Carola Dunn (17 page)

“Because it is the proper dress for a governess. I only took it off because Lord Orton’s mama wished me to. Lady Ashe will certainly expect me to wear it.”

“I’ll tell Grandmama you’re prettier without a cap, Miss Findlay,” Colin volunteered.

“Pray do not! I have no objection to it, I assure you.”

“When Mama comes, she will tell you to take it off again.”

“In that case, I shall leave it to Lady Ashe and Lady Orton to come to an agreement and inform me of their decision. In the meantime, you are not to mention it to your grandmama, Lord Orton.”

“Lord Orton!” Peter exclaimed. “Won’t Colin’s grandmama let you call him Colin any longer?”

“She did not say so, precisely, but she spoke to me of him as Lord Orton, so that is how I shall address him.”

Colin pouted. “I don’t like being called Lord Orton.”

“You might call the lad Master Colin, miss,” Nanny Bessemer suggested. “Her la’ship likes things done proper but she’s no ogre.”

“That’s better,” Colin said sadly, “but I was going to ask if I can call you Lissa, like Peter and Michael do.”

“‘If I
may
...
as
Peter and Michael do,’“ Lissa corrected automatically, thinking. “Suppose I call you Master Colin and you call me Miss Lissa? If Lady Ashe dislikes it, we shall change.”

They soon had an opportunity to discover the dowager’s opinion. The footman who came to clear the table brought a message: Miss Findlay, her charge, and her brothers were summoned to Lady Ashe’s sitting room.

Nanny was a great help, wiping the milk moustache from Michael’s upper lip and egg yolk from his chin, and slicking down his unruly hair, while Lissa made sure the older boys were clean and tidy. She tied the ribbon of her cap more firmly under her chin and draped the shawl around her shoulders to conceal as much as possible of Lady Orton’s elegant gown and her own figure.

“All ready? Come along, then. On your best behaviour, boys!”

As they descended the stairs to her ladyship’s ground floor apartments, situated in the wing farthest from the nurseries, Michael asked anxiously, “Does your grandmama like boys, Colin?”

“Mostly,” Colin assured him.

Lady Ashe, in a pink, beruffled dressing-gown, reclined on a sofa in a sitting room full of roses. Every table held a vase and a huge bouquet filled the fireplace, hiding the empty grate. Lissa prayed the boys would not knock any over. All possible surfaces were covered with exquisitely embroidered flowers, she noted.

Curtsying, she murmured, “Good morning, ma’am.”

“Good morning, Grandmama.”

“Good morning, my lady,” Peter and Michael chorussed, and all three bowed in unison. Lissa was proud of them.

“Good morning.” Lady Ashe held out her hand to her grandson. “Colin, dear child, come and kiss me. How do you feel this morning?”

“Right as a trivet, Grandmama. Much better than in London. I was dreadfully ill, but Miss Lissa made me better.”

“Miss Lissa?”

“She said I may. Peter and Michael call her Lissa ‘cause she’s their sister, but I have to say Miss ‘cause she’s my governess.”

“I see. If Miss Findlay permits it, I daresay there is no harm. Will you present your friends to me?”

Colin made a masterly job of the introductions. Peter bowed again and said politely, “How do you do, ma’am.”

Michael burst out, “Are you Lord Ashe’s mama?”

Lissa cringed as Lady Ashe raised her eyebrows in an expression strongly reminiscent of her son at his most sardonic. “I am,” her ladyship acknowledged.

“When he was a little boy, did you faint or have hyskerics when he came into your drawing room with a dead rabbit, all bloody?”

Appalled, Lissa reached for her little brother, not sure whether to clamp her hand across his mouth or bundle him straight out of the room. To her astonishment, Lady Ashe laughed.

“Neither, my dear. I told him to deliver the corpse to the kitchen for Cook to dress for dinner.”

“Gosh, really? When I’m old enough, I’ll shoot a rabbit for your dinner if you like. But I shan’t bring it into your drawing room.”

“Thank you. You are a little young for a gun, but how should you like to go fishing? The tackle Lord Ashe used as a boy must be about somewhere, and I believe there were poles and nets for his cousins, too, enough for the three of you.”

Peter and Colin swung round to Lissa, faces alight with hope.

“May we?” Colin begged.

“Would it be bad for Colin?” asked Peter, earning an approving look from Lady Ashe.

“I doubt it. Fresh air without too much exertion--it sounds perfect. Thank you, ma’am.”

