THE FIRST DAY OF OCTOBER was crisp and cool, the turning leaves dazzling, from the deep blood red of the maples to the delicate peach pastels of the hawthorns.
Valeria was walking alone in the Wilderness; and the thought amused her, in a glum sort of way. The Wilderness, or “wild grove,” was the oldest garden on the estate, enclosed by a high stone wall with an ancient sagging wooden gate on the west side. The most that the gardeners did to tend the Wilderness was plant shrubbery and trim and prune it to form winding paths, and copses and thickets where stone seats and benches were placed. Valeria was walking down the main path, which was bordered on either side by slender graceful beech trees. She was awed by the silence, and it occurred to her that here was another example of the thoughtful, artistic things that her stepfather had done. Several years ago he had had the gravel walks replaced by turf and moss. There was no hard crunch of gravel underfoot to disturb the tranquility.
But Valeria was far from tranquil. Three days ago Lord Hylton and Lord and Lady Lydgate had left Bellegarde, for they were keen to return to Foxden Park for pheasant season. Valeria had thought she would be relieved, but she was not. She was at first baffled, and then irritated, at how much she missed Alastair Hylton.
Hastily in her mind she amended, I miss Elyse and Lord Lydgate too. Elyse is near my own age, and she’s so lively and entertaining. And Lord Lydgate is so affable, such pleasant company. And Lord Hylton…is not. What is it about that man? Most of the time he was here, I was exasperated with him, and now I’m peeved that he’s gone?
As Valeria considered, she came to realize that somehow Lord Hylton had, in her mind, come to represent all the men she had been in some struggle with, in one way or another, for the past month. First there was Trueman, then Mr. Broadbill, and Thrale. Even George Wheeler, the estate agent, had been reluctant at first to teach her about the management of the estate lands; Valeria had had to calculate exactly the right comportment—an air of competence and assurance, combined with dogged persistence—in order to bring him to accept her authority. It had tried her patience, but she finally understood that to take an active part in a man’s purview, she must be ready to fight for her place.
It dawned on her that this was exactly what she missed—the battle of wits, and will, that she had continually had with Lord Hylton. They were always sparring, it seemed, and a small smile played on her lips as she thought that their quarrels were fun, even exciting.
But the smile faded as she reflected somberly, And that just shows how very stupid I am, to think that I’m so clever that matching wits with me is exciting! Why, he must have been bored to distraction! I’m amazed that he was able to stay as long as he did before he felt it was decent to escape…
And there was no escape for Valeria. She knew that her mother was in all ways the perfect example of propriety. Regina would stay in deep mourning, Valeria was sure, for at least one year. In fact, Regina had mourned Valeria’s father for two years, and then had been in half mourning for six months, Valeria recalled Craigie’s telling her. With a sinking heart Valeria thought that her mother’s code regarding mourning her husband might not be determined by the actual level of sorrow she felt. Regina might very well feel that she must pay as strict a respect to Maledon’s memory as she had to Lord Segrave’s. Valeria reflected that her own future seemed dismal indeed. She might be over twenty years old before she had the opportunity to go to London for a Season. The thought was deeply oppressive. How could she bear to be “buried in the countryside,” as the cliché went, for two years? Even now she felt so restless that she could hardly bear to sit still; sometimes she felt she wanted to just run as fast as she could, and maybe shout and yell at the top of her lungs.
Wouldn’t Lord Hylton be appalled at that, she thought acidly. He would lecture me most severely!
And so she started running.
* * *
Bellegarde returned to its normal routine, with the welcome exception that Lady Hylton would stay with them for a while longer. Regina decided, since Lady Hylton was more like family than a guest, that they would return to eating dinner at the early hour of six o’clock so that St. John and Mr. Chalmers could join them. Lady Hylton had said of the tutor, “He’s quite a gentleman, he could grace any dinner table. And he’s exceptionally good with St. John. You’re fortunate to have him, Regina.”
“Yes,” Regina said softly, “especially now. I believe Mr. Chalmers has been more of a comfort to St. John, in some ways, than either I or Valeria has been.”
Regina, Lady Hylton, Mr. Chalmers, and Valeria were gathered in the card room after dinner. St. John had gone to bed at eight o’clock, protesting loudly that he wasn’t at all tired, while yawning prodigiously. Regina and Lady Hylton sat close to the fire, talking quietly. Mr. Chalmers and Valeria sat at a card table, but they weren’t playing cards. They were conversing—after a fashion—in German.
“Acht alte Ameisen assen am Abend Ananas,” Valeria said haltingly.
“Again, the ch after a is a guttural sound, much like Scottish, as in loch,” Mr. Chalmers said. “Air must be passing over your tongue in order to—oh, Miss Segrave, I do beg your pardon!” His face turned crimson.
To mention the name of any body part to a lady was considered scandalously crass, but Valeria was hardly shocked. She laughed and said, “Mr. Chalmers, please. Instructing me in the most correct method of pronunciation is perfectly acceptable.” She repeated the sentence three times, and then started laughing again.
Lady Hylton said imperiously, “Personally, I never found the German language to be so amusing, it sounds quite heavy and humorless.”
“That’s because you don’t know what I’m saying,” Valeria said with delight. “I’m learning the pronunciation of ‘Eight old ants ate pineapple in the evening.’ Quite droll, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yes, and it will come in handy when you’re next in a conversation with Germans,” Lady Hylton said. “You’ll be able to tell them exactly how many ants there were, and what they were eating, and when.”
“You never know when the topic may come up in a German drawing room,” Mr. Chalmers said, his mild blue eyes twinkling. “It’s best that a lady be prepared for any eventuality.” He started writing down another sentence, and Valeria leaned close and asked him a question.
Lady Hylton said to Regina, “Why on earth would that child wish to learn German?”
