Double Masquerade Page 4

  “I have tried, Lady Manning, as you know,” Woodforde said, also looking at Catherine. “But what is one to do when the lady of one’s choice is cruel and will not accept one’s suit?”

  “Find another who wishes to be a mother and companion,” Catherine replied, still avoiding Woodforde’s gaze. She was beginning to wish she had not shared her plans to bring Lord Edgecombe to an offer with her aunt, for it appeared to have made the lady more determined than ever to promote a match with Woodforde. “I am certain there are many women who would be happy to accept such a position.”

  “No doubt that is correct Catherine, for any woman should be honoured to be the wife of Lord Woodforde,” Lord Trevor said with a disapproving look at his daughter before he turned his attention to his guest.

  “Have you heard the recommendation of Stark not to allow ivy to grow at the base of one’s trees, Woodforde?” Lord Trevor asked, steering the conversation onto more congenial topics. “I have had success myself with growing it at the base of trees that are in a location where they receive too much sun and wind.”

  Lord Woodforde accepted his host’s change of subject, and Catherine was relieved when, shortly afterwards, Lady Manning stood and the women retired to the small drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port and conversation.

  “I must go see how the leveret is doing, Aunt Manning,” Catherine said as Lady Manning settled herself on her favorite Chippendale arm chair. “I shall return momentarily.”

  “I hope the hare is restored to health soon, niece, for if he is not I can see that your manners as well as your household duties will suffer,” her aunt said in a resigned voice as she picked up her spectacles and a piece of fancywork. “Your father enjoys his music of an evening, so make certain you have returned within the half-hour.”

  Catherine hurried to the parlour, slowing her steps as she approached the box so as not to frighten the hare. Peering into the box, she saw that he was crouched flat, unmoving except for the faint in-and-out motion of his flanks that told her he was still breathing. The wounds were still raw and angry-looking, but there was no sign of suppuration, and Catherine hoped this meant they had not become infected and would soon heal. Reaching for the basket of fruit Lord Woodforde had brought, she selected a peach and slowly placed it into the box. The hare’s nose wiggled faster, but he made no attempt to eat the fruit, and Catherine knew he would be best served by being left in peace until morning. Satisfied, she returned to the small drawing room to await the gentlemen.

  “I believe the leveret is going to survive, aunt,” Catherine announced in satisfaction as she took a chair next to her aunt. “I am so pleased; he is such a gentle-looking creature. Truly, I had not considered the nature of hares before I read Mr. Cowper’s essay. How strange it is to think that we do not contemplate the natures of the animals we see every day. I suppose even a mouse or a rat may have their charms, should one observe them with great enough attention.”

  “It is just as well we do not, for I should not care to be overrun with mice and rats because I had become acquainted with them,” Lady Manning observed. “And should you befriend the deer and salmon our table would soon lack variety. I suspect we will see no more dishes of hare or rabbit as it is.”

  Catherine started guiltily, for she had so ordered the housekeeper earlier that day.

  The door from the dining room opened and Lord Trevor and Lord Woodforde entered.

  “We must have disturbed a conversation of which we were the subject, for I see a look of consciousness upon your countenance, Miss Trevor,” Lord Woodforde commented as he took a seat on the sofa, crossing his legs and stretching his arm across the sofa back.

  “I believe her guilt has more to do with an order the housekeeper gave Cook today rather than gossip about your lordships,” Lady Manning commented.

  “What would that have been and why would it cause Catherine disquiet?” Lord Trevor asked as he settled into his favorite chair. “I like to see my daughter taking an active role in the ordering of the household.”

  “I shall remind you of that statement when you ask why certain dishes appear no more upon the table,” his sister said enigmatically, eyeing her brother over the top of her spectacles.

  “Ah, I see,” Lord Woodforde said in understanding, although Lord Trevor’s expression remained puzzled. In an attempt to divert his host from further pursuing the subject, Lord Woodforde added, “Will you play upon your harp for us, Miss Trevor? I find it most soothing.”

