Chapter Fifteen

Jemima had gleaned no end of information from the duchess as they made their way to Kent.

Her nervousness over being at a house that would also contain the Queen of England had been slowly growing inside her. Making her curtsy was one thing, but attending a house party in which Her Majesty was also a guest was a very different thing. What if she were seated nearby at dinner? What if she were asked to play cards? What if she wandered into a room and the queen was in there? What if she were asked to play the pianoforte in view of the queen?

The duchess had eased some of her worry on that front. She explained that the queen was very much more relaxed at Lady Dudmore's party than she ever would be at one of her palaces. At the Upside Down party, she was able to shake off the rigors of her vast and regimented household. Further, the queen was rather indulgent of young people and sympathized with their concerns. Unlike most older people, she remembered perfectly well what it was to be young, full of hopes and dreams, and not yet knowing how it would all turn out.

After talking of the queen, the duchess had made comment on a few of the other guests who would attend. She seemed to like most of them well enough, though she did find some of their little conceits very amusing.

Jemima was to watch how many times Lady Agatha touched her diamond necklace. It was the lady's pride in life and she always sought to bring attention to it. If nobody made comment on it, she would be very put out.

Lord Ainsby was forever smoking cigars where he ought not to and then trying to hide the evidence. Every hostess who'd ever had him in her house had eventually found a snuffed-out cigar in a vase or behind a book on a shelf. It was no small miracle that he'd not so far burned down somebody's house.

Mrs. Ventriss was an incorrigible flirt and had little insight into her own charms, such as they were. She was a widow with a determination to remarry and was forever setting her sights on someone far too young for her. Last year's chasing around after Lord Varnay had provided endless entertainment.

As for Lord Varnay himself, the duchess deemed him clever and amusing. However, that was all. She understood he was deep in debt and she did not consider him very promising as a husband.

Jemima rather agreed with the duchess' assessment of Lord Varnay. He was clever and amusing, he had shown himself to be an affectionate brother, but he was perhaps a little too carefree or careless. How odd she should think it, though. She'd come into the season looking for just such a gentleman. But then, when she considered putting her life in the hands of an always laughing gentleman who pushed things too far as a habit, it began to seem less of a good idea.

Miss Pickering was, in the duchess' estimation, a rather sad case. She was being guided by a less than careful brother and her dowry was next to nothing. She had only to depend upon her charms, which might not be enough to overcome her circumstances.

Jemima had been very sad to consider Miss Pickering's circumstances. Though, she did think the duchess was wrong in one respect. Certainly, Miss Pickering's charms were enough to compensate for whatever amount of money or lack of it she brought into a union.

They had arrived to the house and found Lady Dudmore an exceedingly jolly lady. She was rather short and comfortably round and her hair was very black for her age, suggesting some enhancements of the dyeing variety. By all appearances, she was delighted to welcome them both into the house. If she had heard anything about Jemima, she did not appear to give a toss about it. She was far too taken up with the arrangements she'd made for the house party.

Jemima and the duchess had been promptly shown to their rooms, which conveniently had a connecting door between them. The duchess said she always had that particular set of rooms and that she would like Jemima to dress first each day and then keep her company while she was dressed. The same in reverse was to happen when they retired. The duchess found dressing very tedious and liked to have company. That seemed to be the totality of Jemima's duties as companion and not particularly onerous.

They had since changed from their traveling clothes and gone downstairs to the drawing room. Everyone had been charged with attending at half past three, as the queen was expected at four.

Jemima was introduced all round to the people she did not already know. It felt a bit embarrassing to meet some of them. It was as if she knew too much about them. Lady Agatha had touched her diamond necklace several times and Jemima had cemented herself into the lady's good graces by commenting that it was an extraordinary piece. Lord Ainsby was always looking about him, as if searching out likely hiding places for the stubs of his cigars. Mrs. Ventriss seemed just as keen on Lord Varnay as she had allegedly been the year before.

Lord Varnay and Miss Pickering had come straight to Jemima's side when she'd entered the drawing room. They had both seemed exceedingly enthusiastic to see her, though Jemima could not help but notice the duchess' rather amused smile as they expressed that enthusiasm.

It was not a minute later that Mrs. Ventriss had flown to Lord Varnay's side. The lady was introduced to Jemima, but it felt as if anyone in the vicinity who was not Lord Varnay might as well sink through the floor for all they were worth noticing.

The duchess was even further amused when Mrs. Ventriss slapped Lord Varnay's arm with her fan and called him a "charming rogue" not once, but twice.

The sudden sound of hoofbeats galloping hard on the drive was heard clearly in the drawing room and the conversation was brought to a hush.

