Miss Cresswell's London Triumph (2 page)

As time went by, some of the Cresswell exuberance rubbed off on Ned and he became more relaxed and ready to enter into new things. He, in turn, with his greater foresight and more levelheaded approach to life, kept the twins from falling into scrapes so disastrous that adult assistance was required to extricate them. They greatly appreciated this freedom from embarrassment and rewarded their new companion with their respect and occasional requests for advice.

But those busy happy days, for Cassie at any rate, had vanished with the boys. She and Lord Mainwaring had ridden with them up to London, where they had made some final purchases at S. Unwin's General Equipment Warehouse in Lombard Street before stowing their belongings on the ship that was to take them to Bombay. The captain was an acquaintance of Lord Mainwaring's, and Cassie had been glad to think that Freddie and Ned would have at least one friend on the long voyage. She had watched and waved as they sailed with the tide and then returned home, feeling lonelier than she ever had in her entire life. Freddie had always been more than a mere brother. He had been her constant companion, while Ned was the one person in the whole word who truly understood and appreciated her. It was true that Lady Frances encouraged Cassie's studies and her brother-in-law discussed them with her. Both of them included her as an equal in their conversations, but no one took the place of Ned, who teased her and delighted in challenging her ideas and stimulating her mind.

At least she had the mail, but it was slow and unpredictable. It could take ages for her replies to her letters to arrive—letters she had filled with thoughts on her reading, reflections on life in general, and questions about his experiences—but she reveled in his responses when they did come. His style, so very like him, made Ned seem present at the moment she was reading his letter. His reflections and comments, fashioned as they were to address her particular interests and tastes, made what could have been a mere traveler's description spring to life before her eyes. Thus, even though she sorely missed his companionship, she continued to feel the strength of his friendship. He had never mentioned Arabella again, but Cassie knew his sensitive retiring nature too well to think that she had been forgotten. For her part, Cassie had found it extraordinarily difficult even to exchange the politest of commonplaces with Arabella and was quite relieved when the girl had quit the neighborhood for what had been a predictably brilliant Season. Of course she had been hailed as an incomparable. How could anyone so devoted to herself and her toilette have become anything less than a diamond, Cassie had reflected cynically.

A belle who had enjoyed such success could not be expected to leave the scene of such triumph to bury herself in Hampshire, and many of those attending assemblies around Cresswell and Camberly that summer bemoaned the loss of their brightest star. Cassie, however, found such events to be much more enjoyable without Arabella's disturbing presence—a presence that seemed to have fostered nothing but dissension and jealousy as much among her envious female competitors as among vain young men.

Having seen what misery beauty, unaccompanied by heart or wit and bent solely on pursuit of its own pleasure, could cause, Cassie was not inclined to want a come-out of her own, but here she was having some difficulty. Her ordinarily levelheaded and sympathetic sister, who had suffered one miserable Season herself, was adamant that Cassie at least experience the world of the ton before condemning it out of hand.

"But Fanny," Cassie had wailed, "how can you, of all people, insist that I waste my time in society when you were so unhappy there yourself? You thought most of those routs and balls excessively silly. And I daresay that I am less inclined to society than you."

"Yes, love. You are entirely in the right of it. I was desperately unhappy, but that was my first Season when I was under the aegis of Lady Bingley, who was as feather-headed a female as you could hope to meet. Directly on bringing me to a gathering she would retire to the card room, leaving me to gaze around the room and wish intensely that I could become part of the nearest pillar or bank of flowers. But when I helped Lady Streatham chaperon Kitty, it was altogether different. Lady Streatham's acquaintances were not the empty-headed dowagers that comprised Lady Bingley's coterie; she made every effort to put me as well as Kitty forward and make us feel comfortable. And then the Comte de Vaudron made me see that dressing beautifully and fashionably could be as much an exercise of one's aesthetic sense and taste as any other sort of creative expression and it need not be merely empty competition to see whose dressmaker can make one resemble the most stunning fashion plate in La Belle Assemblee. Besides, Julian and
his friends are in the ton and they certainly discuss more serious subjects than the cut of their coats or their own favored ways of tying a cravat."

