Simply Magic Part 2

aWell, for one of you anyway,a she said. aI cannot seriously imagine Claudia ever marrying, can you? And Anne is so attached to David that I daresay she would be unwilling to risk subjecting him to a stepfather who might mistreat him.a David Jewell was an illegitimate child, Anne never having been married.

aSo I am the one?a Susanna said.

aAnd so you are the one,a Frances said, reaching for both her hands and squeezing them tightly. aYou are so very pretty, Susanna, and so sweet-natured. It seems unfair that fate landed you in a girlsa school at the age of twelve and has kept you there ever since, far from the world of men and potential courts.h.i.+ps.a aIt is not unfair,a Susanna said firmly, pulling her hands free. aExcept perhaps to the hundreds and thousands of other girls who were not so privileged. And you know how much I love the school and all the girls and Claudia and Anne and even Mr. Keeble and the other teachers.a Mr. Keeble was the elderly school porter.

aI do know it,a Frances said with a sigh. aJust as I loved teaching until Lucius forced me to admit how much more I wanted to singa"and how very much more I wanted him. Well, I will say nothing else on the subject. And here comes the tea.a They were quiet while the tray was brought in and set down and while Frances poured the tea and handed Susanna her cup.

aAnd so there is to be an a.s.sembly in the village the week after next,a Frances said. aWe arrived home at the perfect time.a aAn a.s.sembly will be wonderfully exciting,a Susanna said. aEven a little frightening. I have never been to any such thing.a aOh.a Frances looked at her with sudden realization. aOf course you have not. But you have danced at the school forever, Susanna, demonstrating steps for the girls. Now at last you will be able to put your skills to work at a real dance. And you need not be afraid that you will make a cake of yourself and everyone will notice. This is a country a.s.sembly with country people who will go to enjoy themselves, not to observe one another critically. And if that suddenly wary look has anything to do with the fact that Viscount Whitleaf will be there too, you silly goose, I will be wis.h.i.+ng that he were to take himself off back home to Sidley Park before the fateful night. You must not allow yourself to be intimidated by him.a Sidley Park. Susannaas heart sank again at the name. Why did Viscount Whitleaf have to be a friend of Mr. Raycroft? And why did he have to be staying with him at Hareford House now of all times? For so many yearsa"eleven, in facta"there had been no real reminders of her childhood and its abrupt, ghastly ending. She had been able to convince herself that she had forgotten.

aOh,a Frances continued, aand Lucius has bullied the vicar into seeing to it that there will be at least one waltz at the a.s.sembly. Have I ever told you about our first waltz togethera"in a dusty a.s.sembly room above a deserted inn with no one else present, no heat though it was the dead of winter, and no music?a aNo music?a Susanna laughed.

aI hummed it,a Frances said. aIt was the most glorious waltz ever waltzed, Susanna. Believe me it was.a They lapsed into a companionable silence while Francesas dreamy expression and slightly flushed cheeks indicated that she was reliving that waltz and Susanna wondered if anyone would dance with her at the a.s.sembly. Oh, how she hoped so! She would not even think about the waltz. Just one seta"any set.

She knew the steps of the waltz, though. It was a dance Mr. Huckerby, the dancing master, always taught the girls at school. He was not, however, allowed to dance it with any of them, but only with any teacher who was willing to oblige for demonstration purposes. That had used to be Frances. Now Susanna and Anne and sometimes Mademoiselle tienne, the French teacher, took turns.

Susanna loved the waltz more than any other dance. Not that there was anything even faintly romantic about performing the steps with Mr. Huckerby, it was true, especially when an audience of girls, many of them stifling giggles, looked on. But she had always dreamed of waltzing in a glittering, candlelit ballroom in the arms of a tall, handsome gentleman who smiled down into her eyes as if no one else existed in the world but the two of them.

I am not a romantic, she had said earlier to Viscount Whitleaf. What an absolute bouncer of a fib! She lived a busy, disciplined life as a schoolteacher, and she did indeed love her joba"she had spoken the truth about that. But her dreams were rich with romancea"with love and marriage and motherhood.

All those things she would never experience in the real world.

As if I had stepped into a moment that was simply magic.

She had wanted to weep when he spoke those words, so meaningless to him, so achingly evocative to her. How she longed for the magic of someone to love more than anyone or anything else in life. Of someone to love her in the same way.

