Miss Ryder's Memoirs (8 page)

I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew it was late in the morning, with the sun streaming through my window. Late, in our household, is about ten o’clock. I would have missed breakfast entirely, except that Mama was forced to leave the food out longer on account of Cousin Bret never appearing before that hour. Which meant that I would be forced to share my meal with him. If I hadn’t been so hungry, I would have skipped my breakfast entirely.

Sure enough, he was seated there in all his sartorial splendor. He had never understood the concept of dressing informally in the country. My cousin rose graciously to his feet and regarded me with a sardonic curl of his fleshy lips. “You’re a trifle late this morning, aren’t you, cousin?”

I allowed him to hold my chair for me. “No later than you."

“I suppose the rest of them have already eaten and gone about their business. I had hoped to catch a glimpse of Cousin Amanda this morning. I thought she looked peaked at dinner last night.”

“I assure you she is quite in bloom. You needn’t concern yourself with her health.”

“I always concern myself with her health. She’s a delicate young woman."

“Balderdash! She’s no more delicate than I.” When I could see that he meant to retort, I forestalled him by saying, “Her robustness is apparent to everyone but you, Cousin Bret. You are determined upon her delicacy only because she doesn’t like horses and refuses to ride them now that her precious Daisy has been turned out to grass.”

“She should bring herself to be more comfortable with horses,” he said.

This from the man who thought he was a genius with horses. Who thought he could control Robert’s horse, Thunder. Once when Cousin Bret dismounted—he told us he dismounted, but I have a grave suspicion that he was actually thrown—Thunder took off for the stable and Cousin Bret was left to walk the five miles home.

He had continued to make his pronouncements on Amanda’s peculiar habits regarding horses. “It’s strange, with all the rest of you absolutely mad for them, that she has taken this aversion. No doubt it is an affectation that will disappear under the blandishments of one dear to her.”

I snorted at this obviously ludicrous suggestion. “She isn’t going to change her mind about horses.”

“But she drove out with Sir John yesterday.”

“More of a tribute to Sir John than a change of heart.”

Cousin Bret eyed me reproachfully. “You’re quite mistaken. Sir John is not the sort of man who would appeal to your sister. Cousin Amanda needs someone with stability of character and definition of purpose.”

I refused to discuss the matter further with him. He’s as stubborn as a man comes, and he was welcome to believe what he wished, so long as it didn’t interfere with my plans. “Where have you been the last few evenings?” I inquired, to change the subject and because I was curious.

His countenance changed abruptly. “Nowhere special. I’ve gone into Cambridge to visit friends. The Mortons. A superior couple whom I’ve known since the days I spent in London. Most intelligent and worthy. They would be an excellent addition to your acquaintance, Cousin Catherine. Their example would be a good influence."

“I do hate being insulted at breakfast,” I informed him as I buttered a roll.

“No insult was intended, I assure you. It is a matter of polish. Mrs. Morton could advise you how to go on, as she has spent considerable time in London among the
ton.
As I recall, your Season in London was something of a disaster.” I frowned, but he ignored me, patting his full lips with a linen napkin. “Your sister would have made more use of a Season to acquire the necessary town bronze. She’s so amenable to instruction.”

Which I am not, of course. I could scarcely bear to remain in the same room with him. But there was something he’d said that nagged at me. Not all the stupid talk of polish, but about the Mortons. Could he possibly have visited them two nights in a row? Most unlikely. And hadn’t Jed said something about Thunder being taken out only one evening?

“Where do the Mortons live?” I asked.

“On Trumpington Street.”

“Did they have some special entertainment, to draw you there two nights in a row?”

He had been chewing on a sausage but his eyes swung alertly to me. “What’s that you’re asking? Two nights in a row?”

“Isn’t that what you meant? That you had been there both last night and the night before?”

For a fraction of a second he hesitated, and then he speared another bite with his fork. “Yes, I was there both nights. We began discussing a new book David had received, and wished to continue our talk, with some reading
en famille,
on the following evening.”

