The Roguish Miss Penn (10 page)

The room was silent. Lord Ramsey took a step forward, his hand reaching out to his sister.

Katherine drew close to Cousin Sophia. Mrs. Bonner stood with her mouth unattractively open, while Amelia glanced at Lord Ramsey, as though trying to gauge what her own reaction ought to be.

Mr. Penn stood very still.

Mrs. Cheney suddenly took note of the shocked faces around her. She uttered a muffled cry behind a hand that flew to cover her mouth, and ran from the room, her skirts whirling about her legs as she hurried toward the staircase.

“I do beg your pardon on behalf of my sister, Mr. Penn. She has not been herself for some time.” Lord Ramsey looked torn between attending to his guests and following his upset sister.

As much as Katherine agreed with Mrs. Cheney, she felt it necessary to support her father. “Perhaps we best leave.”

“Tomorrow?” Lord Ramsey sent an appealing glance to Katherine, who evaded his look. She had not quite forgiven him the fuss he had made over Melly the other day, nor the interfering manner he had adopted toward her and her play, and this still illogically added to her sense of injustice.

“Perhaps,” she replied coolly. “Thank you for the kind invitation, Lord Ramsey.”

The subdued party walked down the front steps to where the carriage shortly drew up before them. Lord Ramsey had seen to it they were conveyed home in style, and for that Katherine repented of her sour thoughts.

“Well,” blurted out Melly once they sat in the carriage, “I must say I think that was ill-done.”

“Mrs. Cheney was upset, Amelia,” Cousin Sophia said in a soothing voice.

“Unforgivable,” Mrs. Bonner declared in an aggrieved tone.

“I trust we shall not hear a word of this about town, Martha,” Cousin Sophia said in a voice that brooked no denial. “I would hate to nose it about that you dye that pretty hair of yours.”

“But I do never,” declared the shocked Mrs. Bonner.

“I know that,” replied Cousin Sophia complacently. “But think what a good bit of gossip it would make.”

“Well!” Mrs. Bonner subsided into silence.

From Mr. Penn not a word was heard. Katherine suspected he remained unaware of the softly spoken words within the carriage between his cousin and the greatest gossip in town.

It must have been a terrible blow to her father to hear what was after all the truth as most of the world would see it. Katherine placed a comforting hand on his sleeve, and gave him an encouraging smile. He merely stared at her as though he didn’t know her.

Katherine took a deep breath and wondered what the days to follow would bring. Dare she even think of the play? She pushed Lord Ramsey from her mind for the moment.

Chapter 6

A storm had moved in during the night and the day was a dreary, wet one, fit for Gabriel and the ducks.

Katherine shook off her hooded cloak and handed it and her exceedingly wet umbrella to the Fairfax butler before following him through the hall to the saloon. She had not intended to come here today. In the early hours of the morning she had recalled the words and manner used by Lord Ramsey, and her anger had returned fourfold. His attitude and distrust rankled. Only the note from Mrs. Cheney, pleading to see her, persuaded Katherine to change her mind.

She paused just inside the saloon, studying the figure at the window pensively staring out toward the Gothic Tower. A hasty check of the room brought the happy information that Lord Ramsey was nowhere to be seen. “Gisela?” She could hear the tension in her own voice and wondered if Mrs. Cheney could as well.

Mrs. Cheney whirled about, then rapidly glided toward Katherine, her hands outstretched. “What a wretched creature I am. Can you ever forgive me for what I said yesterday? Or can your father? I expect he will never wish to see my face again.” Her fervent declaration stirred Katherine to compassion. The high degree of Gisela’s distress readily evidenced itself in her failure to observe Katherine’s damp, sorry condition.

Tears glistened in Mrs. Cheney’s eyes, her expression truly one of repentance as she searched Katherine’s face. “Come, we shall have a cup of tea and I will try to explain, for I owe you that much, I believe.”

“Please, I . . .”  Katherine tried in vain to protest, very torn. She wondered whether she actually wished to know what was on the older woman’s mind. Katherine smoothed down her dark green kerseymere and seated herself as close to the fire as possible, having been chilled to the bone during her drive.

“I insist, my dear,” Mrs. Cheney replied in the nicest possible way while plumping herself onto the sofa.

