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“I applaud you, Dr. Rearden,” said the baron, to his niece’s further dismay. “It seems not too much can be done for those who have risked so much.” He beamed down the table at his two new acquaintances. “In fact, I would like to do my part as well.”

“Y-Your part, Uncle?” squeaked Mrs. Dere.

“You must not be expected to teach the Iffley boys gratis, Mr. Langworthy,” he continued.

“Nothing of the kind, sir,” Langworthy replied. “I do it in return for my keep at the rectory.”

“Pshaw,” protested the curate. “How dare you make mincemeat of my boasts of hospitality and selflessness? You do not teach in order to repay expenses, as if the rectory were some—some Bush Inn—no—was it—as if it were some Shrub Inn—!”

“ Tree Inn!” Peter shrieked with laughter. “Not Bush or Shrub. It’s the Tree Inn, sir.”

The parson rapped the table and winked at the child, “That’s right! The rectory is no Tree Inn. Langworthy, if you did not stir a finger you would still be welcome under my roof.”

Mrs. and Miss Barstow were hiding smiles at this point, but the baron was not deterred from his intent. “Mr. Langworthy, surely you will need certain appurtenances to give your lessons? Books, instruments, wide open spaces to see the horizon?”

“Well, as we are on land, sir, and plan but an hour or two every Saturday, I thought we might merely learn terms and make imaginary calculations on a slate. Nothing so grand as you picture.”

“Very sensible!” struck in Mrs. Dere, trying to regain control of the conversation and fearing whatever purchases the baron might be contemplating. “No need to be carried to extremes for what might only be a fortnight’s exercise.”

“Then I may participate, Mama?” asked Peter with another bounce.

She gave what might, in another woman, be called an apprehensive groan.

“Oh, I suppose so, if the Tommies and Gordon will—don’t shout, Peter.

An hour or two at the rectory once per week, if it must be.

Though if we were going to add to your schoolwork, in my opinion other lessons would be more pertinent for you than navigation. Dancing, say, or a modern language.”

Her son was too pleased with her concession even to make a face at these latter suggestions, but the baron straightened, setting down his fork. “I say, Alice, you make a point.”

“Of course I do,” she sniffed. “I know Keele’s school is a favorite project of yours, but you must admit, for all Mr. Keele’s and Mr. Weatherill’s academic excellence, they neglect other parts of a gentleman’s education.”

“Ah,” mourned Rearden, “when you find fault with the school there, you show me my own shortcomings as well, madam. For I could no more teach the Tommies to dance or speak French than I could embroider a screen.”

“Do you remember how Mrs. Terry once wanted to have a children’s ball at Perryfield, Mrs. Dere?” interposed Miss Barstow. “It was precisely because Mr. Terry could not teach the Tommies or poor George Denver to dance. You are not the only one to see the lack.”

“I remember,” answered Mrs. Dere, softening at this nod to her perspicacity. “But it never came off because that George Denver broke his ankle or some such.”

“Let it come off now,” said the baron, and Langworthy wondered if he seized upon the idea so eagerly because he too wanted to soften Mrs. Dere. “Why should the boys not learn a little dancing, along with their navigation?”

“Dancing?” she echoed, as if she had not just put the thought in everyone’s head. “However would that come about, and who would teach them?”

“If you are proposing me as dance master, sir, I must decline,” grinned Langworthy. “Though I will take my part in the set if another body is needed.”

“It had better be you, then, Alice,” Lord Dere said slyly. “And perhaps we might prevail upon all our dear Barstows to swell our number?”

“But, Uncle—”

“Do say yes, Mrs. Dere,” urged Miss Barstow.

“What fun it would be to dance again, and you were such a pleasure to watch last November at the Greenwood Ball. Moreover, if it were a children’s ball we practiced for, my youngest sister Maria would be beside herself with gratitude, for she has only ever danced with us at home, you know.

” Seeing Mrs. Dere weaken, she hurried on.

“I would be happy to provide accompaniment on the instrument. And only imagine Mrs. Terry’s pleasure when she and the rector return to find what we have done in their absence! ”

“Pardon me, Miss Barstow,” Rearden spoke up again. “I don’t mean to be a wet blanket on this delightful idea, but I’m afraid the rectory drawing room would never allow for four couples to stand up and move with any ease, even if they were all children and the furniture taken out.”