Lady Dudmore said loudly, "That will be one of the queen's household, alerting us to her imminent arrival."

The lady hurried from the room and an awkward silence hung in the air. Jemima had not the first idea of what they were to do when the queen was led in, other than curtsy.

She would employ her usual strategy of curtsying very low and staying down very long.

Lady Dudmore returned to the drawing room. Everyone looked to her expectantly.

She laughed and said, "You will never guess. It was not one of the queen's household, but rather a messenger. It seems the Duke of Barstow will attend us."

Jemima sank down into a chair. Why? Why was the duke coming when her mother had assured her that he'd rather suffer the plague?

"Why is Barstow coming?" Lord Varnay asked. "He never comes."

It was said in an almost petulant tone, which Miss Pickering had surely noticed. She said, "Perhaps the duke has heard of how entertaining the party is."

"He's too stiff to be entertained by it," Lord Varnay said sullenly.

Mrs. Ventriss laughed very abruptly and it sounded entirely forced. "You charming rogue, of course all gentlemen must look stiff compared to our Lord Varnay."

Lord Varnay did not appear to have even heard Mrs. Ventriss and only looked surprised when he received another tap on the arm from the lady's fan.

The duchess' eyebrows were raised just the smallest bit and Jemima guessed she was vastly entertained by it all.

"Barstow comes," the duchess said, "how interesting. I have known him for a very long time and he never does a thing without reason. So, I suppose we will see if his reason for coming is the delights Lady Dudmore has planned or something else entirely."

Jemima understood the duchess' hint well enough. The duchess thought the duke came for her. However, that would not be the case. The duchess may have had luck by setting the Duke of Ralston's house ablaze, but Jemima Fornay would have no luck in setting her dress ablaze. There was a fundamental difference. The Duke of Ralston viewed his lady's actions as stemming from a moment of jealousy. The Duke of Barstow viewed Jemima's actions as stemming from a deranged mind. Of course, the duchess could not know that.

There must be some other reason he'd decided to attend the party. Perhaps the duke wished to be nearby the queen. That really was the more likely reason.

"I predict," Mrs. Ventriss said, "that our Lord Varnay will outshine the duke at all the sporting."

"I intend to provide a humiliating defeat," Lord Varnay muttered.

Miss Pickering laid her hand on her brother's arm. The caution seemed to have some effect.

"In any case," Lord Varnay said, far more cheerfully, "whoever else comes, we can rejoice that we have the company of charming Lady Jemima."

Mrs. Ventriss appeared to take a deep umbrage to that sentiment and Jemima was rather afraid she was about to receive a blow from the lady's ever-assaulting fan.

Lady Dudmore saved the situation by running into the drawing room and crying out, "The queen's carriage approaches!"

She promptly ran back out again.

As had happened during the last false alarm, conversation stopped and all eyes turned toward the doors.

Not many minutes later, Queen Charlotte was led in.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mr. Harkinson paced his set of rooms. The bedchamber and dressing room were not large, and so he found himself turning round rather a lot.

How na?ve he'd been to imagine that all his problems had gone up in a puff of smoke. The League had firmly decided the match between Lady Jemima and the Duke of Barstow was off. He was tasked with convincing his duke and duchess to take Lady Jemima away to allow her further recovery from the head injury she'd never had.

He'd not had to do anything at all on that front. Before he knew it, the Duchess of Ralston had taken the lady off to a house party in Kent.

It was a house party, he'd been assured, that the Duke of Barstow had never attended and never would attend.

All his problems had been whisked away and he'd spent a glorious evening in a state of perfect calm.

He should have known that could not last.

Breakfast had washed away his calm like a retreating tide. One of the housemaids, whose sister was a kitchen maid in Lord Weston's house, which was next door to the Duke of Barstow's house, had relayed alarming information.

It seemed the Duke of Barstow had decided to attend this house party in Kent.

The story was very muddled. It had to do with some fellow who'd supposedly died, and then found not to be dead after all, and this had somehow caused the duke's relocation to Kent.

Mr. Harkinson did not give a toss for who was dead and who wasn't. He did very much give a toss as to why the duke was to be in the same house as Lady Jemima.

They were meant to separated and not even in the same town. Now, they would be in the same house.

Why had the duke really gone? Could it be that he was willing to overlook certain incidents where a lady might have got herself wildly drunk and set herself on fire?

If that was the case, it was because the duke still imagined Lady Jemima would eventually recover from her head injury.

Which she never would because it had never been!

What could he do? Should he inform The League?

Or should he pretend he'd not heard anything about it?

They'd find out sooner or later, though.

Perhaps he should pretend at an attack of the heart, make himself bedridden, and refuse to see visitors?

