“And trying to come up with a reason why it had to be done in private, in the vicarage—yes, indeed. Next time, though, the vicar and I will save you a bit of work and we’ll do the shield-casting.” If she hadn’t been so tired, she’d have resented the slightly patronizing way he said that.
Bit of work, indeed! Oh, I suppose it’s only a bit of work for a Master!
But she was too tired to sustain an emotion like resentment for long, and anyway, she could be over-reacting to what was, after all, a kindly gesture.
“Excellent,” was all she said, instead. “The more of my personal energies I can conserve, the longer I can spend on Ellen.”
By this time, they had reached, not the front door, but the kitchen. “This way to the stables is shorter,” he said, hesitating on the threshold, as a red-cheeked woman bustled about a modern iron range set into a shockingly huge fireplace (what age was this part of the house? Tudor? It was big enough to roast the proverbial ox!) at the far end of the room, completely oblivious to anything but the food she was preparing for luncheon. “If you don’t mind—”
“After all my railing on the foolishness of Madam’s society manners?” she retorted.
He actually laughed. “Well struck,” was all he said, and escorted her across the expanse of spotless tile—the growling of her stomach at a whiff of something wonderful and meaty fortunately being swallowed up in the general clamor of pots, pans, and orders to the two kitchen-maids. Then they were out in the cold, crisp air and the stable was just in front of them.
It turned out to be a good thing that Dr. Pike had escorted her when they reached the stall where she’d put Beau, she was feeling so faint with hunger and weariness that her fingers would have fumbled the bridle-buckles, and she would never have been able to lift the sidesaddle onto the gelding’s back. But he managed both without being asked, and then, without a word, put both hands around her waist and lifted her into place!
She gaped down at him, once she’d hooked her leg over the horn and gotten her foot into the stirrup. He grinned back up at her. “I’m stronger than I appear,” he said.
“I—should think so!” she managed.
His grin broadened. “I’m glad to have surprised you for a change,” he told her, with a suspiciously merry look in his eyes. “Now, you’re near-perishing with hunger, so the sooner you can get back to Oakhurst, the better. I’ll look forward to seeing you at the vicarage; if not on Wednesday, then you’ll get an invitation from the vicar for something. Fair enough?”
“Perfect,” she said, feeling that it was a great deal more than excellent. If the man was maddening, at least he was quickly learning not to assume too much about her! And she had the sense that he could be excellent company, when he chose. She finished arranging her skirts, and tapped Beau with her heel. “I’ll be looking forward to it, Doctor!” she called, as he moved out at a fast walk, evidently as ready for his own stable and manger full of hay as she was for her luncheon.
“So will I!” she heard with pleasure, as she passed out of the yard and onto the drive. “That, I promise you!”
Chapter Sixteen
MARINA had thought that she could predict what Arachne was likely to say or do, but Madam was still able to surprise her. “I have ordered more riding habits for you,” Madam said over breakfast, the day after she and Reggie returned on the afternoon train.
A telegraph to the house had warned of their coming yesterday morning, and gave orders to send the coach to the station, giving the entire household plenty of time to prepare for their return. Which was, sadly, before supper, so Marina had needed to go to the cook and ask her to prepare Madam’s usual supper. And she appeared at that meal dressed, trussed up, coiffed, and entirely up to Madam’s standards. But she had eaten supper alone; Madam had gone straight to her room and did not emerge that evening.
She was summoned to a formal breakfast, though, and steeled herself for rebuke as she entered the dining room. Madam, however, was in a curious mood. She had a sated, yet unsatisfied air about her, The moment that Madam opened her mouth to speak, Marina had cringed, expecting a rebuke.
Instead—just a comment. A gift, in fact! Marina wasn’t certain whether to thank Arachne or not, though.
She decided to opt for muted appreciation.
“Thank you, Madam,” she murmured.
Arachne nodded, and made a vague, waving motion with on hand. She spoke very little after that initial statement; Reggie not at all, until finally Marina herself decided to break the silence.
“I hope that you put things to rights in Exeter, Madam?” she said, tentatively. “I am sure that you and my cousin are able to cope with any difficulties.”
Reggie smirked. Madam, however, turned her head and gave her a measuring look. “I believe that we have set things in order” she said, “And I trust you have kept yourself in good order as well.”
“In absence of tasks, Madam, I went riding, for it is marvelous good exercise, and healthy,” she replied demurely. “And I read. Poetry, for the most part.”
“Browning?” Reggie asked, between forkfuls of egg and grilled sausages. “Keats?”
“Donne,” she replied demurely.
“Mary Anne informed me of your rides,” Madam said. “And I fear that you will soon look shabby in the same habit day after day. This is why I have ordered more, and I believe we will try some different cuts. Perhaps Mrs. Langtry can become famous and admired for wearing the same dress over and over again, but I believe no one else could.”
“Mrs. Langtry is a noted beauty, Madam. I should not presume to think that I could follow her example.” She applied herself to her breakfast plate, grateful that there was very little that Madam’s orders could do to ruin breakfast foods—and that, by its nature, breakfast was a meal in which there were no courses as such to be removed. So with Peter attentively—but quietly—seeing to her plate, she was actually enjoying her meal.
Except for the tea, which was, as always with Madam, scarcely more than colored water.
“I understand that you are planning to visit the vicar this afternoon? Something about a Bible-study class?” Madam continued, with a slight, but very superior, smile. “You must take care that you are not labeled as a bluestocking.”
“There can be nothing improper about taking comfort in religion,” Marina retorted, hoping to sound just the tiniest bit stuffy and offended. Reggie thought she wasn’t looking, and rolled his eyes. Madam’s mouth twitched slightly.
“Not at all, my dear.” Madam chided. “It may not be improper, but it is—” she hesitated “—boring.”
“And of course, one shouldn’t be boring,” Reggie said solemnly, though there was no doubt in Marina’s mind that he was laughing at her behind his mask. “I’m afraid it is an unpardonable social crime.”
“Oh.” She did her best to appear chastened, and noted the satisfaction on both their faces. “Then I shan’t mention it to anyone. It won’t matter in the village.”
“The village matters very little,” Madam pronounced. “But I believe your time would be better spent in some other pursuit.”
Marina contrived a mulish expression, and Arachne sighed. Reggie didn’t even bother to hide his amusement.
“You’re going to turn into a laughingstock, cuz,” he said. “People will snicker at you behind your back, call you ‘the little nun’ and never invite you to parties. Turn it into a Shakespeare class instead—or a poetry society. Try and instill some culture into these bumpkins. People might think you’re mad, but at least they won’t call you a bore.”