  “Certainly, Lord Woodforde,” Catherine acquiesced, standing and going to her instrument. She settled herself upon the armless chair before it, tipped the harp into her shoulder, and ran her fingers lightly over the strings. Hearing that it was not far out of tune, she spread her sheets of music onto the stand and began to play excerpts from a new concerto for the harp by Mozart while the others continued conversing in quiet voices.

  If only life could always continue like this, Catherine mused, she would be content enough with her lot, for her days had both purpose and pleasure and she herself felt cared for and needed by family and friends. Yet things never did remain the same—that much she had learned from life—and one must prepare for the future. She had left seeking her own establishment longer than she should have precisely because of her contentment, but with her thirtieth year looming she could delay no longer. Should the Marquess of Edgecombe prove to be of acceptable character, she must seek to attach his affections before Miss Louisa Ellsworth or another young woman did so.

  Chapter Three

  Catherine devoted hours to tending her injured hare over the next several weeks, delighting in each step she took toward gaining the wild creature’s trust as his wounds healed. She studied Mr. Cowper’s writings, paying attention to what he fed his hares and copying his husbandry as near as she might. The footman, James, and housekeeper, Mrs. Porter, took an interest in the hare as well, and saved many choice bits from the kitchens for the animal’s delectation.

  Once the hare accepted her presence, Catherine noticed he seemed to understand that she would not harm him, and he began to display individuality and character. Each morning when she entered the parlour, where he had remained, the hare would immediately hop over to the side of the box and stand on his hind legs, the inside of his ears turned toward her, nose wriggling. When she neared the box he would hop away to a corner and wait for her to put his food into the box, and then hop back to eat it once her hand was withdrawn. Although Catherine wished he would come to trust her to the extent that she could touch him, she understood it would take time and was careful not to undo her progress through impatience.

  When berries began to ripen in mid-July, Catherine searched the bushes in Rosemont’s woods for the largest succulent fruits to offer William, as she had named the hare. Early one July morning she entered the parlour when she first rose, as was her habit, bringing some especially fine berries she had picked the day before. But when Catherine approached the box she did not hear him hopping over to the side as was his habit, nor did she see the tips of his long ears pointing over the top.

  “William?” Catherine called as she came up to the box. Worried, she looked into the box, only to find it empty!

  “Aunt Manning, William is gone!” she cried, hurrying into the breakfast room where her aunt sat at table, her early morning chocolate and buttered bread before her.

  “Calm yourself, Catherine,” Lady Manning said as she set her cup down onto the table and rose. “William is much improved; he must have jumped out of the box. We should have foreseen such an occurrence with his return to health. Ring James and we shall search for him.”

  Lady Manning, Catherine, and James searched throughout the house, looking under furniture, behind draperies, and inside cupboards without success.

  “Oh, I hope he did not go outside,” Catherine fretted, tears beginning to prick her eyelids. “He cannot survive alone! He will fall prey to Ellsworth’s hounds again, or a fox will get him!”

  “If he di
d escape out-of-doors, which I doubt, he may remain close by, for the area will be unfamiliar to him,” Lady Manning advised her niece. “We should most likely have the opportunity of finding him before he would leave view of the house. Let us find out if any of the maids or Mrs. Porter has seen William during the execution of their duties this morning.”

  “I shall continue to search…” Catherine began, trailing off when she was interrupted by the entry of the butler.

  “Your ladyship,” the butler said to Lady Manning. “His lordship wishes to see you and Miss Trevor in the library.”

  “Perhaps he has knowledge of William,” Catherine said hopefully. “We must hasten, for I do not wish to delay our search.”

  Catherine hurried into the library where her father stood behind his desk, holding a newspaper so as to catch the morning light from the east windows.

  “Ah, here you are, daughter,” he said, lowering the paper. “I believe you have been searching for your hare?”

  “Do you know where he is?” Catherine asked eagerly.

  Without speaking, Lord Trevor gestured toward the base of the bookshelves. Catherine looked down and there, sitting before the bottom shelf, sat William, nibbling on the spine of a large volume.

