Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The following morning dawned bright and cheerful. It was almost an antidote for the scolding she had received from her mother the previous evening.

“What were you thinking?” her mother had scolded. “Out in a garden in your best clothing. Really, Lenora, will you ever grow up?”

Lenora put all that behind her. It was too early in the season for biting insects to be out. There was a light breeze. “It is such a lovely day, is it not?” Lenora asked Miss Tunstall. “Just listen to the birds singing.”

“All seeking a spouse, I should imagine,” Miss Tunstall commented, checking her image in Lenora’s looking glass.

Lenora gave a little laugh. “It is not to be wondered at on so fine a day. I think I shall put on my gray merino this morning. We could go walking after breakfast.”

“Alone?” Miss Tunstall pretended to be scandalized by the thought.

“No. With you, of course,” Lenora said. Then she heaved a huge sigh. “It would be nice, of course, if a friend or two would stop by.”

“Would you be hoping for a gentleman friend?” Miss Tunstall teased.

Lenora flashed an impish smile at her. “Why ever not? But failing that, a lady near my own age would do, even though it means trailing two chaperones along.” She opened the bedroom window wide. “Ah, just smell that wonderful air. I am so glad my sisters chose to have their weddings in Bath. The Thames would already reek of sewage, even so early in the season.”

“No doubt you are right,” Miss Tunstall said. “Shall I do up your hair, or would you rather have the maid?”

“You can, if you would not mind,” Lenora said. “Just a braid, done up in a knot.”

“Will you be wearing your special hat?” Miss Tunstall asked.

Lenora thought of the towering confection of lace and ribbons she had sold off her winter clothing to obtain. Then she shook her head. “No, I don’t want a lot of fuss and bother today. I’ll wear my chip hat. The sun is not so bright that I shall want a brim.”

“Then I’ll keep the braid low on the back of your neck,” Miss Tunstall said as she ran a brush down the back of Lenora’s hair. “Although,” she added, “it might be easier to dress your hair if you will stop hanging half out the window. It shows a great lack of decorum, especially since you are still in your wrapper.”

Lenora laughed and pulled herself back into the room. She was rather fond of her wrapper, although it was beginning to be a trifle shabby. It was a blue brocade, with soft lambswool on the collar and cuffs. “You can scarcely tell it from a pelisse at this distance,” she protested.

“But you know that it is not, and so do I,” Miss Tunstall rebuked her. “If your mother catches sight of you, she will know precisely what you are wearing.”

“Sadly true,” Lenora said.

Miss Tunstall drew back to give Lenora a chance to make her way to the dressing table where she could sit on a stool that was exactly the right height for working on her hair. Since Lenora only used a light application of sweet oil on her hair, rather than the heavier oils and powder, it took only a short while to brush the worst of the night tangles from it, then to use a comb to section it off into thirds for braiding.

Once her hair was in a sleek coil, Lenora slipped out of her wrapper and donned a short corset over her chemise. “Not too tight,” she directed Miss Tunstall. “I hope to be active today, and I would like to breathe.”

“How fortunate it is that you do not require close corseting,” Miss Tunstall said as she did up Lenora’s laces, then helped her fasten up her stockings before sliding her petticoats over her corset cover. Finally, she eased the prized gray merino over Lenora’s head. She then gave her charge’s hair a final smooth.

Lenora checked herself in the looking glass, turning this way and that. Then she sighed. “It will have to do. I do hope Father finishes his book soon and gets paid for it. Then we can buy some new clothes. I’ve worn these so often; I swear they are about to fall off me.”

“Tsk,” Miss Tunstall clicked her tongue at her. “None of your garments are so far gone as all that. Your mother would never hear of it. Indeed, your father has been known to complain that clothing the ladies in his family is one of his greatest expenses.”

“Ha!” Lenora exclaimed. “I happen to know that August’s wardrobe cost nearly double mine.”

“Surely not,” Miss Tunstall protested.

“Surely, yes. I was with Mother the day we took him to the tailor, and I saw the bill. Although,” she added charitably, “perhaps it is because he has grown so tall and filled out this year. It takes a great deal of fabric to cover my brother decently.”

