Devil in Spring
Page 21
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“I was about to bring those to your attention, my lady,” the estate manager said, seeming not at all annoyed. “The ocean is visible for most of the drive to the Challon estate. Those aluminum binoculars are the latest design, much lighter than brass. They’ll allow you to see clearly at a distance of four miles. You might observe sea birds, or even a shoal of porpoises.”
Eagerly Pandora lifted the binoculars to her eyes. Looking at nature might be boring, but it was considerably more entertaining with the aid of technological gadgetry.
“They can be adjusted with the turning mechanism in the center,” Mr. Cuthbert advised with a smile. “Lord St. Vincent thought you would enjoy them.”
The lenses were briefly filled with the pink blur of his face before Pandora lowered the binoculars hastily. “He put these here for me?”
“Indeed, my lady.”
After the estate manager had left, Pandora frowned and handed the binoculars to Cassandra. “Why did Lord St. Vincent assume I would want these? Does he think I need to be distracted by amusements, like little William with his string of spools?”
“It was merely a thoughtful gesture,” Cassandra said mildly.
The old Pandora would have loved to use the binoculars during the ride to the house. The new dignified, respectable, proper Pandora, however, would entertain herself with her own thoughts. Ladylike thoughts.
What did ladies think about? Things like starting charities and visiting the tenants, and blancmange recipes—yes, ladies were always bringing blancmange to people. What was blancmange, anyway? It had no flavor or color. At best it was only unassertive pudding. Would it still be blancmange if one put some kind of topping on it? Berries or lemon sauce—
Realizing her thoughts had gone off course, Pandora steered them back to the conversation with Cassandra.
“The point is,” she told her sister with great dignity, “I have no need of toys to keep me occupied.”
Cassandra was looking through the open window with the binoculars. “I can see a butterfly across the road,” she marveled, “as clearly as if it were sitting on my finger.”
Pandora sat up instantly. “Let me have a look.”
Grinning, Cassandra adroitly kept the binoculars out of her grasp. “I thought you didn’t want them.”
“I do now. Give them back!”
“I’m not finished yet.” Maddeningly, Cassandra refused to return the binoculars for at least five minutes, until Pandora threatened to auction her to pirates.
By the time Pandora had reclaimed the binoculars, the carriage had begun the long, gentle ascent up the hill. She managed to obtain glimpses of a seagull in flight, a fishing boat sailing around the headlands, and a hare disappearing beneath a juniper bush. Occasionally a cool breeze from the ocean blew through one of the open hinged windows, bringing momentary relief from the heat. Perspiration gathered and trickled beneath her corset, while the light wool of her traveling dress chafed her prickling skin. Bored and hot, she finally put the binoculars back into the leather case.
“It’s like summer,” she commented, blotting her forehead on one of her long sleeves. “By the time we arrive, I’ll be as red as a boiled ham.”
“I already am,” Cassandra said, trying to use the guidebook as a fan.
“We’re almost there,” Kathleen said, resettling William’s hot, sleepy form on her shoulder. “As soon as we reach the mansion, we’ll be able to change into lighter dresses.”
She regarded Pandora with warm concern. “Try not to worry, dear. You’re going to have a lovely time.”
“You told me the same thing just before I left for the Chaworth ball.”
“Did I?” Kathleen smiled. “Well, I suppose I have to be wrong about something every now and then.” After a pause, she added gently, “I know you’d rather be safe and snug at home, dear. But I’m glad you agreed to come.”
Pandora nodded, squirming uncomfortably as she pulled at the sleeves of her light woolen traveling dress, which was sticking to her skin. “People like me should avoid new experiences,” she said. “It never turns out well.”
“Don’t say that,” Cassandra protested.
Devon spoke then, his voice gentle. “Everyone has faults, Pandora. Don’t be hard on yourself. You and Cassandra began at a disadvantage after having been raised in seclusion for so long. But you’re both learning fast.” He smiled down at Kathleen as he added, “As I can personally attest, making mistakes is part of the learning process.”
As the carriage proceeded past the main gate, the estate mansion came into view. Contrary to Pandora’s expectations, it wasn’t at all cold and imposing. It was a gracious, low-slung residence of two stories, inhabiting its surroundings with comfortable ease. Its classic lines were softened by an abundance of glossy green ivy that mantled the cream stucco façade, and arbors of pink roses that arched cheerfully over the courtyard entrance. Two extended wings curved around the front gardens, as if the house had decided to fill its arms with bouquets. Nearby, a slope of dark, dreaming forest rested beneath a blanket of sunlight.
Pandora’s interest was caught by the sight of a man making his way to the house. A young child sat on his shoulders, while an older, red-haired boy kept pace at his side. A tenant farmer, perhaps, out walking with his two sons. It was odd that he would stride across the front lawn in such a bold manner.