The tray must have been requested in advance, for within minutes of her tug of the bellpull, the butler entering bearing all that was necessary for a completely delicious tea.

Watching as Mrs. Cheney went through the motions of pouring, adding lemon slices, offering biscuits, Katherine wondered, her curiosity greatly stirred. She had searched her brain last night for a possible clue to such outrageous, quite unladylike behavior. Nothing had come to mind.

On the trip home her father had withdrawn from her and Cousin Sophia, which Katherine supposed was not surprising. It had been a devastating attack on what was closest to his heart: his intellectual abilities and public image. Once home, Katherine and Cousin Sophia had promptly entered the house. Julian Penn had turned from them and the comforting words they might have offered, and stalked away. Presumably he had gone to the common room at Trinity to console himself with a glass of port and conversation with one of his cronies. Katherine did not hear him return home before she drifted off to an uneasy sleep.

By morning’s light she had found no intelligent explanation forthcoming, which meant that whatever it was had more to do with irrational emotional feelings than with logic.

When the note from Fairfax Hall had come, her first reaction had been negative. Only a second reading had persuaded her to accept, a behavior endorsed by Cousin Sophia, who wanted Katherine to get to the bottom of the unusual behavior.

Now Katherine wondered.

At last the moment arrived. Mrs. Cheney sat, her face troubled as she stirred her cup of tea, the spoon gently clinking against the china cup. Beyond the room, the rain fell in a mizzle, the tower now a ghostly ruin in the distance. The butler had stirred the fire before he departed, sending showers of sparks dancing up the chimney and heat into the room. Katherine inched closer to its drying warmth.

“You see,” Mrs. Cheney began, “I had come to admire your father very much over the days he had been coming here. He has a wonderful mind, such depth of knowledge. Whenever I visited with him, I felt I spoke with a man of truly great dimensions. I fear I began to place him on a pedestal.” She bowed her head for a few moments, took a sip of what must by now be rather cool tea, then continued.

“The day that silly little girl was here, I fled to where he worked in the library whenever I could. I suspect it was as much to be with him as to escape her inanities. She is a shocking peagoose, is she not?”

When Katherine allowed a small smile to escape at this truism, Mrs. Cheney breathed a sigh, then again forged ahead with her explanation.

Katherine shivered and wished she had brought a shawl with her. She had not precisely gotten soaked, but rather damp and chilled, on her drive to the hall. A draft curled through the room, and Katherine stifled a longing to sneeze.

“So, when we attended divine services Sunday, I waited in high expectations. I felt your father would be so different from my husband. For my husband was ever one to prose, and always spoke as though he were preaching from Olympus to lesser mortals below. Not that he expected us to understand him, mind you. It seemed to me that he desired to proclaim himself superior in his use of speech, to set himself apart and make the rest of the world conscious of his superior mental accomplishments. Do you know that he forbade me the use of my title? No Lady Gisela Cheney in his household, if you please. It upset my brother very much, I fear. Nor were our parents happy. You know the earl and his countess spend the winter in Italy?” she said in a moment’s digression.

She fell silent a moment, first looking into the flames, then back at Katherine. “I felt betrayed when I heard your father speak. I had anticipated so much more, you see. And there he stood, talking down to us poor souls just as my dead husband was wont to do. I fear I lost my sense of reason for a brief time. What I said to Mr. Penn was unforgivable, I know. But I wonder, do you think he might find it in his heart to . . .”

The remainder of her sentence was lost as Katherine at last gave in to her body and sneezed, not once, but several times. Fortunately she had managed to locate her handkerchief first. She glanced at Mrs. Cheney with a look of apology. “So sorry.”

“My dear, you are shivering,” Mrs. Cheney exclaimed.  “How thoughtless of me.” She put her cup and saucer on the tray, then jumped up to place a hand on Katherine’s arm. “You must be chilled through. I shall never forgive myself if you take ill.” She thought a moment, then laughed, a shaky little laugh, to be sure. “I believe the best remedy is a warm bath. Poor girl, you seem ever in the need for hot water when you visit us.”

At that Katherine chuckled, recalling quite vividly the first day she had met Mrs. Cheney and Lord Ramsey. He was not in evidence today. Since the weather was far too inclement to be out and about with tenants and the like, Katherine could only believe he wished privacy for his sister and her confession. Whatever the reason, she assured herself she was grateful not to confront him.

