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SATURDAY MORNING WAS crisp with the smell of rain gone past, followed by the hot sun to warm everything. The gentleman had gone to hunt, delighted to have something to shoot, while the younger ladies brought their paints and walked out near the lake to capture the scenery. Amelia Stanley set her easel close enough for conversation with the Misses Pratt, who had immediately situated themselves on the sole bench.
Mary Makon had walked over with her brother after breakfast. She sat on a provided blanket next to Jane where she happily drew portraits of those around her. Lady Margaret had gone into town to have a dress fitted, so Jane neglected her sketch quite shamefully to further her acquaintance with Miss Makon.
The afternoon began to slip by, and with it, the men appeared around a bend.
“Ho there, that’s a pretty sight!” Sir Reginald rode on a wide bay horse with a black mane that had a tendency to stop and snack in between his commands.
Mr. Pratt scoffed. “Reggie, you’d think anything with a skirt a pretty sight.”
“It’s nice to see my sister sketching. She’s quite excellent, you know, can gather a likeness very well.” James Makon affirmed.
“Truly?” Lord Petersham turned his head to look at Mary, smiling. “Perhaps we should have her draw portraits of us all one night.”
They had come close enough for the ladies to hear the conversation, and Miss Pratt turned immediately to say, “Oh, Lord Petersham, Sir Reginald, isn’t it a pleasant day?”
“It is, Miss Pratt and looks as if it will stay fine.” He eyed the sky for a stray cloud to contradict him. The other gentleman had ridden up to join the conversation.
“I’m getting a mite peckish, my lord. I think I’ll head in for some luncheon.” Lord Wyndham nodded to Lord Petersham; Lord Cheswick followed suit after a smile for his daughter.
“Oh, my lord, what an excellent idea. Perhaps we could have a little luncheon served here and you may all join our party?” Miss Pratt’s smiles were contagious and Lord Petersham quickly agreed, galloping off to see it done. A short while later, more blankets were provided as a light luncheon was laid out.
It wasn’t until all had been arranged and paintings had been put aside in favor of strawberries, that Miss Pratt asked, “And where, my lord, is your elusive brother? I declare, he is something of a mystery, for I am sure he said he was to go hunting with you all today.” She put a strawberry in her mouth which allowed Lord Petersham to respond.
“You have the right of it, Miss Pratt, for he did go hunting with us, but is now in meetings all afternoon, I’m afraid. Some business with the estate, he said.” He adjusted his leg again, which seemed much too long for the pretty little quilt laid out.
Miss Pratt nodded and changed the subject to her painting of the lake and the efforts of the men that morning. Bored, Jane turned to look back out at the lake. She had noticed Mr. Lawrence was missing too, but hesitated to ask in case she looked too eager. Mary nudged her and made a comment about her own sketch and she was distracted into light conversation once more.
***
JANE HURRIED DOWN THE stairs, frustrated at being late for dinner again despite all of her efforts otherwise. She turned toward the drawing room and nearly bumped into Lord Harrington, who was also making his way there.
“Forgive me, my lord, I was concerned about being late.” Her cheeks blushed as she rose from her curtsey.
“It is nothing, for I too have been occupied and nearly forgot. Perhaps we could enter together and no blame will be cast?” His smile calmed her and she took his offered arm.
Together they entered, and the attention on them was so severe that she nearly missed his subtle passing of a cane to Simmons. Confused at her discovery and worried Lady Harrington would think she was too forward, she quickly left his side and found the Makons and Mr. Lawrence as they stood to enter the dining hall.
Dinner felt exactly as it had been for the last week, with Jane sitting across from the vicar and his smiles, with Sir Reginald on the left with his smirks. Mr. Lawrence had been snagged by Lord Wyndham, so had ended up too far away to converse with. Lord Harrington sat at the head of the table of course, with Cynthia Pratt to his right and Mr. Pratt to his left. He rarely had conversation outside his two bookends, and Jane felt her own smirk arise as she realized what a formidable general Lady Harrington would make.
Sir Reginald’s brash commentary began to fill her ears and make her face alternately white and red. Her attempts at the fish were much more profitable when she directed her attention to Lord Cheswick and his lack of conversation. Lamb was served, but before she could take her first bite it was interrupted by an abrupt change in volume by Sir Reginald.
