Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

June 1811

Three years later…

Evangeline only stopped to hand her bonnet and pelisse to the attending footman before stepping up the grand staircase of Fernsby Hall and making her way to the chambers of mistress of the house. She gave a little knock and opened the door without invitation. She was expected.

"Evangeline, welcome. I am so glad to see you," said Lady Fernsby, reclining on a stuffed divan. She lifted a languid hand to welcome her guest. "Forgive me, I cannot stand up just now."

"Do not give it a thought, Georgie," Evangeline replied, coming swiftly over to her cousin's side and kneeling. She clasped Georgie's hand and pressed it to her cheek. "How are you feeling? Wretched, I'll warrant. You are so pale."

Georgie gave a faint nod. "Wretched, exhausted, and any other horrid word that may come to your mind, I am. But the relief I feel knowing you are here is almost a cure. And your dress brightens the day even more. What a shocking hue!"

"Isn't it?" Evangeline said. She spread her arms out to better display the magenta morning dress. It had come from the modiste's just in time for her journey here. "I am excessively pleased with it."

Georgie gave a weak chuckle. "I would not dare wear such a color. How can you stand the stares you get over your gowns? Last month I heard Mr. Brummel myself say that you will send his sensibilities into an early grave if he had to look upon you another season."

Evangeline's eyes sparkled as she laughed. "The Beau and I are on the best of terms, really. But doing everything I can to make him shudder while everyone watches, that is half the fun, I assure you."

Over the years, Evangeline had taken delight in filling her wardrobe with every color that could be imagined and dyed into the muslins, taffetas, and silks she purchased. The ton , not that she had much to do with them these days, had chosen to be amused by her sudden shift from obedient, perfect wife and hostess to vivacious, eccentric widow. Once a leader of fashion (only thanks to her late husband's insistence and the small army of maids, dressers, jewelers, hairdressers and modistes who accomplished all the work of making her up like a doll), people now looked to her as a source of amusement, wondering what she would don on next. Their reactions to the outfits that clashed so with her complexion and hair gave her endless amusement.

She focused her attention back on Georgie. "And I hope you will put me to work and think of nothing but feeling better yourself. How long have you felt ill?"

Georgie sighed. "From the beginning. It was the first hint I had of my condition." She rested a hand on her stomach and gave a pointed look to Evangeline. "One knows , you know."

Evangeline nodded with a sympathetic grimace. "None better than I, my dear. But it should pass soon."

"I expect it will. But I don't mind telling you, cousin, that this is the worst illness I have had so far, and it is only the third child. Does it get worse every time? Was it so with you? Fernsby is expecting a large family."

"I felt it with my last three," Evangeline said. "But you should be feeling more the thing in the next few weeks, I should think."

Georgie sighed. "I hope so. We have been planning this house party for the better part of six months and have economized so much to afford it. I've not ordered a single new gown or purchased anything but what is necessary for months!"

Evangeline felt this deeply. "That is a sacrifice."

"And now that this has happened—" Georgie swept an arm down her body. "I cannot even enjoy the company as I should like. I may feel well enough by the end of our guests' stay, but to be holed up in my bedchamber with a basin always within reach while everyone is enjoying themselves is just too bad. Thank you for coming to play hostess for me. I do not know what I should do without you, E. And to leave Amsbrook for me! I know how you love it so, especially in the summer with all your children."

But Evangeline laughed. "All my children, you say? They have all abandoned me. The older three have all been invited to one friend or another's household for various parts of the summer, and my sister invited the four youngest to stay for a month in Devonshire."

"Even Adele?"

Evangeline nodded. If it had been anyone other than her own sister, Evangeline would not have entertained sending her six-year-old away for a moment. Adele had never been parted from her for more than a few days. She had always remained at Amsbrook, with Haney to look after her. Evangeline had sent Haney and Miss Pitt with the children, but she could not help feeling anxious over the fear Adele might have over such a new experience.

"I am even more glad you are here, then," Georgie said. "You would have been so lonely without your darlings."

"Positively fallen into a decline. I would have made sure of it," replied Evangeline. "Now, are you up to telling me your plans? You mentioned some of it in your last letter, but who is arriving when? What rooms shall they have? What entertainments have you prepared?"