For an unguarded moment she pictured herself waltzing with Viscount Whitleaf, those laughing violet eyes softened by tenderness as they gazed into her own.

But she shuddered slightly as she shook off the image and reached for a ginger biscuit. She must certainly not begin sullying the splendor of her dreams by imposing his image on them.

And then she thought of something else he had said.

You wounded me to the hearta"to that chest organ, that mundane pump.

She almost ruined her aversion to him by chuckling aloud with amus.e.m.e.nt.

Frances would think she had taken leave of her senses.

And then she thought again of Sidley Park. She had lived until the age of twelve only a few miles away from it, though she had never actually been there. She had known it as the home of Viscountess Whitleaf, though she had always known too that the young viscount lived there as well as his five sisters, who bore the name of Edgeworth. She recalled that when she had first heard Frances speak of the Earl of Edgecombe she had had a nasty turn, wondering if he was of the same familya"until she had realized that the names were not identical.

But apart from that, she had done a good job of holding the memories at bay. They were just too excruciatingly painful. She had heard that some people blocked painful memories so effectively that they completely forgot them. She sometimes wished that could have happened to her.

A specific memory came back to her then. She must have been five or six years old at the time and was playing close to the lake with Edith Markham when they had been joined by a young boy a few years older than they. He had asked them with great good humor and open interest what they were doing and had squatted next to Susanna on the bank to see if there was a fish on the end of her makes.h.i.+ft fis.h.i.+ng line.

aOh, hard luck!a he had said when he had seen that there was not. aI daresay the fish are not biting today. Sometimes they do nota"or so I have heard. My mama will not let me go fis.h.i.+ng. She is afraid I will fall in or catch a chilla"instead of a fish, ha-ha. Did you get it? Catching a chill instead of a fish? Does your mama fuss you all the time? Oh, I say! You have the greenest eyes, donat you? I have never seen eyes of just that color before. They are very fine, and they look very well with your red hair. I daresay you will be pretty when you grow up. Not that you are not pretty now. I do beg your pardona"I forgot my manners for a moment. A gentleman never lets a lady believe that perhaps she is not pretty. May I hold the rod? Perhaps I will have better luck than you though I daresay you have had more practice.a But no sooner had he seated himself on the bank and taken the rod from her, looking bright and happy and friendly, than an older girl had appeared and told him in a hushed, rather shocked voice that he ought not to be playing with that little girl, and then another girl, even older, had come rus.h.i.+ng up to catch him by the hand and pull him firmly away from the bank and tell him that he must never, never go so close to the water again. He would fall in and die, she had said, and then what would they all do to console themselves?

Edith had gone off with them, and later Susanna had learned that they had come from Sidley Park on an afternoon visita"Viscountess Whitleaf with the young viscount, her son, and her daughters.

Susanna had not thought of that incident for years and years. She was surprised she remembered it at all.

Were that friendly, talkative, overprotected little boy and the viscount she had met this afternoon one and the same, then? But they must be. She had liked him then and wanted him for a friend. She had hoped he would visit again, but though she believed he had, she had never seen him again.

Even then they had been worlds apart.

aWe have been invited to spend the evening with Mr. Dannen and his mother tomorrow,a Frances said. aIt will be something for you to look forward to. And you will have a chance to take a look at him and find out if you like what you see.a She chuckled at the look on Susannaas face, and then they both laughed together.

Peter had spoken quite truthfully about neighbors in the country frequently coming together, either for impromptu walks and rides and drives and daytime calls at one anotheras homes or for more formal entertainments like dinners and carriage excursions and garden parties.

The evening of the day after he first met Susanna Osbourne offered one such formal gathering.

Dannenas mother had recently come from Scotland, where she lived with a widowed brother, to spend a few weeks with her son. And so he had invited his neighbors to meet her at an evening of cards and music followed by supper.

The Raycrofts were among the first to arrive, but by the time Peter looked up to observe the arrival in the drawing room of the Earl and Countess of Edgecombe with Miss...o...b..urne, Miss Krebbs was seated beside him on a sofa, the Misses Jane and Mary Calvert were sitting close by, one on a chair, the other on an ottoman, and Miss Raycroft was leaning on the back of the sofa, having declined his offer to allow her to sit.