“McInnes! You’ve done quite a bit with sheep, eh?” Sir Reginald’s voice drowned out conversation and the company all politely looked to Mr. McInnes for his response. The stocky man put a mouthful of mutton into his mouth and began to chew, staring Sir Reginald down. The silence became awkward until Sir Reginald commented.
“Sorry about that; didn’t know you’d taken a bite, what?” And smiling, he turned to make conversation with Miss Annabelle, her face lighting up in response. Jane quietly laughed into her napkin so as not to make a sound. It was a few minutes before she could look up and when she did, she found herself looking down the table at Lady Margaret who didn’t bother to hide her own big grin as she shook her head.
“Miss Shaw, where should you care to go?” Lord Harrington’s voice came at her from the head of the table an unremarkable distance, but remarkable all the same in its effect to cause the entire table to look at her.
The uncomfortable silence made Jane set down her fork as she scratched out, “My lord?”
“The ladies each get to choose an outing for the day, and I believe it is your turn.” His face showed no expression, and indeed his request merely seemed a kindness as bestowed by a thoughtful host. Miss Pratt smiled at him, her hand on his arm, but he made no notice as he watched Jane.
Her face burnt red at the attention. “I...perhaps...” She caught Meg’s eye who mouthed something. “...a picnic?”
Lord Harrington smiled. “A picnic it is. I know a lovely spot and we’ll have Cook prepare us a feast for after church tomorrow.”
“Far be it from me to thwart such a happy occasion, but I cannot help but wonder if it’s entirely appropriate. Six days shall work be done: but the seventh day is the Sabbath of rest.” Mr. Makon’s comment drew the attention of the company; his frown drew giggles from Meg.
“I say, old boy, surely the good Lord ate on Sunday, what?” Sir Reginald’s rebuttal made Jane cringe, but before Mr. Makon could respond, Lady Harrington intervened.
“It is meant merely to be a luncheon al fresco, Mr. Makon. However, if the activity offends you in any way, you need not come, although of course you shall be missed.” Lady Harrington’s response drew a sigh from most and the conversation reverted back to the ridiculous, leaving Mr. Makon shaking his head as Miss Makon smiling knowingly at Jane.
Dessert was served – a glorious blancmange that made Jane sigh after each bite, and Sir Reginald turned to address Lady Harrington, “Such an excellent repast, my lady. I shall have to loosen my stays, what?” He winked at Jane, who turned to focused on her plate, knowing she was being cowardly, but too much of a coward to care.
Giggles were heard yet again from the Lady Margaret end of the table, but Lady Harrington quickly stood, and Jane breathed a sigh of relief as she led the women from the room.
“I hope you are all prepared to regale us, for it will not be much of a musicale if you are not.” Lady Harrington led the ladies into the music room where a very grand pianoforte was set with a small arrangement of other instruments. Sheaves of music were stacked on shelves, and furniture had been rearranged to make way for more seating. The men quickly joined the ladies, sitting by their favorites and the conversation grew in excitement.
Jane watched Miss Fancot - Sally, her parents had called her - sit once more between her parents near the rear of the room, doing what she did best; remaining unnoticed. Apart from a few polite acknowledgments, she was successful.
“Miss Shaw, may I?” She looked at Mr. Lawrence who gestured to the chair next to her and she smiled and nodded, absurdly pleased.
“Miss Pratt, I hope you will be the first to play for us?” Sir Reginald’s tone was surprisingly polite, and Cynthia Pratt was all sweet smiles as she moved forward.
Miss Pratt’s first piece was a Grand Concerto by Steibelt that she played perfectly. Smiling as she finished, Cynthia gestured to her sister who played while she sang a Scottish air, her eyes on Lord Harrington for its entirety.
Miss Annabelle played another tune, followed by Meg, who played and sang Robin Adair with such sweetness that Mr. McInnes had cocked his head as he watched. As it was the only emotional response Jane had seen from him the entire evening, she found it particularly fascinating.
Lord Petersham good-naturedly brought out a flute and played lively songs that matched his personality, and made everyone smile. His friendly smile, even while playing, made Jane wonder once more if he was her anonymous friend. The next moment found her shaking her head as she realized how presumptuous it was to assume it was Lord Petersham. It could very well be Lord Harrington or Mr. Mc – no, not him. Perhaps Mr. Makon, except she was sure he could not help but bring scripture into any letter he wrote. She glanced at Mr. Lawrence, knowing he was the most likely candidate, but at a loss at how to prove it.