"Should you like to rest? You have only just arrived. A little refreshment, perhaps?" Georgie pressed a handkerchief scented with lavender to her forehead. "I should have asked you first thing. This increasing has stripped me of all my manners."

"Rest? No, thank you. Amsbrook is only fifteen miles from here. The journey was nothing. Do tell me the details. Unless you need to rest yourself?"

Georgie shook her head. "I can tell you now. A little, at all events. Hand me those papers on my vanity, will you? I was looking over them before I had to lie down."

The papers—filled with lists and notes—retrieved, Evangeline settled herself on the floor, leaning on the divan while Georgie showed her the papers' contents.

"The most important thing is that there have been some changes to the guest list. The Thornes have been obliged to cry off. Mr. Thorne's ailing father keeps them in town for now. And Mr. Morley is coming, though I have no idea where I shall put him. Most of the single gentlemen are doubling in rooms together already."

Evangeline's brow snapped together. "Morley is coming? What on earth could Fernsby want with him? I thought you said this was to be a politically inclined house party?"

Nearly all the guests had seats in either the House of Lords or House of Commons. Lord Fernsby was an adamant Whig and had a finger in several pies in the political realm. For him, this house party was no more than an opportunity to influence his fellow Parliament members to vote for the agendas he supported.

Georgie only shrugged. "I do not know. Fernsby only told me yesterday that he was coming and that I was to accommodate him. He is so droll, though. He will provide a respite from all the dry talk that is sure to happen."

Evangeline tapped her lip with a finger. "So, we have lost the Thornes, but gained Mr. Morley. That makes the numbers uneven for dinner, of course."

"Exactly. We shall have to find a single dinner guest among our neighbors most evenings, I suppose."

So, Basil was coming, was he? Evangeline did not know whether to be put out or amused at the news. Little had changed with him. Everyone said he was still the same scapegrace he had been for years now, indulging in every gentlemanly vice available, flirting outrageously with any willing female . Perhaps only a little settled down in his revelry as he added years to his age.

Another thing that had not changed was his determined wooing and courtship of her. But that thought always brought a smile to her lips. Oh, the fun they had, dancing through this strange friendship that had developed between them. They had been friends before her widowhood, of course, but after his comical declaration that day in Grosvenor Square, their relationship had taken on a sort of competitiveness that not only amused them greatly, but everyone around them.

Who would win, the whole of society wondered? Would Basil Morley finally wear down the defenses the magnificent Lady Ramsbury had flung up to him and every other man trying to win her hand and wealth? Or would he finally, after such a long campaign, admit defeat?

And now she was to spend nearly a month with him in the same house while trying to keep order and propriety as hostess. While the house party was of a political turn, Lord and Lady Fernsby had also invited several young ladies. Evangeline knew that more than one chaperone was seeking to obtain an engagement for her young charge before the summer was out.

What had Fernsby been thinking, inviting Basil? Any chaperone worth her salt would keep her charge well away from the man if there was a sizable dowry attached. Evangeline could only shake her head at inviting a rake and fortune hunter with his charming ways and irresistible smiles to a house full of young, impressionable ladies. She did not think he would pursue any of them in earnest, but she had seen more than one girl succumb to even a small flirtatious remark from him. Evangeline would have her work cut out for her.

"But where to put him?" Georgie asked, puzzling over the list of rooms and their occupants.

Evangeline leaned over and studied the names on the paper, cocking a brow. Including the hosts, there were now fifteen people to house. "This will be a rather tight squeeze. I am almost glad that the Thornes cried off. There would be no room for them, unless they consented to bedding in the closets. "

Georgie grimaced. "Yes, Fernsby was very particular that we invite as many as would accept. But now Mr. Morley and the Thornes have thrown all my plannings topsy turvey."

Evangeline arched her brow. "Put him with Mr. Camden in the room off the kitchen garden."

"Mr. Camden? Oh, I couldn't possibly. Mr. Camden very particularly asked to have a room to himself, if possible. He said he didn't care how small it was."

"And I know you would oblige him if you could, but now that Lord Fernsby has invited Mr. Morley, it is not possible. That is that."

Georgie raised her brows and pursed her lips. "But I shall be blamed for it."

