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CHURCH FELT SO VERY formal after the previous evening’s frivolity and Jane found herself smiling over remembered moments despite the best intentions to pay attention to Mr. Makon’s sermon. She sat next to Mary, who smiled sweetly as her brother spoke, his mud-colored hair damp from his fervor.
Lord Petersham had somehow been placed on the other side of Mary, with Amelia Stanley on his right. Jane smirked, for Lord Petersham had looked entirely delighted when his mother insisted, and she knew it had nothing to do with Miss Stanley.
“Then I commended mirth, because a man hath no better thing under the sun, than to eat, and to drink, and to be merry.”
Jane looked up startled, her facing breaking into a grin. As she tried to compose her face once more she caught the eyes of Lord Harrington who was also smiling. He gave a small shake of his head and she turned her gaze to her lap, smiling at their mutual sense of irony at Mr. Makon’s scriptural choice.
Returning from church, Lady Harrington reminded them all of a luncheon set in the garden if they so desired, her eyes hinting strongly to her sons that they were expected.
Sending his own eyes to the sky, Lord Petersham nodded, but Lord Harrington made no such commitment as he turned toward the stairs, leaning on the banister heavily. As a result, when Jane came down to the gardens, it was a smaller group than expected. The Makons would not come, of course, and most of the older generation had decided in favor of a nap. That left Lord Petersham, Meg, Jane, and Miss Stanley sitting at a round table with a cloth of embroidered daisies covering it. A light spread of fruit, sliced meat and cheeses with rolls was laid out, and the comfortably small group made quiet conversation while they ate and enjoyed the sunshine.
After a moment, Jane noticed Lord Harrington standing at the doorway watching with tired eyes. When he saw her notice, he stepped forward.
Lord Petersham turned his head. “Charlie! Excellent. Come have a seat.” He gestured to a chair to the left of Miss Stanley who blushed delightedly.
Lord Harrington sat, then reached for a handful of berries. “Hmmmm. Are the raspberries any good, Miss Stanley?”
Blush at bay, Miss Stanley rose to the occasion. “They are, my lord. Perhaps a bit early, of course, but excellent all the same.”
“Here, Charlie, try those with some of that excellent cheese and you won’t even notice.” Lord Petersham gestured with his hand while everyone laughed as Lord Harrington tried the combination.
Conversation was a quiet hum, and Jane was just thinking a nap might be the right of it when she heard, “Miss Shaw, we did not have an opportunity to continue our discussion.” She looked to Lord Harrington who was looking directly at her with a confused Miss Stanley on his right. Lord Petersham lazily propped his feet on another of the chairs as he rolled his eyes yet again.
“And which discussion would that be, my lord?” She had propped her head up with her hand, her thoughts distracted.
“Jane, you remember, something about that Salty man, right?” Meg’s comment made Jane laugh right out loud and the rest of the table joined in. Meg took it in stride. “Well, I couldn’t remember his name, Charlie.”
He shook his head. “Henry Salt. He is a world traveler and an Egyptologist who documents his time with his paintings.”
Here he turned to look at Jane again. “We had some very interesting discussions about the Rosetta Stone, and in fact he allowed me to see some of the finished translations.”
She sat up straight. “That is most exciting. What did it say?”
“It seems to be a religious text documenting the pharoah’s decisions. It is rather dry reading, at least the part I was privileged to see. Salt’s paintings were much more illuminating and he had the most incredible stories to go with them.”
“I should like to hear some of them.”
“My favorites are his stories of the warlord in Africa he has befriended.”
“A warlord in Africa?” Four sets of eyes were wide at this information.
“Yes, Salt had been sent there to discuss trade and other...well, diplomatic situations. In fact, he gave me a map of Egypt that I had made into a puzzle. It is in the library if you should ever care to try your hand at it."
“What a serious conversation you are all having.” Miss Pratt walked up, her hair in lovely curls arranged around her expression of authority, and looked at Lord Harrington. “I hope you don’t mind I’ve decided to join you.”
Jane watched Amelia Stanley’s face flatten as Cynthia approached and Lord Petersham gave up the chair she obviously wanted next to Lord Harrington. Miss Pratt immediately required an intense conversation about the upcoming ball, her head leaning close to hear Miss Stanley and Lord Harrington’s comments better. Lord Harrington adjusted his chair back more and more from the table, while Lord Petersham excused himself and Meg inserted her own opinions wherever she could. In this new situation Jane found it easy to slip away for that anticipated afternoon nap.
***
REFRESHED AND READY for the evening, Jane enjoyed dinner, particularly as she and Lady Margaret were on either side of Mr. McInnes. Between his mumbled remarks and Meg’s long-winded commentary, Jane spent most of the meal either biting her lip or covering her mouth to keep from laughing.
Afterwards, the women left to plan an evening of charades, with Lady Harrington calling a servant to rearrange seating. When Miss Stanley suggested Miss Pratt suggest impromptu dancing in a moment of planned inspiration, Jane could hold back her grin no longer, and shaking her head at Meg, excused herself to fetch a shawl and perhaps pull herself together once more.
As she finished descending the staircase, she heard voices coming from what she believed was Lord Harrington’s study. She paused, feeling deliciously curious but knowing better than to give in. She took a breath and had just decided to act her 20 years when the door opened and she heard Lady Harrington, who had not bothered to monitor her tone.
“I will not say it again, Charles. You will find the time to escort Miss Pratt on walks or rides or whatever it is you are occupying your time with.” There was a pause as he replied, his voice too low to be clear, and his mother huffed. “A chaperon is not needed, and in fact I insist you put aside your lordly manners you find so convenient and attend to this!” She closed the door abruptly, making her way down the hall once more to the drawing room. Fortunately, Miss Shaw had anticipated such a retreat and had already entered, moving to communicate immediately with Lord Wyndham on the very fine weather.
It was, therefore, a very interesting evening as Miss Shaw kept her eyes frequently on Lady Harrington, her son, and his intended. It was even more interesting when he volunteered to play the pianoforte for the impromptu dancing, refusing to give up his seat despite his mother’s pointed looks and increasingly set jaw. At one point Miss Pratt attempted to draw him out as she leaned forward just so, her curls bouncing against her chest, but he replied immediately, his jaw set, his fingers unfaltering, “I have no wish to dance this evening, Miss Pratt. I am sure Sir Reginald could be prevailed upon to oblige you.”
At that, even Mr. Lawrence halted his conversation as he turned to look at Jane, his eyebrows raised.
That night, she went to bed wondering about Lord Harrington’s odd dismissal of Miss Pratt, Meg’s awkward interest in Mr. McInnes, her own budding friendship with Mr. Lawrence, and all the other curiosities the group had displayed. Her dreams were filled with her nephews admonishing her for eavesdropping, shaking their fingers at her as they tattled to Lady Harrington.