Her train of thought was interrupted when John Pratt was bullied into singing a trio with his sisters. She was surprised to find his voice excellent as she exchanged raised eyebrows with Lady Margaret.
Lord Harrington was called upon to play the pianoforte, which he declined, but Miss Fancot sang a short ditty as she played a piece her mother had obviously preapproved. As she took her chair between her parent’s nods, Lord Petersham was jabbing Mr. Pratt in the arm. Mr. Pratt merely shook his head with a mumbled protest, “...never...too sweet...”. Jane wondered how long his protests would hold out against Lady Wyndham, who was making efforts with Lady Dewhurst even now.
Her eyes settled on Miss Pratt, who lightly grabbed Lord Harrington’s arm, a gentle tug pulling him back down into the seat next to her. “She does not play, my lord, so you needn’t ask.” Her sky blue eyes met Jane’s, quickly turning back to make conversation with Lord Harrington.
It seemed an end to the pleasant array of talent when Lady Harrington said, “Oh Charles, wouldn’t you care to play your violin?” Her smile was soft, her tone motherly and Jane looked to him in anticipation.
Lord Harrington sighed. “For you, mother, I will.”
A servant was sent to retrieve it, and shortly he was tightening the strings tuning it quickly. What followed was a concerto Jane recognized vaguely as Bach. The playing was so exceptional that she shortly found herself with her eyes closed while her heart strained to hear each note. It ended soft and there was a breath before the applause. Jane opened her eyes to find Lord Harrington looking straight at her. He smiled and nodded, acknowledging their mutual understanding of the music.
The evening was closing as Jane contemplated her bed, when Meg came to claim her.
“Jane, you must tell me what you think of our other guests.” Meg faced her, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “For I know you have been watching them all evening, and I am sure you have figured them all out.”
Jane smiled at Meg. “I’m in no position to make assumptions, Meg, for I know them no better than you, and in many cases much less.”
Miss Makon, who had come over as well, moved closer for conversation. “I can at least tell you the Dewhursts are nice enough, if a little tense, and their daughter is....well, I believe she will do better once she is married and has her own space to spread her wings.” Mary said this as she leaned slightly forward. “If you can get her alone, she is a lovely conversationalist, but it is a very rare thing indeed.”
“I shall endeavor to do so, although I have not had much success thus far.” Jane looked thoughtful; the Dewhurts had left immediately following the musicale and had not allowed Miss Fancot the opportunity for any private conversation.
“It is a pity her parents do not allow her more freedom, but I cannot fault them, for too much freedom is a worse vice of parenting. And withal they learn to be idle, wandering about from house to house; and not only idle, but tattlers also and busybodies, speaking things which they ought not.” The vicar frowned as he said this, and Jane met Mary’s eyes, which rolled. He had sat himself next to Mr. Lawrence, who straightened quickly.
“I am not familiar with Mr. McInnes either. He is new to the area, is that right?” Meg was looking at the stocky man who sat next to Lord Wyndham, although neither were conversing. “At least, was the question of sheep ever resolved?”
Jane laughed quietly.
“He moved into Marchfield this past month, but he’s not very sociable, so not much about him is known.” Mary turned to her brother. “James, you visited him, didn’t you? What do you make of him?”
“He’s Scottish, as you can see.” He gestured to the man’s girth, which both amused and confused the girls. “I believe he needs the guiding influence of a woman, for he is rather rough around the edges.” Mr. Makon frowned and changed the subject. “Come ladies, perhaps we could join the others in their game?”
Jane contemplated the Scotsman and added, “Mr. McInnes seems rather shocking in his manners, but I believe there is more to him than this display.”
“Come now, Miss Shaw, we must not gossip. The words of a talebearer are as wounds, and they go down into the innermost parts of the belly.” The vicar looked on disapprovingly, while Mary smirked.
“I am not gossiping, Mr. Makon, merely pointing out that we know very little of him and I believe there might be much to recommend him if we were to uncover his true nature.”
“Do you really think so?” Meg looked over at him again to find him looking at her, his gaze unfaltering. His broad nose twitched, but otherwise his face remained unchanged.
Jane smiled. “The more I see of him, the more I am convinced.” And with that she excused herself to retire for the evening.