“I see.” Nothing in his expression encouraged me to believe him. From the time he was a small boy it has been easy enough to tell when my cousin was lying, though he never once would admit it. Lying was actually one of his few endearing qualities, I always thought. I mean, at least it indicated a little imagination. Otherwise, one would have been forced to conclude that he possessed none at all.

Unfortunately, Cousin Bret usually lied to keep himself out of trouble. I couldn’t fathom his reasons for doing it now, but I had every intention of finding them out.

Chapter 6

My sister spent most of her spare moments with Sir John, but her spare moments weren’t as many as she might have liked. I insisted that she not neglect her standard duties, such as arranging meals with Mrs. Cooper, and overseeing the mending of the linens, and cutting the flowers for the table, and making sure that the underhousemaids used the proper mixture of soap lees, turpentine, and pipe-clay to clean the marble.

Oh, we neither of us were such ladies of leisure as some city folk might imagine. Mama insisted that we learn every fine point of being in charge of a domestic staff and running a large, and possibly not wholly rich, household. Why, when we were younger, she even saw to it that we learned to make cheeses and hang the meats to cure.

Amanda was embarrassed by this sort of task. She was much more comfortable with an embroidery needle than a curd breaker. Not for the world would she have had Sir John see her go into the dairy. I had no such qualms. Coming on the said gentleman the next afternoon, and perhaps a bit disoriented by my memories of our last encounter, I chided him for walking into the house in muddy boots.

“Now where did you learn such despicable habits, Sir John?” I demanded. “Surely your mama would not have appreciated your dirt any more than we do. Amanda will have to see that the housemaid takes special care with this floor now. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Amanda got down on her hands and knees and did it herself, just to make sure there’s not a trace left by the next time you pass this way.”

Unfortunately, Amanda was just at that moment coming through the door from the kitchen, where she had undoubtedly been discharging some onerous duty, and she was furious with me. The color rose attractively in her cheeks and her eyes flashed with indignation. “Catherine! How can you let your tongue run away with such lies? You may be sure that Mama will hear of this.”

Turning to Sir John, she hurriedly added, “You must not heed a word she says. Of course you shall come into the hall in muddy boots if you wish. What on earth do we have housemaids for if not to clean up after us?”

Sir John looked down at his boots for the first time and seemed chagrined to find that they were, indeed, quite muddy. Though how they could have gotten that way, on this sunny day, I was at a loss to imagine. “I heartily apologize,” he said, offering his most charming smile to Amanda. “If I had known my boots were muddy, I would have left them outside the back door.” He made a move to remove them right then and there, but Amanda fluttered an agitated hand at him and begged him—yes, begged him—not to put himself to so much trouble.

"For I’m sure the worst of it is off now, and you won’t leave a trail on your way to your room.” She nervously pleated a handkerchief between her long, plump fingers.

“Or we might walk out in the garden until your boots dry, if you wished to come with me, and if your boots are not unbearably uncomfortable,” I suggested with just a note of sarcasm in my voice.

Sir John raised a quizzical brow. “Perhaps Miss Amanda would accompany me. We wouldn’t think of keeping you from your own duties,” he added, smooth as glass. “I daresay you have the stables as your special province?”

He meant this as a set-down to me, but I’m proud of my supervision of the stables. His own horses were served well there, as even his groom would tell him. “The stables are indeed under my direction while my brother is away, Sir John. Which reminds me. Isn’t it time for you to visit Hinchly Farms to see what they have to offer in the way of carriage horses? I could make myself available to go with you tomorrow. You’ll need me to introduce you to old Hinchly. He’s not the least bit tolerant of strangers. Perhaps Robert mentioned that to you?”

Rather than answer me, Sir John cast a questioning look at my sister. She shrugged and nodded. Not even Amanda could deny that it would be useful for him to have me along when he went to Hinchly Farms. “Very well.” There was an absence of enthusiasm in his voice, which made me wonder if I’d imagined last night. “We’ll go tomorrow. Early, if you please. So that we can be home in time for our midday meal.”

No picnic for me! Well, he might be just the tiniest bit surprised by how I meant to handle the matter. Though I could see no reason to tell him in advance of my plans. “Early it is," I agreed cheerfully. “I can be ready by nine.”