They were talkinga"almost inevitablya"about the a.s.sembly. Miss Krebbs had asked him about the waltz and whether it was embarra.s.sing to dance a whole set face-to-face with one partner and actually touching that partner all the time.

There had been a flurry of self-conscious giggles from the other ladies at the question, and then they had all fallen silent in order to hear his answer.

aEmbarra.s.sing?a he had said, looking from one to the other of them in mock amazement. aTo be able to look into a lovely face while my one hand is at the ladyas waist and the other in hers? I cannot think of any more congenial way to spend half an hour. Can you?a aOh,a Mary Calvert said with a deep sigh. aBut Mama will insist that it is too fast a dance for any of us to performa"and I am not talking about tempo.a aThe beauty of the waltz, though,a Peter said, ais that it is danced in public with every mama able to keep an eye upon her daughtera"and upon her daughteras partner. No man with a grain of sense would attempt anything remotely indiscreet under such circ.u.mstances, would hea"despite what he may wish to attempt.a They were all in the middle of a burst of merry and slightly risqu laughter when Peter looked up and his eyes met Susanna Osbourneas across the room.

Ah.

Well.

If someone had told him that a lightning bolt had penetrated the roof and the ceiling and the top of his head to emerge through the soles of his feet on its way through the floor, he would not have contradicted that person.

Which was the strangest thing really when one came to think of it, considering the fact that in the brief moment before she looked away he saw neither stars in her eyes nor adoration in the rest of her face. Quite the contrary, indeed. Her look made him uncomfortably aware of how he must appear sitting here, surrounded by young beauties and laughing his head off with them.

Vain, shallow popinjay.

He did not catch her eye again for all of the next couple of hours or so while he conversed with almost everyone else, played a few hands of cards, and then turned pages of music at the pianoforte while several of the young ladies displayed their talent at the instrument or twittered merrily about it. All the other men, he noticed, went to extraordinary lengths to avoid such a ch.o.r.e, though they did applaud politely at the end of each piece.

It seemed unsporting of them to keep their distance even though they were probably having interesting conversations about farming and hunting and horses and such thingsa"as he had done yesterday with Edgecombe and Raycroft in the library at Barclay Court. When one was at a mixed entertainment, though, one ought to make oneself available to the ladies.

Miss...o...b..urne, he was interested to observe, did not sit in a corner looking severely and disapprovingly about her at all the frivolity and vicea"money was actually changing hands at the card tables, though in infinitesimal amounts, it was true. Rather, she moved about among several groups with the countess until Dannen himself appropriated her and engaged her in conversation while the countess moved on. He was doing most of the talking, Peter noticed. He had observed on other occasions that Dannen liked nothing better than a captive audience for his monologues.

She looked even lovelier tonight than she had yesterday, if that was possible. She was not wearing a bonnet tonight, of course, and he could see that her hair was cut short. It hugged her head in bright, soft curls that were less fiery than red, warmer than gold, but with elements of both. She wore a cream-colored gown that showed off her hair color to full advantage.

He deliberately stayed away from hera"she had made her wishes quite clear yesterday. Perhaps he would not have spoken to her at all if he had not sat down beside Miss Honeydew after supper because he saw that she was all alone. Miss Honeydew was the elderly sister of a former vicar, now deceased. She had, he suspected, never been a beauty, since her top teeth protruded beyond her upper lip, and they and her long nose and face gave her a distinctly horsey appearance. Her hair always managed somehow to escape in untidy gray wisps from beneath the voluminous caps she wore, she squinted myopically at the world through large eyegla.s.ses that were forever slipping down her nose and listing to the left, her head seemed to be in a constant nodding motion, whether from habit or infirmity it was not clear, and there was an air of general, smiling vagueness about her.

The neighbors, Peter had noticed during the past two weeks, were invariably kind to her and she had been included in various groups earlier in the evening. But he guessed that she lived a lonely existence with no children or grandchildren or even nieces and nephews to claim her or fuss over her.

And so he went to sit beside her and engage her in conversation.

She was asking him if he had heard of the upcoming a.s.sembly when Miss...o...b..urne walked by. Miss Honeydew grasped her by the wrist, shook her arm back and forth, and beamed up at her.

aMiss...o...b..urne,a she said, athere you are. I am delighted that you are staying at Barclay Court again. This is the first chance I have had all evening to speak with you.a She had been talking witha"or listening toa"Dannen when the countess had spent some time with Miss Honeydew earlier.

