Double Masquerade Read online

  “Now, Catherine,” Sarah addressed her friend after Lady Manning had departed in search of Lady Ashe, “I can see by the light in your eyes you have some news to impart. Come into the drawing room and disclose all,” she commanded as she led the way into the drawing room.

  Catherine smiled at her friend’s discernment as the two women settled side-by-side on the mahogany-backed settee. “A marquess—Lord Edgecombe—is coming to Ellsworth Hall for the hunting season in August and I have decided to bring him to an offer,” Catherine confided.

  “That is most interesting,” Sarah mused, her grey eyes alight with interest. “How did you hear of it? From Miss Louisa Ellsworth? She will be in raptures with a marquess in residence at Ellsworth Hall.”

  “No, I have not seen Louisa, although I expect she will call upon us with the news soon enough. I read of it in the Gentleman’s Magazine.”

  “You will have a rival there, Catherine, if you are serious about attracting the interest of the marquess,” Sarah cautioned her friend. “You know how anxious Miss Louisa Ellsworth is to marry before her elder sister. After her years of failing to attach Lord Woodforde’s interest following the death of Lady Woodforde, it would be balm to her wounded vanity to attach another marquess.”

  “I am aware Miss Louisa Ellsworth will have the same purpose as I,” Catherine agreed. “That is why I need your assistance, for I am determined to be the one to bring him to an offer.”

  “I understand your desire to be properly situated in life with your own establishment, Catherine,” Sarah commented, “and am only surprised it has taken you this long to wish it. But it may not be a simple task to attach the interest of Lord Edgecombe. You are my dearest friend and to me your beauty and accomplishments exceed those of all other women; but Miss Louisa has only three-and-twenty years to your nine-and-twenty, and she will have the advantage of the marquess residing in her home.”

  “You forget to add that after my mother’s death my education was sadly neglected and that although I am able to play upon the harp, assist my father in reckoning the estate accounts, and keep the gardens of Rosemont in order, I am deficient in other accomplishments that might be expected to attract a gentleman’s notice, such as drawing and Italian,” Catherine added without rancour. “That is why I am relying upon you to help me plan my campaign to fix Lord Edgecombe’s attention. I am going to the draper’s and to Mrs. Spencer’s dressmaking establishment this very morning to order new gowns—you must come with me. I may not know all I should do to fix a gentleman’s interest, but I do know I must dress fashionably. How else might I attach a gentleman’s interest, Sarah? I have little experience,” she added ruefully.

  “You think I have such experience?” her friend teased. “Shall I be offended?”

  “You had enough at least to take you to the altar,” Catherine pointed out.

  “It is easy enough to attract a gentleman’s notice,” Sarah informed her friend. “You must admire him, seek to share his interests, and amuse him.”

  “How simple you make it sound,” Catherine laughed, “and how childlike you make out men’s characters to be! But it will be difficult for me to discover Lord Edgecombe’s interests. I have no knowledge of him other than that he is a sportsman, and what gentleman is not? Even there, I do not know if he prefers shooting birds, fishing, deer hunting, or riding to the hounds. In truth, Lord Woodforde and Lady Manning pointed out to me that I know nothing of Lord Edgecombe other than what was printed in the Gentleman’s Magazine.”

  Sarah eyed her friend. “Does Lord Woodforde approve your plans?”

  “I could not say he approves them, but he did not seem to disapprove them either.”

  “Catherine,” Sarah said in a serious tone, taking her friends hand in her own, “I know you believe Lord Woodforde’s many offers to you have been jests, but it has occurred to me sometimes when I observe him watching you that he some real attachment to your person. Will you not reconsider accepting his offer? I may tell you from my own experience, there is comfort in marrying one who share’s one’s background and of whom one knows enough to be sure of their character.”

  “Lord Woodforde has always had a close attachment to our family, and his lady wife took much kind notice of me after my mother’s death. It is true we share much history. But his affection for me is that of a brother, no more,” Catherine assured her friend. “It is for that reason he dares to tease me so.”

