Quiet Meg (7 page)

“Really, Lucy,” Meg protested, with a glance at Amanda’s
pink cheeks.

Lucy tossed her head.

“Mandy knows how I feel about Charles.”

“Let us hope he, at least, does not,” Meg said. “Now
come tell me what he means by these painted stakes.”

For all her infatuation, Lucy had paid less attention to
her chosen one’s methods than Meg found instructive. And
having the two younger girls in the room with her proved to
be trying. As Lucy, holding her tea, moved to lean over
Cabot’s master plan, Meg could no longer restrain herself.

“Do be careful, Lucy! You will spill tea all over his
work!”

“I shan’t! And even if I did it would not matter. He has
another tiny one he calls a `thumbnail’ that he carries
about in his waistcoat pocket. He says it’s his insurance.”

“I can see that he needs it! Can you not imagine the
hours of effort to reproduce this? You would not want Mr.
Cabot to be compelled to repeat it”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Lucy declared archly. But she and
Amanda, mutely munching a biscuit, dutifully stepped back
from the table. “I intend to keep Charles here forever,” she
said boldly.

“Do you?” Meg asked. “The gentleman might object. And so might father and Bertie. You’re much too forward,
Lucy.” The girls made Meg feel prim. And since just last
night she had suffered a similar impulse with regard to Mr.
Cabot, she also felt a hypocrite. She pointed to the sheet
before her.

“Do tell me what this symbol means. ‘Tis for a stake in
the kitchen garden.”

Her little nose held aloft, Lucy returned to the table.

“I don’t recall that. In fact, I have not seen it before,” she
said airily. She glanced only briefly at the plan. “Everyone
has been most insistent about preserving your kitchen garden. I am surprised he would dare”

With a sigh, Meg rolled the plans back up and stored
them to the side of the table.

“It is frustrating,” she said, “not to understand this code.
Would Bertie know?”

Lucy shrugged.

“Charles has explained everything, and father and Bertie
think it is all wonderful and tell him to get on with it. When
he is here he goes out all day and comes in only to supper.
I hardly see him. And when he’s away, he’s gone days at a
time.”

“It is his task, Lucy. ‘Tis why he is here. And Selbourne
does not command all his attention.”

“That should have changed”

Meg had to smile.

“Because you did? I see”

“Oh, I thought you understood! About love.”

Meg glanced at Amanda with embarrassment. But apparently young Miss Burke was privy to all irrepressible
Lucy’s secrets.

“I cannot claim your wisdom, Lucy,” Meg said lightly.
But she excused herself and went to share her own tea with
Bertie and her father, who restored her to some equanimity.

The next morning she headed to the stables at dawn. A
cool breeze blew off the river, setting the fresh new leaves
of the beeches dancing. No crews were working at this
hour. Riding astride in Selbourne’s privacy, Meg raced
Arcturus across the deer park.

They leapt the rill and carefully skirted the earthworks
for the expanded ha-ha. At the first evidence of the path up
to the knoll, Meg slowed the stallion and had him ascend at
a walk. Instead of proceeding directly uphill, they traversed
the slope in a series of wide turns, presumably intended to
ease the climb for her father’s chair. At the top, Meg noted
a roughly square layout of flat stones.

She retraced the path down, then skirted the wooded
base of the knoll to reach the enlarged lake. On its shores
many trees had been planted, the banks reinforced, and the
shrubbery thinned. Much had been accomplished in little
more than a month. Despite the evidence of considerable
activity, the ducks, coots, and other water birds still found
the site congenial, waking noisily in the reeds and osiers at
water’s edge.

Meg urged Arcturus to a quicker pace. As they traced the
edge of the woods bordering the north slope, she glanced
into the dense growth of trees-and spotted a shadow moving parallel to her own.

At once sensing her tension, Arcturus shied and broke
stride. Meg had to struggle to control him. As she did so
she noticed that the other rider was moving toward her,
with growing assurance.

She relied on Arcturus then, giving him his head, assured that very few horses off a track could hope to catch
him. As they plunged ahead and cut diagonally away from
the woods, her heart beat so wildly she could not be certain
whether she heard hooves behind her. As they neared the
stables she slowed and looked back. Nothing and no one
followed. Yet she had been certain the rider had started to
approach.

