Rondo Allegro (47 page)

“Lt. Sayers? Did you go aboard Henry’s ship?” Harriet asked.

“I was there from Cadiz to when we landed at Gibraltar,”
Anna said.

Mr. Elstead’s silver clattered to his plate. “Was you at the
battle?”

“Yes.” Anna gave a little Gallic shrug. “But I saw nothing.”

Mr. Elstead then took over as principal talker, to Harriet’s
private disgust. She liked her brother-in-law very much, but she had read every
word written in the newspapers about the battle, which he now insisted on
retailing to the family, and she had heard his droll stories about stitchers at
fences, and other hunting mishaps, time and again.

She wanted to hear more about Henry’s lady’s mysterious
past, but the lady herself spoke no more than fifty words from the white soup
through two complete sides and four removes to the towering dessert of savory
jelly
a la Bellevue
.

Anna watched carefully for the clues to the mysterious
custom of English ladies retiring. As the servants carried away the dessert
trays, Anna saw Lady Emily Northcote make a motion as if to rise, then sit
back, her brow constricting and her mouth pressed in a line. A heartbeat later
her face smoothed.

Anna smiled at the dowager. “What is your custom on
retiring?”

The dowager blinked rapidly, flattered to be asked, which
her daughter-in-law never had done. “It is your place to choose when we go.”

So Anna rose. The other ladies rose with her, and because
she had no idea where they were to go, Anna offered her arm to the dowager, who
led the way through two doors to the drawing room.

This room was pleasantly warm, with branches of candles set
at every wall. Anna took in the paintings, the fine paper above the
wainscoting, but her eye lingered on the fortepiano in the corner, with a harp
set up next to it. She remembered the captain’s love of music. For the first
time she began to look forward to her stay: surely she was come into a musical
family?

Mr. Elstead sauntered in from the dining room, laughing as
he said, “I am a very sad fellow. I cannot abide sitting alone.”

On his last word the tea things were brought through the unobtrusive
servants’ door and set upon a fine Pembroke table. A servant poured. Once again
the talk was general.

After the tea things were taken away, Mr. Elstead genially
said, “How about a round of whist?”

Anna was about to admit that she did not know these games
when Emily said in her sweet, soft voice, “Must I remind you, brother, that we
are a house of mourning?”

That statement had the effect of breaking up the family
party, the dowager saying that her head ached and she must retire.

Before she left, she turned to Anna, peering in her
near-sighted way, and said kindly, “You must be very tired from your travels. Pray
rest tomorrow, if you wish.”

Anna then remembered that today was Saturday, and she would
be expected to attend church on the morrow. Yet another requirement for manners
she barely remembered.

She did not have to pretend to exhaustion. She was grateful to
retire to that room with the blue flowers, and yes, the bed was not only aired,
but a warming pan had been inserted between the sheets.

She fell asleep trying to remember if her mother had ever
mentioned how very, very cold England was. All Anna remembered hearing about
was the beauty and the green.

o0o

Sunday was a long, slow, cold day during which the sun
never seemed to rise at all.

Anna woke late to discover the family gone. She heard
women’s voices in the mid-afternoon after they had returned from church, but
the clearest one was high and sharp, so unpleasant on the ears that Anna
retreated to her bed, coming out when she could not bear her own company any
longer. Outside, rain fell steadily.

In the dining room, cold food was set out, unappetizing to
Anna, who craved warmth. At least the family had dispersed to various parts of
the house. But no sooner had she thought that than Lady Emily Northcote
appeared, and set about filling a plate. The dowager appeared a moment later,
sending Anna a tremulous smile as Anna rose yet again to curtsey.

The talk was polite yet desultory. Anna ventured no
questions, or even observations. Her head ached; now that she was downstairs,
she longed for her room, which at least did not require her to listen to quick
speech, and formulate properly spoken answers.

She clutched her tea cup to her hands as the door opened
once again, and a primly dressed woman brought in two little girls and a baby.
The girls were told to curtsey to “Lady Northcote.”

The girls stared fixedly at Anna, neither speaking, and Anna
stared back, wondering what to say.