  “I grant that you would be in the best position to judge,” Sarah acknowledged, sighing, “but I dislike giving up my hopes of such a match.”

  “Sarah, I understand your wish for me to settle comfortably, but I may do so with a person outside this vicinity as well as here. You must promise to aid me in learning as much as we can of the marquess,” Catherine pressed. “When word spreads in Moreton that he is to arrive at Ellsworth Hall this summer you must relate to me anything you learn of his character. Situated here near town you will no doubt hear more than I.”

  “Of course I shall assist you,” Sarah promised her friend. “There is bound to be much gossip as soon as Lord Edgecombe’s coming becomes general knowledge, and I shall take care to report all to you in detail.”

  “I knew I could depend upon you,” Catherine said to her friend, pressing her hands in affection. “Now I require your assistance in one other particular. I hope you will accompany me to the draper’s and dressmaker’s and help me select the materials and styles for new gowns.”

  “That, at least, you may do without knowing more particulars of the marquess’ character,” Sarah agreed. “I shall inform Mama where we are going and join you directly.”

  Two hours later, their leave taken of their friends and the landau full of parcels, Catherine and Lady Manning started back to Rosemont. The liveried coachman did his best to maneuver the vehicle carefully over the badly rutted road, but his passengers were still jostled unmercifully.

  “If I were younger I should much prefer to travel by horseback,” Lady Manning commented as she shifted on the squabs, trying to find a more comfortable position. “One has at least a measure of control over a horse, and is not at the mercy of a coachman. Not that the coachman is entirely at fault,” she added out of fairness. “I have tried to persuade my brother to order a new vehicle with steel springs so that one would not be bounced about so, but he uses the coach so little he sees no purpose in such an expenditure.”

  “We are nearing the wood, so it will not be much farther now,” Catherine placated her aunt. “And it is such a beautiful day I do not mind the jolts,” she added. The top of the landau had been folded back for the fine June weather, allowing them to view the summer-green countryside. The trees thickened as they neared the wood, casting mottled shadows over the road as they entered the densely wooded area that bordered the estates of Rosemont and Ellsworth Hall. Three sharp windings of a horn shattered the summer stillness—the huntsman’s signal to urge hounds on after their quarry.

  “Lord Ellsworth must be schooling new hounds,” Catherine commented. “No doubt he wishes to have well-trained hounds when the marquess arrives to hunt.”

  ‎”Yes, no doubt,” Lady Manning agreed, looking out the left side of the landau where Rosemont lands stretched to the west. “I do believe that is one of Ellsworth’s hounds right up there by the side of the road.”

  Catherine turned to peer up the road and immediately called for the coachman to halt, rising from her seat as the landau slowed.

  “Catherine!” Lady Manning exclaimed as her niece wrested the door of the landeau open before the vehicle had rolled to a stop. The older woman watched in dismay as Catherine jumped from the still-moving vehicle and fell to her knees at the side of the road. Alarmed, Lady Manning stood and leaned out from the carriage door, watching anxiously as her niece picked herself up and ran to the young hound worrying his prey.

  “Let go! Leave it!” Catherine ordered the hound, trying to pry the hound’s jaws open with one hand as she pulled on the hare’s limp body with
the other.

  “Catherine, you know better than to come between a dog and its quarry,” Lady Manning expostulated. “You will be injured.”

  Catherine paid no heed to her aunt as she continued to struggle with the dog over possession of the leveret. In desperation, Catherine pressed hard on the nostrils of the young hound, temporarily interfering with its breathing and causing it to relax its jaws. “I have it!” she called to her aunt as she finally succeeded in prising the hare’s limp body loose from the dog’s mouth.

  “Aunt, he is still alive,” Catherine said breathlessly as she ran up to the carriage door, the young hare cradled in her arms. “We must make haste to Rosemont.”

  Lady Manning took the leveret as her niece clambered back in the landau with the coachmen’s help and ordered him to make his best speed home. Catherine then retrieved the hare from her aunt, holding it in her lap as gently as she could while she inspected the injuries, unheeding of the blood and dirt on her gown.