  “Unless you can teach him better manners,” the viscount said with admirable coolness, “I think you had best move him to the walled garden without delay.”

  “Oh William,” sighed Catherine with a mixture of relief that he was safe and guilt that he was damaging her father’s volumes. “I do not know how I can coax him away,” Catherine voiced her thoughts. “If I grab him or chase him I shall destroy the trust I have tried so hard to build.”

  “Could you persuade him to leave for a piece of his favorite fruit?” Lady Manning suggested, following her niece into the library and gaining much amusement from the picture the large-eared hare presented sitting on the fine Wilton carpet, munching a bite of gold-stamped leather book binding.

  “Perhaps,” Catherine agreed. “It is worth trying.”

  “James,” Lady Manning ordered the footman who had helped them in their search and now stood at the door awaiting further commands, “fetch some fruit or fresh vegetables from the kitchen.”

  While James disappeared on his errand, Catherine attempted to stop the hare from chewing on her father’s books by blocking them with her hands and arms, but each time she prevented him chewing volumes on one shelf he simply hopped over to another.

  “Lord Woodforde,” the butler announced, forced to perform the duty in the absence of the footman.

  “What is this? A new pastime?” asked Woodforde, watching with a smile as Catherine bobbed back and forth from one library shelf to another in her attempts to keep the hare from the books.

  “My daughter’s hare has learned tastes,” Lord Trevor stated dryly. “He has sampled Hogarth, Addison, and Montaigne. Pray keep him from my Virgil, Daughter; I have a sentimental attachment to the volume from my youth.”

  James returned with a handful of carrots, and Catherine took several. She crouched and extended one to William while the footman stood behind the hare to encourage him to move forward as Catherine backed up, still holding the carrot. Apparently feeling some vegetables were in order after his entrée of book spines, William hopped after the carrot. Each time Catherine backed up she allowed William a small taste of the carrot before moving back a bit farther, and within a few minutes she had coaxed the hare out through the library door.

  “I think we had best try to coax him out into the walled garden,” Catherine said to James, who continued to assist Catherine’s efforts by blocking William’s return to the library by following behind. Catherine backed past the door to the parlour and continued down the hall holding the carrot in one hand and trying to keep her skirts from tripping her with the other, while Lord Woodforde and Lady Manning followed several paces behind, much diverted by the spectacle.

  “If you are going to follow us you might pay for your amusement by helping,” Catherine called in some asperity. “I shall open the door to the garden, and if you walk side-by-side down the hall blocking his retreat while James and I block the hall past the door, William may choose to run into the garden.”

  Catherine stood up and opened the door into the walled garden and then stood to its side, blocking that way of exit with James while Woodforde and Lady Manning advanced inexorably toward the hare from behind. William, seeing the shaft of sunlight crossing the hallway from the garden door, loped in that direction and hopped through the door without hesitation.

  “I think we had best search the garden to be sure there are no escape holes or anything that might cause William harm,” Woodforde suggested. “James, check the walls for cracks and holes. Miss Trevor, you and I shall search for any plants or objects that might present a danger.”

  A thorough search of the garden revealed one small hole in a corner of the wall and a patch of noxious weed. James was dispatched to order them taken care of, and Catherine, Woodforde, and Lady Manning watched as William continued to investigate his new home, ears forward, neck outstretched, nose wriggling rapidly at all the new scents.

  “He will be content here,” Catherine observed. “I think I had best keep the far door locked, though, lest someone enter from the grounds and allow his escape. The house entrance I may leave unlocked, for should he gain the house again the worst he can do is to nibble more of Papa’s books.”

  “Now that you may be more at ease regarding William’s health, I hope you will accept my invitation to dinner at Woodford Park Tuesday week,” Woodforde said to Lady Manning and Catherine. “I plan to invite the Ellsworths, Turners, and several other families as well. Given that I prefer to hold smaller entertainments, I think it best to extend my invitations before the arrival of the marquess in mid-August,” he elaborated.