Cassie recognized the truth of this, but while she admitted that Lady Frances Mainwaring and Lady Elizabeth Streatham had found men who could carry more than one thought in their heads at a time, she remained skeptical about the possibility that there were enough such people to make a trip to London worthwhile, especially since two of the few intelligent men were at present on the high seas heading home.

It was the Comte de Vaudron who saved the Season for Cassie as he had once saved it for her elder sister, though not in quite the same way. Cassie was again sitting in the library when the post arrived, but this time it was Frances who came rushing in waving a letter, which unlike the others, was on heavy cream paper and addressed in an elegant flowing script. "It's from the Comte de Vaudron," Frances announced, her eyes sparkling. "And he proposes a scheme that you are certain to like above all things. You know he is cataloging the marbles he and Papa helped Lord Elgin bring back from Greece. Having worked this age on them, he is beginning to realize what an enormous task it is and is feeling a bit overawed at the extent left unfinished. He is hoping that you will be able to help him, or at least act as his amanuensis when we arrive in Town. I rather think this should prove to be just the thing, don't you? Good heavens, the time! I promised Lady Taylor I would meet her at the church to arrange the flowers on the altar. I must dash." And Frances hurried off, leaving her sister to her thoughts. The idea of quitting the freshness, the quiet, and the freedom of the countryside for the frenzied, noisy pace and structured existence of London was detestable to someone whose neighbors had long ago ceased to comment on her long solitary walks with Wellington or her mad dashes across the fields on a horse that everyone from Squire Tilden to Sir Lucius Taylor had declared to be a "mount far too restive and totally unsuitable for a lady." Still, the idea of immersing herself in the beautiful artifacts brought back from Athens did have a certain appeal, and besides, she dearly loved the comte.

Never having had the good fortune of his friend Lord Cresswell, who had found a wife to share his enthusiasm, and being totally uninterested in living the stultified, formal life at Versailles required of France's aristocrats, the Comte de Vaudron had led a solitary existence until he had met the Cresswells. Lord and Lady Cresswell had shared their interests as well as their lively young family with him and he had grown inordinately fond of them all during their Grecian sojourn. When the revolution had made it impossible for him to return to his own country, and Napoleon seemed to be consuming all of Europe at an alarming rate, he had come to London and, after their parents' deaths, had once again established himself as a benevolent uncle to Frances, Cassandra, and

Freddie. He had helped Frances enjoy herself during her second Season in London and had assisted her in the creation other own special style, which had made her blossom into a witty and beautiful woman. While he had always been a favorite of the twins, ready at a moment's notice to get up an interesting excursion for their special amusement, he had not figured as prominently in their lives as he had in their sister's. Now it seemed he was turning his attentions toward Cassie's welfare and she looked forward to having him as a support in the ordeal to come—the intense social round demanded by the ton of one of its would-be members.

Her reverie was interrupted by a squelching sound and a brief cough. As she looked around, her gaze encountered three dripping wet and barely recognizable figures in the doorway. Wellington certainly more closely resembled a black Scottish than a white West Highland terrier while the distinctive black stripes of his erstwhile friend and companion. Nelson the Cat, seemed to have merged and spread to cover his white chest and paws. Theodore was distinguished from the other two by being covered in mud only to his waist and he was clutching another lump of mud to his chest, this lump's only distinguished feature being its quack. "We fell in the pond," he explained unnecessarily.

"Arf, arf," Wellington agreed. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. Theodore had proven himself to be a regular Trojan, and sooner than the little dog had dared hope. Today's adventure had been almost as good as any that Freddie and Cassie had tumbled into.

"So I see." As she spoke, Cassie had visions of a series of torn smocks and muddied breeches she and Freddie had presented to Frances in just such a manner.

Cook said she won't have me in her kitchen, tho I came to the you. She said I'm to go thraight to the pump and take that 'dratted dog and cat' with me. I told her they weren't 'dratted' and she got ever tho red in the fathe and took a broom and here we are."

