trained her well enough in deception to hide her flinch.
Elspeth . Her poor cousin, so young, and so easily hurt. She could not abandon her.
Perhaps, though, she might be able to find a way to help Elspeth escape, too. Aunt Fanny was right about one thing – she could do nothing to help her cousin if they were forbidden from seeing each other.
Two and a half weeks. Then, no matter what her uncle had to say about it, the banns would be read. She would marry Sebastian. She would be free.
The look of disgust Jenny gave her aunt was not feigned. The defeat in her voice, however, was entirely false. Perhaps she had learned a thing or two about deception, after all. “Very well. I will come. For Elspeth’s sake. I’ll come without a fuss.”
Aunt Fanny made a little hmph of triumph and seized hold of Jenny’s arm, the nails digging into her skin.
To Jenny’s amazement, a warm, meaty hand settled on her other arm, unsteady but gentle.
Mr Gage gave her a sheepish smile. “Helen would never forgive me if I didn’t see you safely there.” He blinked once or twice, his eyes bleary and unfocused. “Besides, seems to me it might be an idea to find a friendly place to lay my head for the night.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” snapped Aunt Fanny.
“He is family,” said Jenny, adding in a stage whisper, “and he has an extremely loud voice.”
“Enough!” Aunt Fanny’s parasol swung around, blocking the party from view as they made their way haphazardly around the house. Fanny pulled Jenny, Jenny guided Mr Gage, and Mr Gage bounced merrily from one side of the path to the other, ambling along as though the hissed reprimands of his aunt-by-marriage were no more than the buzzing of bees among the geraniums.