And here the baron’s straight, slim figure swelled with anticipation, to see the pieces of his plan fit together so neatly.

“You’re right, Dr. Rearden. Which is why both the navigation lessons and the dance lessons had better be at Perryfield.

We have the old schoolroom for the mathematics—I will gladly order whatever you think necessary, Mr. Langworthy—and our drawing room would allow for more than ten couples at once. ”

Mrs. Dere drew a sharp breath, but when Miss Barstow and the curate burst into happy applause, and all heads turned back to her for her approval, she could see no gracious escape from the trap she had unwittingly laid for herself. Therefore, with a little shrug, she murmured, “As you wish, sir.”

Her concession led to an outburst of delight and eager conversation, and Miss Barstow further smoothed her feathers with a combination of praise and appeals to her for how matters should be managed, so that by the time the ladies rose to withdraw Mrs. Dere was quite content to let the baron indulge his new hobby horse.

Only one guest had said not a word in either approbation or protest, but when the drawing room door closed behind them, Sarah steeled herself to follow Mrs. Dere.

“May I help you prepare the tea, madam?”

This was usually Frances’ task, but Mrs. Dere politely made room for her on the sofa. “Thank you, Mrs. Sebastian. Frances, then perhaps I could prevail on you to play for us?”

Welcoming the cover of music, Sarah waited for her sister-in-law to select a sheet and play opening scales and arpeggios to limber her fingers before speaking again.

“Thank you again, Mrs. Dere, for agreeing to both the navigation lessons and the dance lessons. I know they will give my family much enjoyment. Only Gordy may care about the mathematics, but all the Barstows dearly love to dance.”

“And does that include you, Mrs. Sebastian?”

“It does,” Sarah admitted, “but I do not mind sitting out.”

Mrs. Dere favored her with astonishment. “Sit out? Whyever would you sit out the dance lessons, Mrs. Sebastian?”

“I—er—I have my little son. He is too young to take part, and I will stay behind at Iffley Cottage to watch him.”

“What nonsense!” Mrs. Dere dismissed this.

“Of course you must come. Reed can watch the boy for a few hours once a week, or you may bring him and leave him to one of our maids if he does not want to watch the dancers. No—no argument, Mrs. Sebastian. By my count there are the four boys and possibly Mr. Langworthy and my uncle and even Dr. Rearden—seven gentlemen! We will need every partner we can find for them, especially if Frances or I must play. Absolutely you cannot be excused. I’m very sorry, but that is how it must be.

Besides which, this whole enterprise could be laid part and parcel at your door, for how would any of it have come about, if not for your late husband sending Mr. Langworthy to see to your welfare?

No, indeed. Let us hear no more of you sitting anything out. ”

“No, madam,” uttered Sarah, hiding her dismay.

She had to work even harder the next moment, when Mrs. Dere added, “Do permit me one word of caution, however, Mrs. Sebastian. You heard Mr. Langworthy before we went into dinner: he declared that he thought your son in need of a father. I do not presume to know what is in the man’s mind, but if he, a penniless officer with uncertain prospects, thinks to trade upon your higher connections and pay his addresses to you, I cannot approve of it.

What would you live on? Therefore, a word to the wise.

The baron is a generous man—generous to a fault—and he already seems to like Mr. Langworthy, but to accept a man who has nothing and no better hopes than to marry into dependence and parasitism—”

“Mrs. Dere,” choked Sarah, “I beg you. Please—say no more. I understand you, and there is no danger of such a—situation—coming to pass, even if it ever entered Mr. Langworthy’s mind. Please—be at ease—”

“Mm.”

Her hostess regarded her steadily but found nothing to doubt in Sarah’s anguished face.

“Very well, then,” she conceded. “I will forbear, since it pains you. Ah, here comes Wood with the tea things.”

Sarah could have slumped then with relief, but for one last little word which Mrs. Dere said as much to herself as to her companion: “Dr. Rearden, though. That’s another matter.”