  “I think Catherine can have no objections,” Lady Manning answered for her niece before she could refuse, “and my brother and I shall be pleased to accept.”

  “Until then, Lady Manning, Miss Trevor,” Woodforde said with a bow. “Thank you for a most entertaining morning.”

  The Monday before Woodforde’s dinner Catherine drove her landaulet to Moreton Manor to see Sarah Turner. Surely by now her friend would have heard some gossip of Lord Edgecombe, Catherine thought. Leaving her horse and vehicle at the stable, she walked toward the house when the sound of children laughing and screaming in delight led her instead to the orchard behind the house, where she found Sarah playing with her children while the nursemaid watched. Ropes had been attached to the thick lower arms of one of the trees and the elder two of the children took turns swinging while the youngest sat among the grass, content with pulling up blades and picking them apart in her hands.

  Flushed and breathless from romping with her young ones, Sarah ordered the nursemaid to take the children under her charge again and joined Catherine.

  “I must rest a moment. Come sit with me under the trees while Nellie minds the children,” Sarah ordered Catherine, dropping to the ground and leaning her back against the trunk of an old apple tree. Taking off her wide-brimmed straw hat, Sarah vigorously fanned herself with it. “I confess I must not be as young as I was, for I find it difficult to run as fast as my three-year-old.”

  Catherine smiled at the picture her friend presented, her cheeks rosy, brown curls tumbled about her shoulders. “I think you need not worry about being called ‘old woman’ quite yet, Sarah. I wish I looked as well.”

  “Now that you have flattered me properly, I shall tell you what I am certain you have come to hear,” Sarah teased.

  “I shall not attempt to dissemble; you know me too well,” Catherine replied. “What have you heard of the Marquess of Edgecombe?”

  “That he has forty thousand a year, is known for his fine collections of porcelain and glass, has a garden with many rare specimens, is fond of music, dance, gaming, and is an admired sportsman.”

  Catherine looked thoughtful. “A gentleman of parts, indeed.
It will be no difficulty to admire him as you have advised. I already share half his interests. What was the third of your list of actions by which to attract a gentleman’s attentions? To amuse him, was it not? For that I shall have to wait until I meet him to know how to proceed.”

  “I had thought you might change your mind about this plan to attach the marquess,” Sarah admitted, replacing her wide-brimmed hat upon her head and tying the jonquil ribbon beneath her chin. “That perhaps it was but a whim. I am surprised to find you still determined upon your course.”

  “It was no more a whim than saving William,” Catherine explained. “One may determine upon a course of action quickly; that does not imply one’s action is frivolous.”

  “How is your hare?” Sarah asked interestedly.

  “William, as I named him in honour of Mr. Cowper, is recovered almost entirely. He has taken the walled garden for his own, and thinks himself quite a ruler in his small kingdom. I do so enjoy watching him gambol among the flowers—he makes the most amazing runs and leaps now he has his strength back.”

  “I should enjoy seeing that one day. What has come of your plan to invite Mr. Cowper to speak to our society?”

  “It has been agreed he would be an acceptable speaker, and I have written to invite him, promising we will stand his travel expenditures.

  “I believe your time to rest is at an end,” Catherine added, noticing that Sarah’s three young children had escaped their nursemaid and were running toward them as fast as they could, curls bouncing.

  “You will not escape either,” Sarah warned, rising from her seat under the tree as the children neared the two women. “Resign yourself to joining in their games if you do not wish to be labeled an old stick.”

  “Then surrender I must,” Catherine laughed, all thoughts of Lord Edgecombe abandoned for the moment.

  The late Lady Woodforde had refurbished Woodforde Park, retaining the services of the admired architect Robert Adams. When Catherine entered the dining room with the other women Tuesday evening she was once again reminded of Lady Woodforde’s impeccable taste as she noted the signature touches of Adam: a large sideboard, flanked by two pedestals topped with large urns, stood before one wall; the opposite wall graced with several large pelmeted and curtained windows. The remaining two walls displayed delicate curving plasterwork designs that contrasted with the large mahogany table in the centre of the room.