But she discovered she was not expected to say anything.
Lady Emily Northcote said only, in return for their polite little curtseys, “I
trust you are being good girls for Nurse.” She did not look at the baby at all.

The girls were led to the dowager, to whom they performed
their curtseys for the third time, and then they made their escape; before they
vanished, Anna saw the youngest one’s little fingers steal into the hands of
the nurse.

The door shut upon them. Lady Emily Northcote turned to
Anna. “It is time to ring for the carriage, but if you do not feel well enough
to attend evening service, pray do not feel obliged.”

Anna said, “Thank you.”

She retired to bed, oppressed by the cold, the heavy
silence, the unappetizing cold food.

She shivered under the covers, and daydreamed wild plans.
She must get away, perhaps leave for London, and try the theaters. But even her
imagination weighed her down with disagreeable realities. She had not worked
with her voice for weeks. She did not know the season’s new operas, or what the
English might be partial to.

She fell asleep at last, and dreamed of arguing pointlessly
with some faceless man at Covent Garden, which looked vaguely like the Feydeau.

o0o

Anna woke the next day relaxed and warm under the
bedclothes, but when she sat up the cold air rushing beneath the covers caused
her to lie flat again. It had to be too early. She was going to turn over and
attempt to return to sleep when she became aware of small noises through the
open door to the wardrobe.

She lifted her head. “Parrette?”

“Ah! I was about to send Polly in to make up your fire,”
Parrette said. “A very good girl.”

“Who is Polly?”

“You will meet the staff after breakfast,” Parrette said. “The
family is sitting down to it now.”

“So early?”

“It is half-past nine,” Parrette stated.

Anna gasped, glancing at the dim blue light in the windows.
“I thought it was sunrise!”

“And so it was, a little while ago. The sun rises late here.
Very late. But I am told that all the hours stolen from you now will be given
back in long twilights come summer. I have a bath waiting. The water will chill
fast,” she warned.

Anna had no trouble believing that and whirled out of bed.

A short time later she arrived at breakfast, reflecting that
she thought she understood why the English cumbered themselves with gloves and
hats as well as extra layers of clothing. In spite of the many chimneys and
well-tended fires, the house was full of cold drafts along the floors and stairways.

The dowager, Harriet, and Emily stared when Anna appeared
wrapped in the second of her cashmere shawls, the one made of blues, greens,
and gold.

She said, “I hope you will forgive me. I chose the least
colorful of the two. It is just that I am so very cold.” As Harriet reached a
cautious finger to touch the silken fringe, and the dowager blinked rapidly,
Emily looked blank. “If it is offensive, I will have breakfast in my chamber,”
Anna offered.

“No, no,” the dowager said faintly, hands fluttering. “We
quite understand, don’t we?” She cast a look of appeal at her daughter and
daughter-in-law.

“We are only among ourselves,” Emily said smoothly. “And in
point of fact, the required period for mourning could be said to be ending
soon.”

“Six days,” Harriet stated.

“Harriet, dear,” the dowager began.

Harriet said, “Mama, begging your pardon, but I have been in
black clothes this ten ages. John wore a black hatband for six months after
Papa was gone. I think if anyone would understand giving over the black after
the expected year and a day, he would. Except that I have nothing fit to be
seen in.”

No one responded to that sally, and the dowager turned to
Anna, peering near-sightedly at her shawl. “Did Henry give you that, Lady
Northcote?” the dowager asked. “It is very, very beautiful.”

“Thank you! No, I bought it in Spain,” Anna said as she
helped herself to eggs and toasted bread. “It is said the fashion for these
shawls began with the new empress of the French.”

“Yes,” Harriet spoke up. “I read about them in a magazine at
Jane’s. It is said that Josephine has hundreds and
hundreds
of them.”

Emily sent Harriet a glance, and Harriet sat back with a
sigh.

Anna turned her gaze away, not liking to see the only
talking person suppressed so coldly. She had spied little silver trays beside
the plates: this had to be the post. Lady Emily Northcote’s bore a slim pile,
and the dowager one or two. Anna’s tray at the foot of the table was bare.