Miss...o...b..urne smiled kindly down at Miss Honeydew without looking at Peter.

aHow are you, maaam?a she asked. aIt is a pleasure to see you again.a aThis young lady,a Miss Honeydew said, looking at Peter while her hand still held Miss...o...b..urneas wrist, awas remarkably kind to me the last time she was here. She came to visit me one afternoon when I had hurt my foot and could not get about, and she read to me for longer than an hour. I have eyegla.s.ses, but I still find it difficult to read. Print in books is so small these days, do you not find? Sit down, child, and talk to me. Have you met Viscount Whitleaf?a She had no choice then but to look at him, though it was a brief glance as she sat on a stool close to Miss Honeydewas chair.

aYes,a she said, aI have had the pleasure, maaam.a aMiss...o...b..urne,a he said, awhat a pleasant day it has been. I looked up several times during the course of it, but not once did I observe a single cloud in the sky. And the evening is almost as balmy as the day, or was when I left Hareford House.a She looked at him again, her green eyes grave. He smiled at her. He had promised to make nothing but bland conversation about the weather when they were forced into company with each other. He saw a sudden gleam of understanding in her eyes. She came very close to smiling.

aI believe,a she said, aI saw one fluffy cloud at noon, my lord, when I was returning from a drive with Frances. But it was a very little one, and I daresay it soon floated out of sight.a He was utterly charmed as his eyes laughed back into hers. She was capable of humor, even wit, after all. But she colored suddenly and looked back at Miss Honeydew.

aI will walk over to your cottage and read to you again one day, maaam, if you wish,a she said. aI will enjoy it.a aI should like it of all things,a Miss Honeydew cried, nodding her head more forcefully than usual. aBut you cannot walk all that way, child. It must be all of three miles from Barclay Court.a aThen I shall aska"a Miss...o...b..urne began.

But Peter, totally forgetting his resolve to stay away from her and talk only about the weather when they did come face-to-face, yielded to a more impulsive instinct.

aFor your pleasure, maaam,a he said to Miss Honeydew, aI would be prepared to go to considerable lengths. It is your pleasure to have Miss...o...b..urne come to your cottage to read to you, and you will not be disappointed. You will allow me, if you please, to bring her there myself in my curricle.a As if it were Miss Honeydewas permission that was needed.

aOha"a Miss...o...b..urne said, perhaps indignantly.

aOh,a Miss Honeydew said, enraptured, her thin, arthritic hands clasped to her bosom. aHow exceedingly kind you are to an old lady, my lord.a aOld lady?a He looked about the room in some surprise. aIs there an old lady present? Point her out to me, if you would be so good, maaam, and I shall go and be kind to her.a She laughed heartily at his sorry joke, drawing several glances their way. Peter guessed that she did not often laugh with genuine amus.e.m.e.nt.

aHow you tease!a she said. aYou are a rogue, my lord, I do declare. But it is exceedingly kind of you to offer to bring Miss...o...b..urne to me. You will both stay to tea when you come? I shall have my housekeeper make some of her special cakes.a aYour company and a cup of tea will be quite sufficient to reward me, maaam,a he said. aAh, and Miss...o...b..urneas company too.a As if that were an afterthought.

Miss Honeydew beamed happily at him.

aIt is settled, then.a He looked at the younger woman. aWhich afternoon shall we decide upon, Miss...o...b..urne?a She was looking back at him, the color high in her cheeks, an expression in her eyes he could not interpreta"or perhaps he simply did not want to. And her eyes were not actually looking directly into his own, he noticed, but somewhere on a level with his chin.

It struck him then that, even apart from the fact that she did not like him, she might also be a little intimidated by hima"or at least by his t.i.tle. Perhaps the way he had greeted her when they were introduced was so far beyond her experience that he had made her uncomfortable. Worse, perhaps he had humiliated her. What was it she had said before they parteda"I would ask you not to speak to me with such levity, my lord. I do not know how to respond.

It was a disturbing thought that perhaps he had been less than the gentleman with her.

aWill you allow me to drive you to Miss Honeydewas in my curricle?a he asked. aIt will give me great pleasure.a aThank you, then,a she said.

aTomorrow?a Miss Honeydew asked eagerly.