  “Catherine, you know an injured wild creature such as this leveret is not likely to survive such grievous injuries,” her aunt said kindly as she viewed the hare’s torn and bleeding flesh.

  “I know, Aunt Manning, but I must try. After reading what William Cowper wrote about hares—about what delightful creatures they are—I could not leave him to die so horribly without making an attempt to save him.”

  Lady Manning nodded in understanding as the landau sped down the road. They arrived at Rosemont in short order, and Catherine waited impatiently for the servants to open the door and help her from the carriage while she held the hare. Once out of the vehicle, she hurried into the house while Lady Manning gave directions regarding the disposition of the parcels before following her niece inside.

  “James,” Catherine ordered the liveried footman who opened the door, “have towels, a basin of water, and a poultice brought to the common parlour with all possible speed.”

  The required items arrived within minutes, and Catherine laid the young hare carefully on one linen towel and wetted another with which to clean the wounds.

  “It is fortunate he is not conscious,” Catherine commented as she knelt on the carpet, working swiftly to clean and dress the hare’s injuries. “I doubt he would allow me to tend his wounds if he were. Fortunately most of his wounds are about the shoulders. I see none on his face,” Catherine said as she inspected the hare, struck by his helplessness. “How defenseless he looks, Aunt Manning!”

  “You will require a place for him to recover,” Lady Manning commented practically as her niece tended the hare’s wounds. “I shall ask for a wooden crate or box to be found, cleaned, and brought inside.”

  By the time Catherine finished her ministrations a box had been found and delivered to the drawing room. Lady Manning lined the box with towels and Catherine laid the limp but still-breathing hare on the towels with care. Thinking the hare would need water, Catherine dipped her fingers in the bowl and allowed a few drops to fall on the hare’s mouth and was delighted to see it swallow. “I must have food for him as well, if he wakes,” she said, thinking aloud. “What did Mr. Cowper write that he fed his hares? Oats, I recall, and lettuces, and aromatic herbs.”

  “James, have a few oats sent up, and a selection of greens from the garden,” Lady Manning ordered the footman, who had been hovering in the background, watching the proceedings with interest as he awaited further commands.

  Having done all she could for the wounded animal, Catherine turned her attention to herself as she rose and looked down at her blood and dirt-streaked gown. “I had best repair my toilette, Aunt, before Papa comes down for dinner and sees my state of dress,” she said with a rueful smile. “I cleaned the hare’s wounds as best I could, and he rests in a place where he is free from pursuit. I can do no more for the nonce.”

  “Yes, make haste to dress for dinner, and do not be concerned for the hare,” Lady Manning ordered her niece. “I shall watch over him while you are gone and place the foods in the box with him so that he may eat if he wishes should he regain consciousness. I shall order a small basin of fresh water be put in as well.”

  “Thank you, Aunt.” Catherine paused at the parlour doorway, turning for a last look at the hare. Lady Manning settled on a carved mahogany armchair next to the box, watching, faithful to her charge. Catherine sighed as she left the room and walked down the hall to the stairs. She had done what she could and must leave the rest to Providence.

  Chapter Two

  Catherine stirred as the sun’s rays invaded her bedchamber between the drawn draperies, teasing her awake. She stretched, thinking there was something important she should remember—of course, the hare! Catherine jumped from her bed, pulled on a wrapper, and ran down the stairs through the hall to the parlour, heedless of her dishabille. Stopping before she reached the wooden box, Catherine tip-toed the rest of the distance, peering carefully into the box, her heart beating rapidly, fearing to find the poor leveret lying stiff. The tenseness melted from Catherine’s body as she saw the hare crouched in the bottom of the box, his sides fluttering with his breath, water missing from the basin, and half-eaten vegetables littering the box floor.

  “You are stronger than you appear, little hare,” she murmured softly. “You will survive yet.”