For a moment I thought he would quibble, but he made a fatalistic gesture. And grinned ruefully at my sister, so much as to say, “I don’t wish to be away from you for a minute, but I will accommodate Miss Ryder if I must.”

I felt there was no chance he would wander around that night, because he had to be up at a reasonable hour. He would want to breakfast and perhaps take his mount out for a quick ride before we left. It may have been lax of me, but I allowed myself a good night’s sleep, something that was becoming a bit of a rarity for me since he’d arrived. It would do my complexion a world of good.

We met in the breakfast room, where he was eating a meal that would have done a starving man proud. Though he rose and waited for me to seat myself, I cannot say that he looked overpleased about our venture.

Sir John surprised me by saying, “Tell me about your cousin, Bretford Cummings. Why is it he doesn’t stay in to enjoy the family’s company most nights? It seems a trifle rude.”

“Cousin Bret considers himself so much a member of our family that he prides himself on his ease in coming and going. Which is not the same as running tame here, you understand. He feels that he belongs here to the extent that he should be regarded with the same indulgence as my brother.”

“Does he, now?” Sir John pursed his lips in something like annoyance. “What gives him that kind of privilege? Is he interested in marrying one of you?”

This was blunt talking. But I could be just as blunt. “He thinks to marry Amanda, but he is wide of the mark.” Even I would not undercut Amanda by pretending that she liked Cousin Bret. No man of intelligence would believe something so ludicrous. “Amanda thinks he’s a great coxcomb and a dead bore. In fact, we can’t think why he comes to visit at all. When he was a child it was a matter of family honor with my father to have him visit, as it gave the cousins a chance to know one another. But it has been many years since anyone on this side has gotten any pleasure from the contact.”

He ate another roll and an egg before continuing his observations. “He seems to have something of a penchant for riding off on one of your horses. Thunder, I believe his name is. Yet the stable lads are convinced he’s not a good enough rider to manage the beast.”

I sighed. “I suppose I could ban him from Thunder. He’s going to ruin the horse’s mouth, if he doesn’t get himself thrown and killed. Robert was wonderful on Thunder, but he’s not an easy horse to ride.”

“Don’t you ride him, then?” Sir John asked, amused. “I thought you were the expert on horses.”

“I don’t ride horses I cannot manage. You don’t have to kill yourself to be able to judge the quality of an animal, you know.”

“Yes, I do know. I’m surprised you do.” He eyed me with a bit more respect. But he didn’t say anything except, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go out to the stables and see that the curricle is made ready. Why don’t you join me there?”

Which was all to the good, because I had every intention of picking up the picnic basket in the kitchen and hauling it out there myself, before he could object. He couldn’t easily refuse in front of the servants.

Mrs. Cooper had been delighted to be of service to me. When I came to fetch the basket, she lifted the cloth and pointed to a good bottle of wine. “Sir John is obviously a connoisseur. I won’t try to pass off the everyday wine with him, but don’t you go swilling the stuff down like it was lemonade, my girl. This is as powerful as it comes, and you’d do well to cultivate your palate by sipping it slowly and learning just how good it is.”

Mrs. Cooper has always been good at giving me reasons for doing things she wanted me to do. I think she picked the habit up from my mother, who always knew how to deal with me. My father was forever laying down laws that I chose to ignore because they seemed to have little rhyme or reason. Mrs. Cooper’s suggestion that I develop my palate seemed eminently sensible. Mama hadn’t the least interest in spirits, except the kind that talked to her. Mrs. Cooper added a corkscrew and a stock of horseradish to the basket before I left.

In the stableyard I found Sir John talking with Jed as the boy adjusted the neck collar on one of the chestnuts. When the baronet looked up and saw me with my basket, a dark scowl descended on his brow. “Hinchly Farms is farther away than Overview,” I explained. “We’ll need sustenance before we head back, and I know just the spot where we can stop.”

“I was under the illusion we planned to return here for luncheon,” he muttered as he took the basket from my hands.

“We can’t expect Hinchly to offer us so much as a sip of water, and checking out carriage horses is thirsty work. Mrs. Cooper put in a good bottle of wine.”