Mr. Harkinson sat down as a wave of dizziness came over him. At the rate that disasters were coming at him, he might not even have to pretend to be incapacitated and bedridden.

It would be rather a relief to pull his blankets over his eyes and let the world sort itself out without him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Queen Charlotte had come into the drawing room. Everyone sank down into a curtsy or bowed low. Lady Dudmore escorted her to a well-padded chair at the far end of the room. The queen seated herself and examined her court.

"As you all know," Her Majesty said, "We like our time here to be less formal than it would be at court. So, no excess toadying if you please. Now, bring me the young ladies of the party."

Jemima and Miss Pickering looked at one another in alarm. Jemima glanced round and there were several other ladies looking to their chaperones with wide eyes.

Why were they being singled out? Why were they wanted?

She had no idea. However, Jemima decided they'd best avoid looking like a collection of ninnies. She took Miss Pickering's hand and pulled her forward.

They approached the queen and Jemima dropped into the lowest curtsy she'd ever managed, held it as long as she could without falling over, and then rose up.

"That was rather athletic," the queen said, clearly amused at the display.

Other ladies joined and attempted their own low curtsies, though Jemima was confident that none could best her. It was a small accomplishment, but it was something.

"Pull chairs round, ladies," Queen Charlotte said. "I wish to be amused."

They did as they were told, though Jemima could well enough see the trepidation on everyone's faces. How on earth were they supposed to amuse the queen?

As they sat down, all hoping somebody else would know what would be amusing, the queen said, "Ah, what it is to be young. I very much miss it. There was no end to the ridiculous scrapes I got myself into. Each and every one of them seemed the end of the world at the time."

They all nodded vigorously, and Jemima was hopeful that it amused the queen to talk while five young ladies sat round nodding vigorously.

That was not to be.

"I wish to hear of the scrapes you've all got yourself into this season." The queen raised her hand as if to stop one of them from protesting, though it was unlikely anybody had the daring to say a word. "Do not pretend you've not put a foot out of place. I will not believe it. Or, if I did believe it, I would find you a very dull sort of girl."

The queen was determined to hear of the scrapes they'd got themselves into? Had she already heard of Jemima's most recent adventure?

The Duchess of Ralston was prepared to invent a story that would make it all very reasonable, but what if the queen would know it was a story?

"I'll ask you your names and, yes, I realize most of you will have made your curtsy, but I can't be asked to remember everybody. The queen pointed at Lady Rose. "You. Who are you? What have you done to make your parents shudder?"

Lady Rose's complexion very quickly began to resemble her name. She was positively blooming. "Oh? Lady Rose Camden, Your Majesty. Well, I…I did step on Lord Mendleson's toe at Almack's."

The queen sighed. "Hardly a scrape. Now, if he had the gout and collapsed from the pain, that would be a different story. A rather hilarious story. Try stepping on old Lord Restick's toes next time, then you'll hear quite the shout."

Jemima had just been thinking of saying something similar to Lady Rose. She'd thought she might describe a stumble during a dance. Clearly, the queen did not find that sort of thing particularly amusing.

"You. Who are you?" the queen said to Miss Pickering. "I do not recall ever having seen your face."

"Miss Pickering, Your Majesty," Miss Pickering said. "Sister to Viscount Varnay."

Jemima knew that Miss Pickering had not been presented at court. She'd told Jemima that her brother thought it a silly ritual, but Jemima's mother had said that many like Lord Varnay would avoid it because of the exorbitant expense of a court dress that was good for nothing afterward.

"Varnay. I see," the queen said. "Well, what have you done, though I am not certain what would ever shock that gentleman."

"Um, let me see…I did stumble when getting out of my carriage in the park and stain my dress something terribly. From the grass."

The queen frowned. "A shock to your maid, no doubt, though I do not see who else would be up in arms over it."

Her Majesty looked around seeming very unhappy. "I had hoped to be amused. You, with the red hair. I remember seeing that red hair in court. It stuck out."

Jemima nodded. Of course, it did always, as the queen described it, "stick out."

"Do come up with something better than stepping on toes and grass stains," the queen said.

The other ladies looked toward Jemima, all of them seeming faintly terrified. She really did need to say something more amusing than toes and grass.

Perhaps part of a story and not the whole of it would do.

"Your Majesty," she said, "Lady Jemima Fornay. I set my dress on fire at the Duke of Barstow's garden party."

There was a shocked silence from the other young ladies. Miss Pickering looked as if she might fall over.

The queen roared with laughter. "Set yourself on fire, that's very good. You see ladies, that's amusing. Fornay. Gracious, you are Eddelston's daughter, are you not? Your duke must have been apoplectic."