“Just so,” Miss Tunstall said. “I do wonder what is for breakfast?”

Breakfast turned out to be a thin porridge flavoured with dried berries and honey. The tea was a garden variety from a local farm. Its minty flavour helped make up for the thin porridge, which could scarcely be said to have any flavour at all.

Lenora held her spoon over her bowl and watched the thin substance slide off it. “I did think we would be eating better when we returned home,” she said. “But this is scarcely an improvement over what we were served in the rooming house near where Father was doing his research.”

“It is good for you,” Lady Temple said. “Eat it up and be glad of it. There are many people right here in Bath who would be happy to have it.”

“Then perhaps I should take it to them immediately,” Lenora said pertly.

Her mother gave her a stern look.

Lenora sighed and spooned a bit of the thin stuff into her mouth. One could scarcely call it a bite since it was more nearly the consistency of thin soup. “This would be better if it were made with milk instead of water,” she commented.

Lady Temple sighed. “The dairyman tells me that most of the cows went dry because of the poor fodder. Several of the older ones were sent to the butcher because it made more sense than letting them starve. He says that we should have milk again in a few weeks, providing the herd is not stricken by illness.”

“Could that happen?” Lenora asked.

“It could,” Lady Temple replied. “I remember one summer when it was not safe to drink milk from any cow. We had goat cheese instead.”

“Goat cheese is delicious,” Lenora said. “Perhaps we could have some of that instead of this dreadful gruel.”

“Your porridge is nourishing,” Lady Temple said. “It will give you strength.”

Lenora sighed, but not so loudly that her mother would notice. When Lady Temple fixed her attention on something August said, she picked up the bowl and drank down the thin concoction. When her mother turned back around, Lenora was serenely sipping her tea.

“You’d best have not fed your portion to the dog,” Lady Temple scolded her daughter.

“I ate it quickly,” Lenora said, “so I could enjoy my tea. I do wish we had some biscuits to go with it.”

“We should have had, but the cook was distracted and got the fire too hot,” August explained.

That explained the thin porridge. Her mother would not ordinarily have tolerated such a poor breakfast. But cooking disasters did happen. Idly, Lenora wondered what had distracted the cook, who ordinarily made delicious meals on a tiny budget.

They were just leaving the table when the doorbell rang. They could hear the maid’s light footsteps in the hall. A moment later, she appeared at the dining room door. “There is a gentleman at the door who would like to know if Miss Temple is receiving visitors.”

“Who is he?” Lady Temple asked.

“He didn’t give his name, but here is his card,” the maid replied.

Lady Temple took it. “Ah, Lord Whitchurch. Isn’t he the one you were swooning over, Lenora?”

“I said he cut a fine figure and was well-spoken. No swooning came into it,” Lenora protested.

“Good,” her mother said. “I’m glad to hear it. You should beware of gentlemen who are too fine, for they often have hidden flaws.”

“Really, Mother,” Lenora protested. “I do think him an excellent gentleman, and his reputation is good. I should think you would be glad to have a suitor of his calibre calling on me.”

Lady Temple looked thoughtful and a little sad. “Handsome is as handsome does,” she said. “It is wise to beware of gentlemen who are too popular. They grow accustomed to the adulation.”

“Don’t you want me to marry?” Lenora asked.

“Oh, daughter. I do, and I do not. I had hoped we would have a little time together now that your sisters are off my hands. But here you are, already about to be whisked away.”

“I am sure my future husband and I will live close enough for visits,” Lenora said. “A marriage is not like climbing into a coffin and pulling the lid closed.”

Lady Temple simply shook her head at Lenora, then said, “Come. We will receive him in the small drawing room.

In a few minutes, they were in the drawing room. The maid showed Lord Whitchurch in.

“Good morning,” he said. “I hope I find you all in good health?”

“Yes, quite,” Lady Temple said. “You are out early, Lord Whitchurch.”

“Not too early, I hope,” he said, alarm showing on his face. “I had hoped to ask Miss Temple out for a walk.”

“Where do you plan to walk?” Lady Temple asked.

“Around the park,” Lord Whitchurch said. “If that will be all right?”