Miss...o...b..urne looked at her, and her expression softened. She even smiled.

aIf that will suit Lord Whitleaf, maaam,a she said.

aIt will,a he said. aAh, I see that Miss Moss must have found the music she was looking for earlier. She is beckoning me to come and turn the pages for her. You will excuse me?a Miss Honeydew a.s.sured him that she would. Miss...o...b..urne said nothing.

aYou looked,a Miss Moss said, giggling with a group of other young ladies as he came up to the pianoforte, aas if you needed rescuing.a aActually,a he said, aI was enjoying a comfortable coze with Miss Honeydew. But how could I resist the chance of being surrounded by music againa"and by beauty?a aMiss...o...b..urne will keep her company,a Miss Krebbs said. aShe does not need you too, Lord Whitleaf.a He humored the young ladies and flirted good-naturedly with them for the rest of the evening while wondering if Miss...o...b..urne would find some excuse not to ride in his curricle with him tomorrow.

Somehow, he realized, he had been aware of her all eveninga"even, oddly enough, when they were in different rooms or when both his eyes had been focused upon the sheets of music so that he could turn a page at the right moment.

He had not been similarly aware of any other woman.

Dash it all, one day of the fourteen they would both spend in this neighborhood had already pa.s.sed. Was he going to be content to allow the remaining thirteen to slip by too without at least making an effort to overcome her aversion to him and make a friend of her?

A friend?

Now that was a strange notion. Women and friends.h.i.+pa"deep friends.h.i.+p, anywaya"did not usually go together in his thoughts. He had come to think of them as mutually exclusive interests.

What exactly was his motive, then? But did there have to be one? She was an extraordinarily pretty woman and he was a red-blooded male. Was that not motive enough? He was not usually so self-conscious about his approaches to women. But then he had never before known a lady schoolteacher from Batha"except, without realizing it, the Countess of Edgecombe.

Anyway, he would have to see what tomorrow brought. At least they would be alone together for the three-mile drive to Miss Honeydewas and back againa"if Miss...o...b..urne did not find some way out of accepting his escort, that was.

And if it did not rain.

4.

Francesas matchmaking schemes were going to be doomed to disappointment, Susanna thought as she tied the ribbons of her straw bonnet beneath her chin the following afternoon. They were green to match her favorite day dressa"not that she had many others to compete with it.

The Reverend Birney, good-looking in a fresh-faced, boyish sort of way, had been polite to her last evening. He had even conversed with her for a short while at the supper table, expressing an interest in a school that took in almost as many charity girls as paying pupils. But there had been nothing approaching ardor in his manner toward her.

Mr. Dannen, shorta"as Frances had warneda"and slightly balding at the crown of his head, but not by any means unpleasing of countenance, had engaged her in conversation for almost an hour before supper even though he was the host and ought to have circulated more among all his guests. But she had asked him about Scotland, his motheras country of birth, and he had proved to be the sort of man who needed very little prompting to talk at great length on a subject of personal interest to him. His descriptions had been interesting and she had not minded at all having to listen to them. But she had felt not the smallest spark of romantic interest in him. Or he in her, she guessed.

Miss Calvert was indeed interested in Mr. Finna"and he in her.

aAh, you are ready,a Frances said from the open doorway of Susannaas room. aViscount Whitleaf is here. He is downstairs, talking with Lucius.a Susanna grimaced and reached for her gloves. Her stomach felt suddenly queasy and her knees less than steady.

aI wish I were going to walk to Miss Honeydewas cottage,a she said.

aYou know we would have called out a carriage for you before we allowed that to happen,a Frances said.

aBut he was there when I offered to go read to Miss Honeydew,a Susanna explained, aand he felt obliged to offer to take me in his own conveyance. Poor man! I was horribly embarra.s.sed.a Frances laughed and moved aside to allow Susanna to step out of her room.

aI do not suppose he minded in the least,a she said. aHe is nothing if not gallant to ladies. It is very sweet of you, Susanna, to be willing to give up an afternoon for Miss Honeydew. I try to call on her a few times whenever we are at home. It has never occurred to me, though, to offer to read to her, despite the fact that I remember you did it the last time you were here too.a By that time they were downstairs and approaching the front doors. They were open, and Susanna could see the Earl of Edgecombe and Viscount Whitleaf standing just outside them at the top of the horseshoe steps. They turned at the approach of the ladies, and the viscount swept off his hat and bowed.