She was breathing quickly, though Arcturus hardly
seemed exercised. Patting him on the neck she walked him
a while in the lane beyond the stables, then turned him back
to the groom. She said nothing to the lad about the other
rider, but she determined to request the groom’s company
in future.

Chas rushed through his work with plantsmen in Fulham. He made fleeting calls at two properties where work
neared completion. He accomplished in two days what he
would normally have set out to do in twice the time, all so
he could manage a lightning visit to town.

There he spent an impatient morning at his tailor’s, then
moved on to the boot maker’s. He stopped for a shave before finding his cousin at his club.

“Didn’t expect you in town just now, Chas, it being
spring, with the plowin’ and all.” Myles Trent, the Marquis
of Hayden, waved him to a seat. “And I’d heard you’d
promised the best of the season to gouty old Clare. You
need a new coat, by the way.” His Resplendence, fastidious
dresser, prosperous gambler, and acknowledged out-andouter, felt it within his purview, indeed entirely his obligation, to comment on such matters.

“I have just seen to it. And yes, I’m promised to Clare,
but for this summer. I may find myself delaying for a couple of months.”

“Delaying? You?” Hayden’s lazy blue eyes widened.
“What the devil is wrong?”

“I need to ask a favor of you, Hayden”

“Now that is such a rare event I’m tempted to grant your
request without inquirin’. But I s’pose I ought to see if it’s
in me power.”

“I would be truly astounded if it were not. I should like
to be assured of a welcome-at Almack’s.”

Hayden stared at him.

“For some chit, d’you mean?” he asked at last.

“No, for myself.”

His cousin grinned.

“Incroyable! You! Dangling after some milk-and-water
miss! And Almack’s-I might as easily picture an oak in a
hothouse!”

Chas had to smile.

“Shall they admit me, though?”

“Good heavens, Chas. Their little hearts will be aflutter.
They’ll have you trussed up and on the block the moment
you’re through the door! Why submit to it?”

“I’d like to help a friend. Some friends, rather. And it occurred to me that this is the way to set about it.”

“Even more interesting! ‘Tis quite an undertaking.
Would I happen to know the beneficiaries?

“Possibly. Have I mentioned Bertram Lawrence to you?
We were at university together.”

“Bertram Lawrence … Now where have I heard that … ?
Percy Laurens … Lawrence Howell…” As Hayden tilted his famously fair head to the side, Chas forced himself to
relax. Why shouldn’t Myles know the truth of it? His
cousin knew him very well indeed. “‘Tis most familiar.
‘Twill strike me later. And I will see that the ladies are
alerted. You shall face no impediment-I guarantee it. Indeed, I’m like to be trampled, merely deliverin’ notice.
When are you planning this sortie?”

“Not for some weeks. Don’t tax yourself. There is another matter, though. At Almack’s, if my behavior is not
quite-acceptable should you mind very much being barred
from the place for a spell?

Hayden’s grin widened.

“What are you contemplatin’, Chas? I believe I must
brave the place with you. Haven’t pranced about there in
years. Probably please of Grandmere. Why not ask for
her aid with this silliness, by the by? No doubt she has
vouchers papering her walls.”

“I … haven’t been to see her this trip. I just arrived late
last night, and must be off again early tomorrow.”

“Not been to see Grandmere?” Hayden’s gaze assessed
him. “Then you are hiding something, Chas. Must a’ been
afraid she’d wheedle it out of you-or box your ears. Last
time I was by she spent five minutes abusin’ me. Confound
that tongue of hers! And she pinched my ear so hard it’s
smartin’ yet” He rubbed his right ear. “Never thought the
Frenchies were s’posed to be such prudes”

“I appreciate the sacrifice. If she’s after you for your infractions perhaps she will let me be”

“All the same the next time you are in town you must see
her. And I cannot lie to her-if she asks-about your visit
today.”

“I would not ask you to, my lord.” When Hayden smiled,
Chas asked, “What do you hear from David?” Hayden’s
younger brother, Lord David, Major Trent, had served with
Wellington on the Peninsula for five years.

“You’ve had the news from Paris, then?” Hayden’s
glance was sharp. “No doubt Wellington will stay while
they discuss the peace. But David shall have a dilemma. He
complains there’s little to do if he comes home. He’s not
certain he’ll sell up. Father wants him back-wants him to
consider marryin’ the neighbor-Caswell’s chit. Remember the Caswells? Guess you aren’t the only one with marriage on your mind.”