“Come. The water ought to be yet quite warm and it will take but minutes to add hot to it. The sooner, the better. I shall place some herbs in it as well. Nothing like a bit of lavender and chamomile to soothe the body and take away the aches.”

Needing no urging to engage in a delightful bath once again, Katherine shamelessly permitted herself to be led up the back stairs to the plunge bath. She sneezed several times on the way, causing Mrs. Cheney to hurry her along until they were nearly at a run.

Once in the bathroom, Mrs. Cheney saw to the addition of the hot water herself, then left the room to locate the required herbs.

Katherine watched the flow of steaming water into the tile-lined bath, marveling that water could not only be piped into the house, but heated first as well. It truly was a modern miracle.

By the time Mrs. Cheney returned, the water had reached the desired temperature. “For,” she explained, “we do not wish you to become a boiled lobster, merely warm.” She poured the fragrant oils into the water, gestured to the neat pile of towels, then left.

Feeling quite decadent, Katherine stripped her damp clothes off, then eased into the water. A light tap on the door preceded a young maid, who whisked the garments from the room while discreetly avoiding a glance at the woman in the bath.

It proved far better than her first experience. This time, Katherine genuinely needed the healing heat. The aroma of the herbs seemed to ease that desire to sneeze, and she felt her chest clearing of the tightness that had threatened.

Since there seemed no need to rush, for Cousin Sophia expected her to remain some time and Katherine doubted if either Mrs. Cheney or Lord Ramsey would mind should she take her time about the bath, Katherine luxuriated to her heart’s content. She vowed if she ever became rich—a most unlikely occurrence, she admitted—she would build such a bath and enter it every day.

It was not until she observed her skin beginning to puff and wrinkle that she reluctantly decided she had best get out. Steam had brought additional warmth to the room, and Katherine felt no chill at first. When she looked about for her clothes, she realized that in order to dress she must return to the adjacent room, where a cozy fire burned to further warm her. Such comforts were only to be envied.

Wrapping the largest of the towels about her, reveling in the softness of the Turkish pile, she slipped from the bathroom to find her clothes awaiting her neatly draped over a chair near the fire.

After briskly rubbing herself dry, she was about to set aside her towel to don her stays when she heard the rattle of the doorknob. Katherine hastily wrapped the towel about her, although she expected it was merely Mrs. Cheney coming to check on her.

Rather, Lord Ramsey began to enter the room. He paused in the act of removing his coat, a near-comical expression of dismay on his face as he discovered the room to be occupied. “Excuse me. I had not realized there was someone here.” He adjusted his coat, backing from the room as he spoke. “The pond again? I hope Hector was not responsible.” The dog had not been in evidence of late.

“The rain, sir.” She sneezed, less violently this time.

A frantic clutch at her towel kept her almost decent. However, she did not miss the warm gleam in Lord Ramsey’s eyes as he surveyed her lightly covered self before discreetly closing the door behind him.

Drat the man! How odious of him to come here just when she reached for her stays. She crossed to check the door and found no lock, explaining Lord Ramsey’s entrance.

What he might think of her now was beyond Katherine to imagine. Would he view her with distaste? The very thought prompted her to rush into her stays, demure shift, neat petticoat, practical hose, and respectable kerseymere gown. All were dry and warm and contributed to a feeling of well-being. This was marred by the irrational anger she felt toward his lordship. Now he would be convinced she was no better than she should be. Life simply was not just. She paused before she made to return downstairs. Would this cause him to refuse his support of the production?

When she joined Mrs. Cheney in the saloon, a fragrant herbal tisane steamed away in a pot. The brother and sister were quietly chatting while seated on the sofa before the fire. They rose as Katherine entered the room. Although ostensibly gliding forward to greet Gisela, Katherine was very aware of the man who so angered and intrigued her.

“Katherine, my dear, I trust you feel more the thing? I had Cook prepare an herbal drink for you. I believe you will be the better for it. And I persuaded Philip to join us. Even time in the steward’s room can become tedious. Records, you know.” She smiled warmly at her brother, thus missing the guarded look on Katherine’s face.