Joan Smith - Regency Masquerade

"No, from Devon. I am on holiday. I shall be going on to London to visit relatives when the spirit moves me."

She sighed. “How nice to be a footloose bachelor.” She let her voice rise a notch to indicate interest. “Or perhaps I am taking too much for granted to assume you are not married?” she asked.

"I am a bachelor. And where are you folks from?"

"Scotland."

"I own a great big sheep farm in the Moorfoot Hills,” Sir David boasted. “P'raps you have heard of it-Penworth Hall?"

"No, I have never been to Scotland. I hear it is beautiful. How large a flock do you have, Sir David?"

"Hundreds,” he said, looking helplessly to Lady Crieff.

"Ninnyhammer,” she scolded. “Sir David has over a thousand sheep, Mr. Hartly. And two thousand acres,” she added, choosing numbers that sounded impressive without stretching the bounds of credibility. The journals had stated only that Penworth Hall was a large, prosperous estate.

She turned to Sir David. “And it is high time you informed yourself of your estate, David. It is all yours, now that your papa has stuck his fork in the wall. I, alas, got only-but Mr. Hartly is not interested in me,” she said, with a coquettish glance.

The incident raised a doubt in Hartly's mind. Odd that a lad of sixteen or so years was unaware of the extent of his holdings. He would get him alone soon and give him a more thorough quizzing. It also raised the question-what had Lady Crieff got? She had been carrying a padlocked case, presumably of jewels. He looked at the diamond necklace at her throat. It was modest but genuine. Iridescent prisms glowed in its depths when she moved. They danced over the satin mounds of her breasts, which just peeped over the top of her gown. When she noticed where he was looking, she gave him a knowing smile, then pulled her shawl over her bosom.

"My own estate specializes in cattle,” he said. “Have you seen anything of the neighborhood yet?"

He pitched his question between the two, for he wanted to include the young lad in any outing.

"We just arrived this afternoon,” Lady Crieff replied. “It seems a desolate enough place. Not a decent shop to be seen. I daresay there are no assemblies at Blaxstead?"

"Like you, I have just arrived. We arrived at the same time, I believe,” he mentioned. “I plan to drive about the neighborhood tomorrow to see what entertainments offer. Might I induce you to join me?"

"Now, that is what I call neighborly, Mr. Hartly. I should like it, of all things!” Lady Crieff replied, but she accepted with an air of conferring a favor and went on to add that David must accompany them. “Not that I mean to say I mistrust you, but for the looks of it, you know. I shall be happy to go. I am not one to look down on a fellow just because he does not have a handle to his name. I invited every gentleman who owned a decent jacket to my routs at Penworth. I have had over a hundred in the ballroom at one time, have I not, David? I try to round up a few spare gents, you must know, so the plainer girls do not have to sit on their haunches all evening."

"How exceedingly considerate of you,” Hartly replied, chewing back a grin.

She smiled her pleasure. “Everyone said I had the best parties in the neighborhood. Mind you, Sir Aubrey was not too fond of them, but I could always get around him."

"I wager you could."

Hartly was happy that David interrupted the conversation, for he hardly knew how to converse with such a vulgar piece of merchandise. Were it not for the suspicion that she had something to do with Stanby, he would have left long ago. He felt a rankling annoyance that her beauty was spoiled by her common manners and self-seeking ways.

"Can I drive your curricle?” Sir David asked.

"I am afraid my team would be a bit much for you to handle. Well, folks, it is settled then that you will join me tomorrow, if the weather is fine?"

Moira began wondering why Mr. Hartly was so insistent on furthering the acquaintance. She was sharp enough to see he had no good opinion of her as a person. His original admiration had turned to disparagement once she went into her act. Laughing up his sleeve, if the truth were known. He had been examining her diamonds in a troublesome way, and he had been asking for Major Stanby earlier.

"Let us wait and see if the weather is good,” she said.

"There speaks the voice of caution,” Hartly replied, concealing his annoyance behind a smile. “I shall pray for sunshine."

He was too wise to rush his fences, nor was it necessary. The pretty vixen was interested in him. He finished his coffee and took his leave, after expressing his pleasure in making their acquaintance. He had a fair idea where they would go after dinner. The evening light lingered long in May. The inn offered no entertainment, and with boredom and water to lure them outside, he figured he would meet up with the pair again on the banks of the estuary. His real interest was in scraping an acquaintance with Stanby. With this end in view, he spoke to Bullion in a raised voice on his way out. “Any chance of a game of cards later this evening, Bullion?” he asked.

"We usually have a friendly game in a corner of the room. A bunch of the local lads drop in about nine.” He nodded knowingly to Stanby. “A few of my guests sit down as well."

"Excellent. I shall do likewise. A fine dinner. I particularly enjoyed your Cook's apple tart."

"Sorry about the bread sauce. Your man was asking for it, but my Maggie don't care for outsiders in her kitchen. She'll make it for you herself tomorrow in place of the Yorkshire. How is that, then?"

"Mott has a strange idea of what I like! I despise bread sauce. Pay him no heed."

Bullion smiled in satisfaction. Why was it the servants of the mighty were so much more demanding than their masters?

"My Maggie'll be happy to hear it."

Hartly went out into the cool evening, surprised that it was still twilight. It had seemed like the middle of the night in the Great Room.

As soon as Hartly left the room, Moira said to her brother, “He wasted no time in putting himself forward."

"He was ogling the diamonds,” Jonathon said. “I should sleep with them under my pillow if I were you."

Moira's eyes kept darting to Major Stanby as she ate her apple tart. "He shows no interest. He cannot know who Lady Crieff is. We must leak the details of her history to him somehow. Hartly had no notion of it either. I had thought she was infamous enough to be known by name. I shall leave the clippings from the journals on my bedside table. No doubt the servants will read them and spread the word. Or you could let it slip tomorrow,” she suggested. “It is the sort of thing a youngster might be foolish enough to boast of."

"I ain't exactly a youngster,” he exclaimed, taking instant objection to the charge.

"Only in years,” she said sadly. “You have had to grow up fast, and without the sort of education you deserve, though the vicar did a fine job of tutoring you. You will finish your education at Eton or Harrow when we get our money back, then go on to university, as Papa wanted."

"I do not care a brass farthing for that. It is you who deserves a treat after this is over-if we can get our money back, I mean."

"We'll do it, David,” she said firmly. “Never allow yourself to doubt. It would be the beginning of the end. If we failed, we would have to go on living as we have been-perhaps even lose the Elms. We have found him.” Her eyes slid to Lionel March. “The job is half-done, and we will finish it."

When they left, Major Stanby was still at the table.

"It is only eight o'clock,” Jonathon said, as they left the room. “Let us go out for a stroll before it comes on dark, Lady Crieff. It will be a long evening, locked up in our rooms."