“Don’t start, Myles. ‘Tis always those who jest who
tumble furthest”

“You sound like Grandmere, Chas. ‘Tis the quaintly
Continental in you, I s’pose. At least you don’t shriek it in
French. Do remember to invite me to the wedding.” He was
laughing as Chas left him.

Meg noticed the wagons, loaded with greenery, rolling
up the front lane. She watched them long enough to be certain Cabot did not accompany them, then turned her disappointed attention to helping Lucy pack for town.

Her father had determined they would travel the end of
the following week, a decision that set off a flurry of preparation. The intention to go to London might have been
dropped out of the blue, so frantic and total were the efforts
to speed them on their way. But Meg would preferably have
stayed at Selbourne. She had no interest in the upcoming
season. And there was that small possibility, scarcely admitted, that Cabot would return before the end of the month.

When she raced down to dinner after the second bell,
she was startled to find him being seated at the table.

“Oh, Mr. Cabot,” she breathed, moving to her father’s
right side. “I did not know you had returned.”

“Just this evening, Miss Lawrence”

“You were with the wagons then?”

“They preceded me.”

Her gaze wanted to devour him. Indeed, only a glance at
Lucy, who was looking as Meg felt, recalled her to her
senses.

“Where did you get this lot, Cabot?” Bertie asked.

“Some plantsmen in Fulham. I wanted some good-sized
trees. There is one item I hope will interest Miss Lawrence”

Meg had to look at him, at his direct gaze and gleaming,
candlelit hair. “I brought you a silverbell tree for your garden ”” He sounded pleased.

“Silverbell,” Lucy repeated. “Doesn’t that sound lovely,
Meg?”

“I have not heard of such a tree, Mr. Cabot”

“‘Tis native to North America. Collinson has the Halesia only rarely. This is the sole specimen he will have this
year-a charming little tree, Miss Lawrence, with unusual
bell-like blossoms in early spring. ‘Tis aptly named.”

“Is that what the symbol on your master plan meant then,
for the stake by the teahouse? That you planned a tree?”

“Should you desire it-yes”

“You think my … the garden needs something?”

“It needs nothing,” he said, trapping her gaze. “It wants
nothing. This is merely an ornament.”

“I regret then, that I … do not want it.”

Meg heard her father draw a sharp breath, but he stayed
silent.

Cabot’s lips moved as though he would smile.

“I assure you it will not grow much taller than the garden
walls. And it would give your teahouse some welcome afternoon shade.”

“I know you’ve considered every aspect, Mr. Cabot. But
I do not feel another tree would suit the garden.” She did
not want his gift, which was what this was. She did not
want a unique and thoughtfully appropriate gift from him.
It was best that he know that now.

For a moment his gaze darkened. Then he smiled and
shrugged.

“‘Tis no matter. I shall find a spare little corner at
Brookslea in which to tuck it away. ‘Twill do nicely.”

A spare little corner! He knew how to hurt her as well.

“Honestly, Meggie,” Bertie protested, “balking at a little
tree.”

“Why must you be so mean?” Lucy asked. “It’s not like
you at all!”

Trust Lucy to betray her, Meg thought, catching Cabot’s
considering gaze. She had wanted him to believe there was
nothing unusual in her response.

Her father was studying his dinner plate, with an amusement that Meg could not fathom.

“Would you like me to have the tree, father?” she asked.

“Not at all, my dear. You must do as you wish. Though I
might ask what particular objection you have to an inoffensive twig.”

“It is simply-It is not what I planned.”

“I certainly understand, Sir Eustace,” Cabot said. “One’s
plans can become inviolable.”

Meg looked at Cabot with some impatience. How dare
he defend her!

“Is that what the stakes on the north lawn mean then?
That you plan to plant trees there as well?”

“No.” For a moment he met her challenge with silence.
“I shall be happy to show you what they mean”

She did not want him to show her anything. She wanted
him to leave her in peace.

“Perhaps, Meg,” her father said, “we can take a look at
the plans again after supper-so that there will be no further surprises. After all, Mr. Cabot must be entrusted to decide for us while we are away. We cannot be reduced to
planting and removing the same herbage repeatedly-even
if such activity did line Mr. Cabot’s pockets”