“That seems an acceptable plan,” Lady Temple said. “if my daughter wishes it.”

“It is a lovely morning for a walk,” Lenora temporized. “It would be good to get some fresh air.”

“Then it is settled,” Lady Temple said. “Go fetch your hat. Miss Tunstall will accompany you, of course.”

“Of course,” Lenora said.

In a very few minutes, they were out the door and strolling towards the park. Lenora walked beside Lord Whitchurch while Miss Tunstall trailed along behind.

Lord Whitchurch moderated his stride to her shorter steps but otherwise walked as straight and stiff as a soldier on parade. Lenora was extremely conscious of the envious looks cast their way by various ladies who passed them by. She wanted to dance a jig and shout, “He asked me! I’ve stolen a march on you!” But, of course, she did nothing of the kind. She walked demurely by his side, savouring her moment of triumph.

She was so lost in her little revelry that she was startled when Lord Whitchurch spoke to her. “How is it that you know Dorian and Mr Holt?”

Lenora thought a moment. “I’ve known them forever. My father and Dorian’s father were good friends, so it is only natural that we should know each other. The friendship continued after Mr Holt became his guardian.”

“That makes sense,” Lord Whitchurch replied. “You and Dorian are good friends, then?”

“Like brother and sister. We grew up together, you see, got each other into trouble and sometimes out of it again.”

“What kind of trouble?” Lord Whitchurch asked.

“Well,” Lenora drew the word out, thinking what she could say. “There was the time Dorian pushed me because he didn’t like something I said. Which wouldn’t have been that bad, but I stumbled backwards and fell in the brook at one of the deep parts. I can’t swim, so he plunged in and quickly pulled me out. Good thing, too, because I was quickly floating towards the millstream.”

“In and out again,” he smiled at Lenora. “Yes, I see how that would be. So then, what did you do?”

“We were both soaked, so we found a sunny bank where we could lie down on the moss and dry out. It took us a good long while, and we were both still a little damp and dishevelled when we got home. Everyone thought we’d been playing in the brook on purpose, which was forbidden since it was in full spate.”

Lord Whitchurch laughed heartily at that. “Yes, I can see how that would be. Confined to your rooms with bread and water?”

“Of course,” Lenora said. “And on my sisters’ birthday, too. They sneaked me some tea and cake afterwards, but I was a very sad girl for several hours. What was your childhood like?”

“Pretty much like everyone else’s, I suppose,” Lord Whitchurch replied. “Nanny until I was three or four, then a tutor. I received a pony for my birthday when I was six and rode in the company of my tutor and a pair of armed guards every chance I got.”

“Why the guards?” Lenora asked, thinking it an odd custom.

“We were in India for many of my growing up years,” Lord Whitchurch explained. “There was not a great deal of unrest among the natives, but it was still imprudent for a boy and a non-combatant to ride about unattended. The soldiers were usually youngsters newly arrived at the outpost. Riding about with me gave them a chance to learn the area.”

“Did you become friends?” Lenora asked.

Lord Whitchurch gave a ghost of a shrug. “I rarely got to know them that well before they were sent on. But I did become good friends with my pony and later my horse. They, at least, were constants in my life.”

“I love horses, too,” Lenora said enthusiastically. “And I know exactly what you mean about being better friends with your horse than most people. Perhaps we should go riding sometime?”

“Perhaps,” he said, offering his arm. They walked in silence for a short while.

“Tell me,” he enquired, “Do you often help Dorian at the hospital?”

“Not really,” Lenora said. “The last time I was there his uncle had forbidden visitors to the wards because he was afraid of some sort of contagion.”

“I see,” Lord Whitchurch said. “That is odd. I’ve not heard of any in the area.”

“I don’t know,” Lenora commented. “I truly do not keep track of such things. Perhaps his daughter, Miss Holt, might have some thoughts on the subject.”

“Perhaps I should ask her,” Lord Whitchurch murmured. “In all events, it is growing late. Perhaps I should walk you back to your home.”

Lenora felt a little disappointed. But she said, “Of course. It has been a lovely walk. It is very good to get out and about.”