"You forget, dearheart. I shall be blamed for it," Evangeline replied, merriment in her eyes. "Mr. Camden is everything respectable, but with two barons, a baronet, and their respective entourages to accommodate, he cannot expect much, you know."

Which was not very fair. If title and position gave way to one's character and integrity, Mr. Camden would be placed in the best rooms at Fernsby Hall. But as he was only the son of a country gentleman and relied on the patronage and sponsorship of those more powerful in his party, he was at the bottom of the pecking order when it came to comfortable quarters at a house party. And now the mild man had to share with Basil.

Poor fellow.

Evangeline stayed talking with Georgie only a few minutes more before Georgie's drooping eyelids told her it was time to speak with the housekeeper and put these plans into action. This she did over tea and refreshments, which both women enjoyed greatly. Evangeline knew what an undertaking Mrs. Farnsworth was about to take on, and she was eager to reassure the older woman that Evangeline would not shirk from her duties as hostess, promising to do everything in her power with the carte-blanche Lord Fernsby had given her to ensure the household staff was taken care of as well as the guests. "For without you all, this endeavor would be quite sunk," she had exclaimed to Mrs. Farnsworth.

Coming away from the meeting, Evangeline felt sure she had won the approval of one of the most vital allies she had. There was nothing left but to get settled into her own room. Perhaps a little rest would be beneficial before she dressed for dinner. It was not a formal thing tonight, with only her and Lord and Lady Fernsby. The guests would start arriving the day after tomorrow. So, with papers and lists still in hand, Evangeline went into Georgie's adjoining bedchamber where she and her cousin would sleep. Dobbs was there occupied with unpacking.

"Do not give me a thought, Dobbs, not yet. I only want my book." Evangeline replied when asked if there was anything she needed. Dobbs handed her the novel she had packed. "I shall just rest a while in the gallery. The view is wonderful, and such peaceful moments of respite will be rare after tonight."

The gallery looked over the front of the house and its well-manicured park. Evangeline went to an upholstered chair situated in front of one of the tall windows to sit, but enticed by the view, she stood a moment, looking out to the grounds of Fernsby Hall.

Immaculately kept lawns and drives, a massive stone fountain in the middle of a large patch of green in the center of the courtyard, and out in the distance, little romantic patches of carefully planned wildernesses gave pleasure to the eye. In the distance, she spotted a rider on the lane that led to the wrought iron gates but thought nothing of it. A messenger or tradesman delivering an order, no doubt. There would be several of those in the coming weeks.

She sighed and wished her children were there to admire the grounds with her. She had expected to pass a quiet summer at Amsbrook with everyone together—indeed, would stay there forever if she could stop time. She had not known Henry had made plans with his school fellows until the night before he had left (a disagreeable surprise according to Evangeline, a thoughtful notification according to Henry).

Ettie and Charlotte had been invited away to a cousin's house in Norfolk for several weeks. Evangeline had planned on accompanying the rest of her children to Devonshire at her sister's, but when Georgie's urgent request had come, she'd made her excuses and flown to Fernsby. Her younger sister had been more than happy to have the children stay.

Evangeline pressed her lips into a wistful smile. So many changes. If she had no one to think of but herself, she should be content to stay in Hertfordshire the year round, hardly stirring from her little sanctuary. But her children must be educated, and while her four sons had their tutor, with Eton and Cambridge following close behind, she diligently brought her daughters up to town each year to benefit from the masters of dancing, singing, painting, and language that only London could provide.

Shaking her head over these reminisces, she was about to turn from the window and settle into the chair when her eyes passed over the approaching rider once more. Closer now, she could make him out a bit better. Not a tradesman or messenger, she could see. His clothes were too fine and the beaver he wore on his head too high to be anything but a gentleman's hat. A social caller? Squinting, she trained her eyes on the man's face. No one was expected for another two days. Who could possibly…

She gasped. "You cannot be serious," she exclaimed, straightening up and putting her hands on her hips, outraged at the very sight.

The door to Georgie's bedchamber opened, and Dobbs stepped into the gallery. "What is it, m'lady? Are you well?" Dobbs asked, coming to the window. "Who's that?"

Evangeline shook her head, fuming inside. "He would. If anyone would do it, it would be him."

"Who, m'lady?"

Evangeline turned and headed to the staircase. "Basil Morley."