Emily Hendrickson (22 page)

Juliet, while thankful that Alexander had signaled for tea, felt inadequate as a hostess because of it. She trotted out all the little courtesies Miss Pritchard had drummed into her during the years at Winterton and was pleased to see the dowager give her a nod of approval.

Tea was an ordeal Juliet thought she weathered fairly well.

Precisely so much milk, then a small spoon of sugar, followed by steaming tea proved acceptable to the grand lady. Since Juliet had obeyed the dowager’s request, it wasn’t so remarkable, but it was a step in the right direction for agreeable relations.

“I should like to have the Rose Room, as Juliet no doubt properly has the one I occupied while I lived here,” the dowager intoned in that rich, plummy voice.

“Indeed, she has made it her own,” Alexander replied, referring to the little alterations Juliet had added—a screen, a comfortable chair, and changing the table that had been near the window for a larger size.

“I look forward to seeing it.” She finished her tea, nibbled approvingly on one of Mrs. Bassett’s lemon biscuits, then rose with queenly majesty.

“I shall go to my room for a rest before dinner. I fancy you wish to consult with Cook, Juliet. No rich sauces, if you please. They ruin my digestion.” With that informative bit, the dowager rose from the sofa, walked to the stairs, and was gone.

“You did very well, Juliet,” Alexander said quietly so that his words reached none but her.

“She is utterly terrifying,” Juliet replied, giving him a smile of thanks for his encomium. “I always thought of a grandmother as being cozy and comfortable. She is neither. Yet I believe I rather admire her. She is much like you.”

He grinned, then said, “Does that mean you like me as well?”

“Naturally,” she replied with as much composure as she could gather. “Now, I had better do as your grandmama suggested—see Cook regarding dinner.”

There were no rich sauces on the food that evening. Harry Riggs had brought back three fine trout, which Cook served to perfection following a delicate cream of mushroom soup that was heaven itself. The beef roast proved excellent, and the pureed carrots with a dish of new peas could not have been better. If the trifle was a bit lacking in sherry, it seemed to please the dowager.

“Nice little spot, that,” Marius said, referring to the fishing hole Harry had found. “I’ve never been much of a fisherman, but Harry showed me a number of pointers. I may take it up,” he concluded with a bite of the tender fish.

“It would be good if you did,” Juliet said with the right amount of diffidence. If Marius took to fishing the bountiful streams of Winterton, he might see there were things that needed doing, that he ought to attend to while at the estate.

Lord Taunton seemed abstracted, polite to the dowager, civil to Juliet, absentminded to the men. He ate well, spoke little, and in general seemed barely with them. Marius gave him more than one disgusted look.

“I would like to invite several people over to dine, if it please your ladyship,” Juliet said when she and the dowager left the table to the men and their port. “Perhaps in two or three days, depending upon how you feel. Travel can be so exhausting.”

“I am never tired,” the dowager claimed.

“How nice for you. I find I often become fatigued, especially when I have been in the garden. I thought to ask a number of people who have been friendly to us,” Juliet said composedly. She was not going to let the old dragon get the best of her.

“The Tackleys, I imagine. Who else?”

“The Oglebys, for both have been very good to me—to us. Parson Richards and the squire’s daughter, who is soon to be his wife—which also means Squire Otterly and his lady. And I must not forget Kate Ogleby—my stepbrother has paid her some attention. Lord Taunton is much taken with Lucy Tackley, and it would be a kindness to ask her as well.”

“Is that why he was so preoccupied during dinner? He looks ready to propose. Is he?” The dowager led Juliet to the sofa, then seated her close so the dowager could watch her every move.

“I believe so, my lady.” Juliet folded her hands neatly in her lap, wishing she had something to do with them.

“Are you in love with my grandson?” the dowager asked in an unexpected attack.

“Indeed, I am,” Juliet answered truthfully.

“You like children as well?” her ladyship inquired with ruthless determination.

“I do. I always regretted that my mother died so young, else I might have had a little sister or brother to love. Marius is so much older than I that I scarcely ever saw him.” Juliet nervously pleated the skirt of her new coral print muslin, wishing the men would forget their stupid port and rescue her.