Lady Ashe nodded graciously. She asked Colin about his lessons, raising her eyebrows again slightly when he said he didn’t mind having a tutor come autumn as Peter and Michael were to study with him. Standing by the door, Lissa watched her face carefully, anxious not to let the boys tire her. She seemed to enjoy their chatter, however.

They were telling her about the King Arthur book when a tall, severe-looking woman came in. Lady Ashe introduced her as her cousin and companion, Miss Barbican.

A moment’s swift thought told Lissa that though a hired companion and a governess were roughly equal in status, a cousin--even a poor relation--was superior. She curtsied as Peter bowed, quickly copied by Colin and Michael. Again Lady Ashe looked upon Peter with approval.

Miss Barbican gave them a stiff, frosty nod. “You must not let the children weary you, Maria,” she said to Lady Ashe.

“They do not, Jane, I assure you. Colin’s young friends appear to be well-behaved boys, Miss Findlay is in charge, and Robert keeps an eye on them all, so I have no need to exert myself. It will be delightful to have young people about the place again, I vow.”

Lissa dared hope her ladyship might even help to persuade Lady Orton to let Colin stay at Ashmead under his governess’s care.

* * * *

Lord Ashe awaited Lissa and the boys in the schoolroom. “How did it go?” he asked.

“Uncle Robert, Grandmama said we may go fishing!”

“And did Miss Findlay say you may go fishing?”

“Yes, we asked, didn’t we, Miss Lissa?”

“You did,” Lissa agreed with a smile. “Lady Ashe thought your fishing tackle must still be about, sir?”

He directed the boys to look in a cupboard in the corner. They dived in with cries of excitement, excavating rods, fishing nets and butterfly nets, cricket and baseball bats and balls, shuttlecocks and battledores, and other outdoor paraphernalia.

“How did it go?” Lord Ashe repeated to Lissa.

“Very well. Unlike Mrs. Busby, Lady Ashe appears to have an affinity with small boys.”

“She was always an indulgent mother to me. I’m afraid Daphne rather got the short end of the stick,” he mused. “She was never permitted to fish or play cricket with me. You know: Boys will be boys, but girls must be young ladies, which explains, I daresay, why her interests now are so limited.” He flushed, as if suddenly realizing he ought not to criticize his sister to Lissa. “Were you brought up on that principle?”

“Oh no. Until I was eleven....” She hesitated, trying to foresee whether she was about to give away any dangerous secrets. “We had lots of neighbours with both boys and girls about my age, and Papa encouraged me to try whatever I wished.”

“Whereas your stepfather, I collect, did not even allow boys to be boys,” Lord Ashe said grimly. Lissa flinched, dreading questions. He touched her sleeve. “Never fear, I don’t mean to probe.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, and turned with relief to stop a squabble over who was to get the best fishing pole. “You shall take turns. Master Colin first, because all these things were his uncle’s, then Peter because he is the eldest.”

“I don’t mind,” Michael said bravely, obviously minding a great deal.

“You shall be first with something else,” Lissa promised, hugging him.

He pulled away. “Don’t do that. I’m too old for that baby stuff.”

“Already?” said Lissa with a pang of dismay.

“No, you’re not,” Peter said at once. “Not till you’re eleven.”

Colin flung his arms around her waist. “You can hug me. I’m only ten.”

“Me too, just this once,” said Peter loftily, joining in.

Michael changed his mind. “You can hug me any time, Lissa,” he cried.

Laughing, Lissa embraced all three.

“What about me?” Lord Ashe asked in a plaintive voice.

Lissa sternly suppressed a quiver of longing. She cast a reproachful glance at him over the boys’ heads, as Colin said, “You’re much too old, Uncle Robert.”

“Not too old, I hope, to take you fishing.”

“No!”

“Will you really?”

Deserting Lissa, they flung themselves on Lord Ashe.

“You will come with us, Miss Findlay! I cannot possibly control all three at once.”

“I am sure you can, sir.” Lissa badly wanted to go, but common caution told her she must not spend too much time in his company. Not only was the frisson she felt when he suggested hugging her a danger signal, but Lady Ashe would legitimately view such conduct with disfavour, perhaps with suspicion. “I must see all our clothes and books sorted out and properly disposed, so that we can begin lessons tomorrow.”

“Lessons!” Colin protested. “We are not to have a tutor till the autumn.”

“You don’t want to forget everything you know, do you?” said Peter. “The tutor will think you’re a slowtop.”