"Yes. Here you are," Cassie agreed, just beginning to understand the fortitude her sister had exhibited all these years in the face of Freddie's and her exploits. No disaster had been too dirty or bloody to upset her. Feeling the weight other elder sister's example, she inquired as calmly and with as much interest as she could infuse into her voice, which now threatened to break into laughter, into the reasons for their condition. The trio, which truly did look disreputable, had now begun to appear somewhat shamefaced.

"Well, it was Ethelred s fault, Theodore explained, twisting one foot nervously on the pattern in the carpet.

"Ethelred?" Cassie inquired blankly.

The grubby quacking lump was extended for her inspection, revealing a bill and two small webbed feet. "Yeth. I named him Ethelred because he was unready jutht like the King Ethelred the Unready that Mama told me about."

This explanation clearly wasn't enough for his aunt, who continued to look puzzled. "Well, you thee, Wellington, Nelthon, and I were playing with my boat on the pond and we truly were being careful not to get wet, when we heard a crack and some peeping and then thith egg fell into the pond right near uth. Only it wathn't a whole egg becauth Ethelred'th head was thicking out. Then Wellington and Nelthon ruthed in and tried to catch it but the waves they made jutht puthed in farther from thore, tho I had to wade in. We got him on thore and he got out of him egg and made thraight for Wellington. There didn't seem to be any duckth around, so I brought him here. Can we keep him, please Aunt Catthie? I think he likes uth." The mingled chorus of quacks, meows and arfs that followed this statement seemed to bear out this assumption.

Cassie smiled. "I expect you'd have a hard time getting rid of Ethelred now, but come along and let's wash all of you and dry you out." She led the trio out of the pump in the stable yard, where, under the watchful eye of John Coachman, they splashed happily until they more nearly resembled their former selves.

"Just like old times, you might say, Miss Cassie," John's weather-beaten face expanded in a warm grin. Like Wellington, he had missed the activity since Freddie had been gone, but being slightly more perceptive than the little terrier, he had worried a great deal that the sparkle had gone out of Miss Cassie when the boys had left. John loved Frances and he was proud of what a fine young man Freddie had become, but Cassie was his true favorite. Ever since she had taken her first spill from a pony at two years old and refused to cry, Cassie had won the critical coachman's heart, though he would have died rather than let on about his devotion. Young Master Theodore is proving to be just the ticket for diverting all of them, he thought, looking at Cassie's animated face and at the animals enthusiastically playing under the pump. Spending his life around them, John had been well aware of Wellington and Nelson's despondency since Freddie's departure. "A good rubdown and youll be right as rain, he announced, handing one towel to Cassie for Theodore and vigorously patting the rest with another. "But you must ask Nurse to get you some dry clothes, Master Theodore," he directed as he gave a final wipe behind Wellington's ears.

"But what thall we do with Ethelred?" Theodore wondered aloud. Ethelred, who had enjoyed the episode at the pump more than anyone, was quacking merrily and swimming in the barrel under the spigot, but as the others showed signs of leaving, he peeped anxiously and hopped out.

"He shall have a bed right next to Wellington's and Nelson's by the stove in the kitchen," Cassie replied. Seeing the mistrustful look on Theodore's face, she added, "Don't worry, Teddy, Cook does get exasperated when they get underfoot, but she loves them dearly and would miss their companionship sorely. Besides, what would she do with her scraps if she didn't have those two to take care of them for her? She knows that Nelson is the best mouser in Hampshire and Wellington won her heart when he caught the rat gnawing its way into her flour bin."

"All right," Theodore sighed, still somewhat anxious about his new pet's acceptance in the bailiwick of such a domestic despot as Cook. "But may I help John make a bed for Ethelred?" he asked.

"Certainly, dear, but you must put on some other clothes first and I shall make sure these three finish drying out." Cassie smiled encouragingly at him as she shepherded the animals toward the kitchen. All were agreeably tired and needed no coaxing to lie quietly in a heap of fur and feathers under the stove while Cassie tried to convince Cook that really one more animal would not disrupt her domain so very much. Cook, who truly did have a soft spot for "her two rascals," demurred briefly before letting herself be won over.