aIt is a glorious day again,a he said, his eyes laughing at Susanna. aToday there are definitely a few clouds in the skya"I counted twelve on my way over herea"but they are small and white and harmless and actually add to the beauty of the sky.a Susanna might have laughed out loud or at least smiled if she had not just stepped outside and seen the vehicle in which she was to ridea"Frances and the earl must wonder why he was making such an issue of what ought to have been a pa.s.sing mention of the weather. But she had seen the vehicle. He had said last night that he would escort her in his curricle, but she had been too caught up in the knowledge that he was going to drive her to reflect upon the fact that she had never ridden in one before. And this was no ordinary curricle. It was, she guessed, a gentlemanas racing curricle, light and flimsy, its wheels large, its seat looking small and fragile and very far up off the ground.

aAnd the occasional shade is welcome,a Frances said. aIt is very warm today.a aMiss Honeydew seems determined to ply us with tea and cakes after Miss...o...b..urne has read to her,a the viscount said. aWe may be gone for quite a while, but you may rest a.s.sured that I will return Miss...o...b..urne safe and sound.a aWhitleaf is a notable whip, Susanna,a the earl said with a laugh as they all descended the steps to the terrace. aYou need not fear for your safety.a aI am not afraid,a she said. aIt is just that I have never ridden in a curricle before.a And the seat looked even higher and the whole thing flimsier from down herea"and marvelously elegant. The horses, which were being held by one of the grooms from the stable, looked alarmingly frisky. But even before she need start worrying about the journey itselfahow on earth was she going to get up there?

Fortunately it proved easier than it looked. She climbed up to the seat with no dreadful loss of dignity, though she clung to the viscountas hand as she did so. She moved over on the seat as far as she could go, but even soa But even so, when he joined her there and gathered the ribbons into his hands, his outer thigh and hip were touching hersa"and there was nothing she could do about it. And she had thought two days ago when they were walking back to Barclay Court from Hareford House that she had never felt more uncomfortable in her life! She had known nothing then about discomfort.

He gave the horses the signal to start, the curricle swung into motion, and her hand took a death grip on the rail beside it. For a few moments she could think of nothing but her own safetya"or lack thereof.

aI will not let you fall,a he said as they moved from the terrace onto the lane. aAnd I will not spring the horsesa"unless you ask me to do so, that is.a Ask him toa She laughed and turned her head toward him. He looked back, and she felt all the shock of discovering that their faces were only inches apart.

aLaughter, Miss...o...b..urne?a he said, raising his eyebrows. aYou are not enjoying the ride by any chance, are you?a She was terrified. Her toes were curled up inside her shoes, her hand was still gripping the rail hard enougha"or so it seemeda"to put five dents in the metal, and every muscle in her body was clenched. The hedgerows rushed past them somewhere below her line of vision, the little clouds dashed by overhead, the horses trotted eagerly down the lane, their chestnut coats gleaming in the suns.h.i.+ne, the seat swung effortlessly on its springs. She wasa She laughed again.

aThis is wonderful!a she cried.

Then, of course, she felt terribly foolish. How gauche of her! She was behaving like a child being given a rare treat. And yet she did not feel like a child as she became aware again of his thigh and shoulder brus.h.i.+ng against hers.

His laughter mingled with her own.

He had caused her a largely sleepless night, she recalled. She had dreaded this afternoon and the thought of being alone with him again. What would she talk about? She had no wish to talk with Viscount Whitleaf of all people. Even apart from the name he bore she had decided on her first acquaintance with hima"on her first sight of hima"that he was shallow and frivolous. And yet she had not been able to forget that he had been sitting with Miss Honeydew when most of the other young people had avoided her all evening whenever they could do so without appearing ill-mannered. And that he had made her laugh with that foolish but surely kindly-meant flattery about an old lady. And he had voluntarily doomed himself to the tedium of an afternoon at Miss Honeydewas cottage. He had nota"as Susanna had led Frances to believea"been trapped into offering her a ride in his curricle. He might easily have avoided doing so.