“You lived at Winterton Hall with a governess, I suppose?” darted the swift rejoinder.

“Miss Pritchard. Yes, she was as near a mother to me as anyone might have been.”

“Likely better than a good many, from what I have seen,” the dowager said half to herself. “You enjoy living here?” her ladyship continued with a searching look out the window at the trees beyond, now becoming indistinct in the fading twilight.

“Oh, yes, indeed,” Juliet said warmly. “Who could not love this house and the pretty garden? Alexander is having an arbor constructed. Tomorrow you must see all that has been done.”

“The garden must have been sadly overgrown when you came. After my foolish daughter-in-law died out in the rain, the place was abandoned, left to go to rack and ruin. It was a good thing when Alexander’s man of business found Mrs. Bassett, I perceive. The house looks very fine.”

Juliet nodded, thinking of the countless hours of polishing and mending she’d undertaken when first she had come. Even the furniture had needed the attention of a skilled needlewoman, something Mrs. Bassett was not, however good she was otherwise.

“You do needlework?” The inquiry followed the sighting of the workbasket with a telltale piece of needlepoint draped over the side.

“One of the upstairs chairs requires a new covering. I decided to replace it.”

“There is no need to look at me for a sign of approval for what you plan. This house may have once been mine, but I have not lived here for many, many years.”

“We were surprised to see you come,” Juliet admitted. “Mrs. Tackley said as how you rarely leave London.”

“I thought it advisable to see you before
...
” Her ladyship paused, sinking into a deep reverie. “Play for me. I would hear how well you do at the harp. It once offered me a great deal of consolation.”

Thinking it was an odd way to phrase it, Juliet obeyed. Still, she had often found comfort in her music, and perhaps that is what her ladyship meant. She sat beside the harp and prepared to play for the most critical audience she’d ever had. “It needed but one string replaced and a good tuning. It is a fine instrument.”

The delicate pieces she performed were well suited to the intimacy of the drawing room and a small audience. The dowager listened attentively; Juliet didn’t know whether to be pleased or terrified.

She was in the middle of a Bachofen arrangement of one of Mozart’s sonatas when the men entered the drawing room. Alexander immediately went to the pianoforte to join her in the music.

He played well, and she knew she excelled previous efforts. There was something about a critical listener that either brought out the best in one or routed one completely.

The dowager applauded with what seemed like pleasure when they finished. Juliet eased the harp away, then rose to ring for Mrs. Bassett and tea.

“I approve of your wife, Alexander. When Caroline Tackley wrote to tell me you were in residence with a charming young wife, I did not wish to believe it at first. Then I realized that you were being a dutiful grandson and doing what I have urged you to do for many years. At last—a granddaughter of whom I may be proud.”

“Thank you, Grandmother.”

“Caroline also wrote that Juliet lived here for a few months before you joined her. May I ask why?”

“No, I think not. That is private between Juliet and myself.” Alexander gave his elderly relative a nice smile, but it was evident he was not going to tell her a thing unless he wanted to; she’d not bully him.

Juliet slowly expelled the breath she was unaware she had been holding. She was quite certain she had gone from a rosy pink to a parchment white within the span of seconds. Had her ladyship been in a position to observe, she might have wondered at that, especially the parchment hue.

“Humph,” the dowager said before rising from the sofa. “Ask one of the maids to bring my tea to my room. I believe I shall retire now. I cannot stay up so late as I once did.”

They all rose respectfully while the erect, quite magnificent old lady, her rose sarcenet gown swirling gracefully about her, left the room. The faint tap of her shoes on the stairs was followed by silence.

“I say,” Marius said with a frown, “your grandmother is most unusual.”

“That she is,” Alexander said while he crossed the room to Juliet’s side. “I see no damage. You appear to have survived in one piece.”

“I think I will leave you gentlemen to a game of billiards or whatever you please. I intend to write out those dinner invitations at once. Sixteen for dinner. Can we manage?” she whispered to Alexander when he walked with her through to the entryway and the bottom of the stairs.