"My father was very kind," Jemima said, unwilling to allow her father to be painted as a beast.

"Was he now?" the queen asked with interest.

"Indeed," Jemima said. "He understood it to be only a circumstance arising from a lady's unfortunate monthly week."

"A lady's unfortunate monthly…is that what I think it is?" the queen said, snorting with laughter. "Now that is amusing."

Jemima was not certain she should have said all that, but somebody needed to say something amusing and the other ladies had not come up with much.

From the far side of the room, a butler announced, "The Duke of Barstow."

"Barstow?" the queen said in surprise. "Well, well, what does he do here?"

Jemima fairly quaked to hear the duke's name spoken and she was wondering just the same.

What did he do here?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jasper had made good time to Kent. He'd rode ahead while Randolph followed with his trunks in the carriage.

Lady Dudmore's windows were ablaze with light and Jasper could see the queen's retinue of carriages still being unloaded of their endless line of trunks.

He'd handed over his reins and went indoors. He was momentarily stymied as to what he should do next. Lady Dudmore had greeted him enthusiastically enough and claimed to have secured him a very good room.

He ought to go up and change out of his riding clothes, but Randolph was still behind and he had nothing to change into. He ought to have packed panniers with something he could put on.

"Come now, Duke," Lady Dudmore said, "you cannot hide above stairs while we are all jolly in the drawing room. Nobody shall mind your clothes."

Jasper was not certain of that. But then, Lady Jemima was in there somewhere, and so was Varnay.

After having a consultation with Lady Dudmore regarding the seating arrangements at dinner, he determined to go in.

As he entered, he was greeted with an alarming, but not unwelcome, sight. Several young ladies, including Lady Jemima, were sat in chairs round the queen as if they were ladies-in-waiting.

He made his way there and bowed low. "Your Majesty."

"Barstow," the queen said.

"My apologies for my dress, Your Majesty," he said. "My clothes have still to arrive."

"It is a country party, I do not give a toss for your attire. What is more interesting is if I'd had to guess at your current location, the last place I would have guessed was here. Why do you come?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well, I…"

"Oh never mind," the queen said. "It will amuse me to guess at it over the coming days. Let us see what the Duke of Barstow's reasons are and if he can hide them from me."

A gong sounded from the great hall. Jasper knew well enough that Lady Dudmore used a gong to mark the time. That would be the signal that it was the moment to retire and change for dinner. If only he had something to change into.

The queen rose and everyone else hopped to their feet. As Her Majesty made her way toward the door, the bows and scrapes commenced. There were so many in attendance who came for the sole purpose of being able to in future languidly mention that they had last wore a dress/ heard something so amusing/had such a fine dinner with the queen.

Once the queen had disappeared out the doors, the atmosphere in the room decidedly relaxed. A chatter rose up.

Jasper took his opportunity. "Lady Jemima," he said.

"Duke," she answered. "We are all surprised to see you here."

"Are you surprised?"

Lady Jemima's cheeks went purple, as they were wont to do. He really did not know how she made it look charming, as the color was not, in itself, particularly flattering.

"Yes, rather," she said.

"Lady Jemima," a voice said behind him. It was the voice that irritated Jasper to America and back. Varnay.

"May I escort you up?" Varnay said.

"You certainly may not," Jasper said. "If anyone will escort the lady, I will do it."

The Duchess of Ralston stepped in. "Neither of you will do it. What in the world are you thinking of to propose escorting a single lady above stairs? Do not ever let me hear such nonsense again."

Of course, the duchess was right. No gentleman ought to be escorting Lady Jemima above stairs, that was what she had a chaperone for. He was only trying to stop Varnay from taking the liberty.

"Of course, Your Grace," Varnay said smoothly. "Naturally, I only meant to the bottom of the stairs."

"Then where did the "up" come from?" the duchess asked with narrowed eyes.

"Uh, um, an awkward turn of phrase," Varnay said.

"Come, Lady Jemima," the duchess said, holding out her arm. "Let us leave these two gentlemen to reflect on their manners."

With that, the duchess sailed from the room with Lady Jemima in tow.

Jasper wanted to punch Varnay in the face. Then again, he almost always wished to punch Varnay in the face.

Varnay, for his part, seemed unscathed by the duchess' wrath. "Come sister," he said, "I will escort you above stairs. Certainly there cannot be anything wrong in that."

Miss Pickering rose and curtsied. "Your Grace," she said softly, before being pulled out of the room by her brother.

Well, that arrival had not gone particularly as planned. Now all he could do was retreat to his room and hope Randolph turned up with his clothes.