Regina replied, “She says it’s because she loves the martial sound of it. She maintains that everything you say in German sounds like a colonel of the Hussars commanding his regiment.”
“Mm, so it does, even ‘Eight old ants ate pineapple in the evening,’ if you say it sternly enough,” Lady Hylton agreed.
“Actually, I think it’s merely something to occupy her mind,” Regina continued. “She has such an active intelligence that I think it’s hard for her to find something challenging enough to hold her interest. I thought, when she was so eager to take over St. John’s trusteeship, that her responsibilities might provide some fulfillment for her. But it seems that your son was right, Mr. Wheeler is so efficient that the estate needs very little hands-on management; Mr. Stanhope has all of the finances well in hand; and it seems that Valeria learned all she needed to know, and more, in a short period of time. She told me that she has very little day-to-day work. She seems restless. I worry about her.”
“She is excessively bright, and such people grow bored so easily,” Lady Hylton said thoughtfully. “You know, Regina, living on a fine country estate is all well and good for older, settled people. But when you’re young and clever and witty and need stimulation, living quietly in the country can be stultifying.”
“I know,” Regina replied regretfully. “Valeria should have gone to Town last year. This year she’s eighteen, she deserves to enter into society and have all the fun and excitement of London in the Season. But what can I do?”
“If you will allow me to again be a meddlesome old lady, Regina, I will tell you exactly what I think should be done…”
* * *
Three weeks later St. John and Valeria sat in the window seat in the drawing room, looking toward the village of Abbott’s Roding, watching the explosions in the night sky. In a conspiratorial voice Valeria intoned, “It was November fifth, 1605. Guy Fawkes, dressed all in black, made his way to Westminster Palace, with dark plans in his heart of assassinating His Majesty King James I. King James was a Protestant—” At the woebegone look on St. John’s face, Valeria broke off to ask him, “What’s the matter? I thought I was doing a fine job of dramatizing it.”
St. John sighed. “This isn’t going to be a story all about who said what in Parliament and who was the real king, is it? Like the Wars of the Roses? I never can get all of that straight in my head, except that the Lancasters were the red roses and the Yorks were the white roses.”
Valeria smiled. “No, dearest, this was really very simple. Guy Fawkes and his followers—he only had twelve—wanted to replace King James with a Catholic king, and they did a very shabby job of it. The conspirators got caught, the plot was foiled, the assassins were hanged. Ever since then, by Act of Parliament, November fifth is a day of thanksgiving for ‘the joyful day of deliverance.’ So now we celebrate Guy Fawkes Night with bonfires and fireworks and we burn an effigy of whoever we don’t like at the time.”
“Coo, that’s a much better story than those dumb wars over roses,” St. John said. “Lookit, lookit! Green fire!”
The village was two miles distant, but Valeria had seen to it that the best fireworks were supplied for the celebration, and the western sky was lit up with white, green, red, and blue explosions of sparkles. They could not attend, of course, since they were in mourning. Valeria had been proud of St. John, for he had been careful not to show too much disappointment to their mother.
When the spectacular displays were over, Regina said, “Come here, my darlings, I wish to tell you something. St. John, come sit with me.”
Mr. Chalmers said, “I’ll take my leave now, then, Lady Maledon.”
“No, do stay. This concerns you too, Mr. Chalmers.”
St. John sat between Regina and Lady Hylton on the sofa, while Valeria and Mr. Chalmers pulled two chairs up close.
Regina smiled at St. John. “You know, St. John, I loved your father. I mourn him.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know,” St. John said, puzzled. “Me too.”
Regina nodded. “I just want to make sure that you understand. You see, St. John, it is right and honorable to mourn for a period of time after one loses a family member. But there is not really a hard and fast rule for mourning. I have prayed long, and thought much, and I’ve made some decisions as to how we, as a family, will mourn your father.”
Kindly she continued to St. John, “You’ve been a dutiful and faithful son, and it’s time you stopped wearing your armband. We all know that you will always revere your father’s memory.”
In a subdued tone St. John said, “Yes, Mamma. I always will.” Slowly he took off his black armband.
Regina said to Valeria. “Dearest, you’ve been wearing widow’s weeds for two months, and that is quite long enough. You can put aside the bombazine, and put pretty ribbons and flowers in your hair again.”
“Thank you, Mamma,” Valeria said gratefully. “I was definitely regretting my red pelisse.”
“You do look stunning in it, and you should wear it tomorrow,” Regina said. “As for me, I have decided that I will remain in full mourning for four more months. In the middle of February, I shall go into half mourning, for a very good reason.” She smiled, and for the first time since Maledon had died, Regina truly looked happy. “We are going to London for the Season. If we go in February, we will have ample time to order your wardrobe, Valeria, and have it on hand when the Season comes into full swing in April. Also in April, my dear, you will be presented to the Queen.”
Valeria was so stunned that she couldn’t speak. But St. John wasn’t. He wiggled impatiently, then demanded, “And me too, Mamma? Am I going to London with you?”
“Certainly, my dear. Mr. Chalmers is coming too, as you must continue your lessons,” Regina said firmly.
“And Niall too?”
“Oh, yes, and Craigie and Platt.”
St. John could contain himself no longer. He jumped up and shouted “Huzzah! Did you hear that, Mr. Chalmers? We get to go to London!”
“I did,” the tutor answered with pleasure. “Thank you very much, Lady Maledon.”
“You’re certainly welcome, sir; I cannot fathom how I would manage St. John and Niall without you,” Regina said. “Valeria, you look slightly dazed. Don’t you have anything to say?”
Valeria laughed, then jumped up out of her seat, joined hands with St. John, and danced with him in a circle. “I certainly do, Mamma,” she said merrily. “Huzzah!”