“After this evening I am convinced you could handle anything.” He paused, then added, “In fact, I meant to tell you before—after your ball I knew you could handle an affair in London with no trouble at all. A dinner in Woodbury should be child’s play.”

“But your grandmother is here, Alexander,” Juliet said without acknowledging his compliment. “You managed to avoid one question. There are others lurking that could prove most uncomfortable for us.”

“Precisely what
did
she ask you?” Alexander said with a sharply perceptive look at Juliet’s pale face.

She shot a cautioning look at the men, who now sauntered from the drawing room, intent upon enjoying a game of billiards.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” Alexander said to them, his hand on Juliet’s arm, showing his intent of going upstairs with her.

Harry Riggs grinned, Marius raised a brow, while Lord Taunton merely looked blank.

Once inside her bedroom, Alexander leaned against the door and fixed Juliet with a determined gaze. “What all did she say to you, ask you?”

“I told her I should like to have a dinner for her while she is here, and she inquired about the guests. She asked if I liked living here, about my upbringing, did I like children
...
” Juliet paused in her recital, turning away from Alexander so he could not see her face in the dim light.

“That is not all, I suspect. What else did my dear dragon want to know?”

“She asked if I love you,” Juliet finished in a small voice. “Of course I told her I did,” she continued in a rush. “After all, we are supposed to be a happy newly married couple.”

Alexander sighed and pushed away from the door, crossing to enfold Juliet in a comforting embrace. “We will muddle through her visit somehow. Here you thought we were free of company.”

“Not quite,” she said in a muffled voice, her face buried against his waistcoat. She looked up at him and grinned. “We have Marius and Taunton, not to mention Harry Riggs. It is like a hotel, I think.”

“I had best join them for billiards. You intend to write the invitations this evening?” He opened the door, prepared to leave.

“Indeed. I had not contemplated a dinner for sixteen so soon after having had a ball. Whoever said it was deadly quiet living in the country ought to come here for a bit.”

“You will cope splendidly, I know. Do not be too late at it.” He closed the door behind him, and Juliet was alone.

She glanced across her room as she went to the charming little desk that must have been the dowager’s. The bed stood there in muted elegance. Never once did Alexander give it a look. That night of the storm, both storms, might not have happened. He had held her close, read poetry to her, comforted her, and what now? He treated her much as an old, comfortable shoe that has been around for ages.

It was a pity she could not ask the dowager for advice; she would likely have a great deal to offer.

* * * *

The following morning Juliet sent off the invitations first thing. The groom, dressed in the splendid gold and black Hawkswood livery, would cause a stir in Woodbury. If
her ladyship would bring servants, Juliet figured it could not hurt to make use of them.

Then she set to work in conference with Mrs. Bassett and Cook, concocting a menu to please the dowager as well as the local guests—who most likely did not care for rich sauces either.

It would be Cook’s wonderful mushroom soup again, followed by trout—if Harry and Marius could manage to catch enough for dinner—with a delicious chicken dish Cook knew how to prepare. Various side dishes and removes were settled on with satisfaction all around.

“Thank goodness his lordship engaged those two maids and that footman,” Mrs. Bassett said with a sigh. “Would Randall act as butler again?”

“I fancy that if Lord Hawkswood requests it, he will.”

Later, Alexander found her in her room seated before the little desk with a pile of acceptances to peruse.

“All coming?” he inquired while lazily leaning against the connecting door frame.

“Need you ask? But of course. Speculation is high as to what her ladyship is doing here. Most seem to think she has come to inspect me as it were.”

“Juliet, about our marriage,” Alexander began. “We need to talk. It’s no good going on as we are now.”

She jumped up from the writing desk to hurry to the door leading to the hall. “No time for something so detailed now. I have a million things to do.”

“You are avoiding what must be discussed,” he said dryly. “So be it. But one day soon we
must
talk. It cannot be avoided!”

* * * *

His words lingered in her mind as she went about her many duties the next two days. The dowager seemed content to let Juliet handle everything. Rather, she strolled in the garden, commenting acidly on the plants growing there.