She suppressed a sharp sense of disappointment, the captain,
and his ship and crew foremost in mind. She cleared her throat, and made an
effort to speak into that cold, formal air, but it felt as if her words fell
dead. “I hope I may come to you for advice on how to go into the town. Where is
a path that I may walk? I must needs make a call.”

“You are spared the necessity of social calls until the
hatchment is taken from the door,” said Emily.

“You will meet the neighborhood at church Sunday next,” the
dowager put in with an air of offering a compromise.

Anna thanked them both, but then: “This is a call of
necessity. I promised a certain midshipman that I would visit his family, and I
mean to do that straight away. I feel certain no family would care to wait a
day longer than necessary for news of their son.”

“A middie?” Harriet asked. “From the neighborhood? Who is
he?”

“His name is Bradshaw. He told me he lives in High Street. I
believe I glimpsed the shop when we arrived. What is the proper time for this
call? What is correct in England?”

“I should think customs are very different from what one is
used to, living in a royal palace,” the dowager said.

Royal palace?
Parrette had obviously been talking! Anna strictly suppressed the urge to
laugh.

“Royal palace?” Emily repeated, and Anna wondered at the
avenues of communication in the household, especially as Harriet did not
express any surprise, but looked down at her plate with a half-hidden smile.

The dowager blinked at Anna. “I did hear correctly, you
lived in a royal palace?”

“That is correct, Lady Northcote. In Naples,” Anna said, and
to them all, “And so? If I walk out along this road in front of the house, will
that take me into the town?”

Harriet began to say, “It’s faster to go through the
meadow—”

A glance from her sister-in-law caused her to subside.

Emily’s expression shuttered, her beautiful face smooth as
marble. Then she said in her sweet, precise voice, “Speaking strictly upon
point of etiquette, you need not call at all. There is of course the matter of
our mourning, but there are also our differing spheres of life. I have no
notion, of course, of what is deemed proper in royal palaces of foreign places,
but here, it might appear . . . That is to say, sending a letter
would meet the case as well, do you not think, Lady Northcote?” she turned to
the dowager.

“I am sure I do not know.” The dowager was very much
flustered. She turned her weak eyes to Anna. “Did dearest Henry request this of
you?”

Anna was almost tempted to lie, which caused a pulse of
irritation. She felt a moral right to make this call, though she did not particularly
expect any pleasure from it, which ought to supersede the niceties of social
expectations. But did it in these people’s eyes? She had no intention of hiding
what was right behind the captain’s name, but what
would
he expect?

She remembered him staggering out of the orlop wounded,
because his duty was most important, even more than his life. “He did not, but
I believe he would want me to carry out my promise,” she said, seeing a slight
stir in Emily. No more than the tightening of a shoulder, the turn of her head,
but she sensed currents here impossible for her to penetrate.

“At all events,” Anna said. “While my husband was
unconscious, and unable to be consulted, I did promise this boy, wounded in
service of his kingdom, that I would call upon his parents directly to convey
his words. I said nothing of writing a note.”

Emily said, “Then of course you must keep your promise. But,
if you will permit me to observe, there is no necessity for walking into town
through the dirt in the lane. We have riding hacks. Do you ride, Lady
Northcote?”

Anna was obliged to admit that she did not.

“You may take the little gig,” the dowager said. “Noll is a
very safe driver, if you do not drive. He takes me about quite comfortably.”

“Thank you,” Anna said. “And the time?”

“No doubt they sit down to dinner very early,” Emily said.
“You will not wish to put them out, so you might make a morning call.”

“Then I had better put myself right,” Anna said, but then
she looked as bewildered as she felt. How to go about getting the gig?

Harriet bounced up. “I will go tell Noll to hitch up the
gig. Would you care for company? I would be happy to point things out.”

“Thank you,” Anna said gratefully.

Diggory bowed Anna out the front door, where Noll was
waiting, at the same time that another carriage drove up. Diggory recognized
the squire’s carriage, and with a flick of his eyes sent the footman running
outside to the carriage door. For the squire’s wife, he would not go himself.