He wore only trousers, a thin shirt, and an open vest, with no hat or necktie anywhere in sight. He walked with the loose-jointed grace of someone who spent a great deal of time outdoors. It was obvious that he was extraordinarily fit, the simple garments draping lightly over the lean, powerful lines of his body. And he carried the child on his shoulders as if he weighed nothing.
Eagerly Pandora lifted the binoculars to her eyes. Looking at nature might be boring, but it was considerably more entertaining with the aid of technological gadgetry.
“They can be adjusted with the turning mechanism in the center,” Mr. Cuthbert advised with a smile. “Lord St. Vincent thought you would enjoy them.”
The lenses were briefly filled with the pink blur of his face before Pandora lowered the binoculars hastily. “He put these here for me?”
“Indeed, my lady.”
After the estate manager had left, Pandora frowned and handed the binoculars to Cassandra. “Why did Lord St. Vincent assume I would want these? Does he think I need to be distracted by amusements, like little William with his string of spools?”
“It was merely a thoughtful gesture,” Cassandra said mildly.
The old Pandora would have loved to use the binoculars during the ride to the house. The new dignified, respectable, proper Pandora, however, would entertain herself with her own thoughts. Ladylike thoughts.
What did ladies think about? Things like starting charities and visiting the tenants, and blancmange recipes—yes, ladies were always bringing blancmange to people. What was blancmange, anyway? It had no flavor or color. At best it was only unassertive pudding. Would it still be blancmange if one put some kind of topping on it? Berries or lemon sauce—
Realizing her thoughts had gone off course, Pandora steered them back to the conversation with Cassandra.
“The point is,” she told her sister with great dignity, “I have no need of toys to keep me occupied.”
Cassandra was looking through the open window with the binoculars. “I can see a butterfly across the road,” she marveled, “as clearly as if it were sitting on my finger.”
Pandora sat up instantly. “Let me have a look.”
Grinning, Cassandra adroitly kept the binoculars out of her grasp. “I thought you didn’t want them.”
“I do now. Give them back!”
“I’m not finished yet.” Maddeningly, Cassandra refused to return the binoculars for at least five minutes, until Pandora threatened to auction her to pirates.
By the time Pandora had reclaimed the binoculars, the carriage had begun the long, gentle ascent up the hill. She managed to obtain glimpses of a seagull in flight, a fishing boat sailing around the headlands, and a hare disappearing beneath a juniper bush. Occasionally a cool breeze from the ocean blew through one of the open hinged windows, bringing momentary relief from the heat. Perspiration gathered and trickled beneath her corset, while the light wool of her traveling dress chafed her prickling skin. Bored and hot, she finally put the binoculars back into the leather case.
“It’s like summer,” she commented, blotting her forehead on one of her long sleeves. “By the time we arrive, I’ll be as red as a boiled ham.”
“I already am,” Cassandra said, trying to use the guidebook as a fan.
“We’re almost there,” Kathleen said, resettling William’s hot, sleepy form on her shoulder. “As soon as we reach the mansion, we’ll be able to change into lighter dresses.”
She regarded Pandora with warm concern. “Try not to worry, dear. You’re going to have a lovely time.”
“You told me the same thing just before I left for the Chaworth ball.”
“Did I?” Kathleen smiled. “Well, I suppose I have to be wrong about something every now and then.” After a pause, she added gently, “I know you’d rather be safe and snug at home, dear. But I’m glad you agreed to come.”
Pandora nodded, squirming uncomfortably as she pulled at the sleeves of her light woolen traveling dress, which was sticking to her skin. “People like me should avoid new experiences,” she said. “It never turns out well.”
“Don’t say that,” Cassandra protested.
Devon spoke then, his voice gentle. “Everyone has faults, Pandora. Don’t be hard on yourself. You and Cassandra began at a disadvantage after having been raised in seclusion for so long. But you’re both learning fast.” He smiled down at Kathleen as he added, “As I can personally attest, making mistakes is part of the learning process.”
As the carriage proceeded past the main gate, the estate mansion came into view. Contrary to Pandora’s expectations, it wasn’t at all cold and imposing. It was a gracious, low-slung residence of two stories, inhabiting its surroundings with comfortable ease. Its classic lines were softened by an abundance of glossy green ivy that mantled the cream stucco façade, and arbors of pink roses that arched cheerfully over the courtyard entrance. Two extended wings curved around the front gardens, as if the house had decided to fill its arms with bouquets. Nearby, a slope of dark, dreaming forest rested beneath a blanket of sunlight.
Pandora’s interest was caught by the sight of a man making his way to the house. A young child sat on his shoulders, while an older, red-haired boy kept pace at his side. A tenant farmer, perhaps, out walking with his two sons. It was odd that he would stride across the front lawn in such a bold manner.
He wore only trousers, a thin shirt, and an open vest, with no hat or necktie anywhere in sight. He walked with the loose-jointed grace of someone who spent a great deal of time outdoors. It was obvious that he was extraordinarily fit, the simple garments draping lightly over the lean, powerful lines of his body. And he carried the child on his shoulders as if he weighed nothing.