“Just an hour a day,” Lissa promised. “That will be plenty, especially as I do not wish to tax Master Colin’s strength when he was so recently ill.”

“I suppose Colin is well enough to go fishing?” Lord Ashe’s question brought a horrified pause as the boys saw their treat withdrawn.

“I’m excessively well!” Colin cried.

“All the same,” said Lord Ashe blandly, “I cannot think it wise for Miss Findlay to entrust you entirely to me on this first outing, when she is the one who knows how to deal with your attacks.”

So Lissa went too.

Chapter 14

Lady Orton arrived, Sir Quentin in tow, a day before her brother expected her. Magnificent in a royal blue carriage dress and beplumed bonnet, she swept into the schoolroom just as Colin was about to go down for his daily tea with his grandmother.

Colin ran to her--stopping on the way for a hasty bow--and kissed her. “Mama, it is such fun here, you cannot imagine! Are you coming to live at Ashmead?” he asked eagerly.

“Live at Ashmead? Good gracious, darling, I should go into a decline.”

“But I can breathe properly here. I don’t want to live in London. Couldn’t I live here with Miss Lissa and Peter and Michael? And Grandmama and Uncle Robert, too, of course. And Nanny. And Curly.”

“Curly?”

“Curly’s a terrier. Uncle Robert’s lent her to us, but if we go on living here he’ll give her. And you could come to see me very, very often?”

“I am very, very cross with Uncle Robert.” A cloud that was nearly a frown passed across her lovely face.

“I am so sorry, Lady Orton,” Lissa said apprehensively. “We left in a great hurry and there was no way to notify you beforehand.”

“My dear Miss Findlay, no blame attaches to you. I would not expect you to hold out against my brother’s orders.”

“But I did not try,” Lissa confessed. “It was my belief that Master Colin’s health would improve in the country which induced Lord Ashe to remove him to Ashmead.”

“Well, it appears you were right,” Lady Ashe acknowledged, regarding her son with a sunny smile. “I do believe you have grown an inch, my love, in just a week, and your cheeks are quite rosy.”

“I can play cricket, Mama, and climb trees, and run quite a long way. Not as far as Peter and Michael.”

“Almost,” said Michael encouragingly. “Your legs are longer than mine.”

“Colin was very ill in London, my lady,” Peter put in. “We thought...we were afraid he was going to die.”

“Darling, was it so dreadful?” Lady Orton hugged Colin. “The note your uncle left me said you had a bad attack, but the servants told me the doctor was not called in.”

“Dr. Hardin never did me any good. I was frightened, Mama. If it wasn’t for Miss Lissa I’d be dead now, and you would have to wear black like when Papa died. I don’t want to go back to London.”

“We shall see, darling. I must consult your grandmama and Miss Findlay and Uncle Robert--after I have rung a peal over his head.”

“Ring away,” said Lord Ashe, sauntering into the room. “My head is at your disposal, Daphne. I am ready to own myself at fault, provided you realize Miss Findlay had no say in the matter.”

“I know that. I am really quite cross with you, Rob. You might at least have stayed at Aunt Busby’s so that I could see Colin before you brought him all the way to Ashmead.”

Lord Ashe’s eyes, brimful of laughter, met Lissa’s. “My dear Daphne, you cannot suppose Aunt Busby would have permitted us to remain in her house a moment longer than absolutely necessary to Colin’s health. Indeed, she regarded his sickness as one more affront to her sensibilities.”

“Was she perfectly horrid to you? Poor Rob! And to you, Colin darling?”

“No, Mama, for I did not see her. We ran away in the morning before she woke up.”

Lady Orton’s laugh chimed like silver bells, and that was the extent of the peal she rang over her erring brother’s impenitent head.

If her ladyship consulted her mother and Lord Ashe about Colin’s remaining at Ashmead, Lissa knew nothing of it. To her it appeared that Lady Orton accepted the removal as a
fait accompli
and ceased to fret over it.

She and Lord Quentin stayed for several days. They called on neighbours, which led to a flurry of social activities in the district. They shopped in Bascombe-on-the-Water, which led to Lissa’s acquisition of a bonnet and yards of ribbon, lace, and bugle trimming, discovered on arriving home to be shockingly commonplace. They strolled in the rose garden, which led to Lady Orton tearing a flounce on a thorn. They were introduced by Colin to Curly, which led to muddy footprints on Lord Quentin’s pantaloons.

They remembered an invitation to a house party in Hampshire and dashed off. Colin moped for half an hour, then dashed off to the stables for the daily riding lesson.