  Without going back upstairs to dress, Catherine hastened outside to search for fresh grass to tempt the hare’s appetite. As she gathered the greenest and widest grass blades she could find, the clop-clop of an approaching horse disturbed the morning silence. Surprised at such an early visitor, Catherine stood and looked down the road to see Lord Woodforde riding toward Rosemont. The marquess lifted a hand in greeting, and, after pulling up a few last grass blades, Catherine hastened forward to welcome her neighbor.

  “Good morning, Miss Trevor,” Lord Woodforde greeted Catherine with an appreciative look, reining in his horse and saluting her with a tip of his hat. “In what pastime have I disturbed you? Searching for fairy rings amongst the grass this fine morning?”

  “Good morning Lord Woodforde,” Catherine returned with cool dignity. She held up her hand to display the grass she had collected. “I am collecting food for my poor hare. I discovered one in a hound’s jaws yesterday while returning from town and rescued him. He was grievously wounded, but as he is still alive this morning, I am hoping fresh grass will tempt his appetite.”

  “A hare?” Woodforde said in tones of interest. “I should like to see the leveret. I did as you suggested last night and read Cowper’s piece about hares. They sound most fascinating creatures.” He swung easily down from his mount and walked beside Catherine, leading his horse.

  “What injuries had the hare sustained at the jaws of the hound?” he inquired.

  “Mostly flesh wounds about his upper shoulders and neck,” Catherine explained as she walked alongside the marquess to the house. “I do not think any of his organs were harmed, but I cannot know for certain. I am the more hopeful of his survival since finding him still breathing this morning. Had his wounds been mortal he would not have survived the night.”

  A liveried servant ran to take the reins of his horse from Woodforde’s hand as they neared the front entrance, and the marquess followed Catherine up the wide stone steps leading to the massive doors.

  “I put the hare in a box in the parlour,” Catherine explained as they entered the house. “Come and see,” she invited, leading Woodforde into the parlour. “I dressed his injuries while he was unconscious and we placed water and a few foodstuffs in the box. It appeared he had eaten of them overnight.” Catherine gestured toward the box. “He is in there.”

  Holding his hat behind his body lest its shape frighten the wild animal, Woodforde approached the box and peered inside. The hare did not move, but the slight in-and-out of his flanks betrayed his breathing.

  “I daresay it will take several days for the hare to become accustomed to you and feel safe enough to move in your presence,” Woodforde commented in a quiet voice. “See how he freezes at our a
ppearance. But you are correct, he looks as well as one could hope this morning. The wounds are still red, but they are not badly inflamed. Perhaps you shall be able to save his life.”

  Catherine knelt and slowly added the grass she had collected to the other foodstuffs in the box. The hare’s nose wiggled rapidly as he smelled the new addition, but otherwise he did not move. Catherine backed slowly away from the box and she and Woodforde retreated to chairs at the other end of the parlour.

  “Does this mean you have abandoned your plans to marry Edgecombe in order to become the saviour of an injured hare?” Woodforde enquired, crossing one well-formed top-booted leg over the other. “One must assume Edgecombe is a sportsman, as Ellsworth is. He may not find your rescue admirable.”

  “He need not know of it,” Catherine returned. “And no. I have not relinquished my plan. Part of my errand to town yesterday was to speak to Mrs. Turner and enlist her aid in learning more about Lord Edgecombe. I have determined the best way to fix a gentleman’s interest is to like what he likes. Mrs. Turner tells me men are very like children in that way.”

  It occurred to Catherine that perhaps Lord Woodforde knew something of Lord Edgecombe’s preferences. Gentlemen often heard of other gentleman of similar rank through business and society when in town. “Do you know anything of Lord Edgecombe—other than your assumption that he is a sportsman?” she asked.

  “I am sorry, I do not, but I shall engage to pass any information I may hear in the future along to you,” Woodforde promised. In a more serious tone he added, “It is not like you to pretend to be what you are not, Miss Trevor. Do you really believe it necessary or prudent to do so in order to fix Lord Edgecombe’s interest? Will the marquess not find you out with time? You have always been of a most frank and open character—would it not be better to continue so rather than pretending interests you do not have?”