Morning Calls

MORNING CALLS

Juliana

Visitors flooded our drawing room, delighting Margaret, who missed busy London society. Footmen wore a path in the Turkey carpet bringing tea.

Many of the callers were doyens of the town, eager to inspect the woman who had risen from solicitor's daughter to countess. But I felt not much different from when I had left Rochester ten years before. Truth be told, I felt younger than I had while I was married, as if the fetters that held me kept me in perpetual winter. Now I was in quickening spring.

Now only a few remained. Sipping my tea and ruminating, I lost track of my guests and their conversation.

When Mr. Townsend cleared his throat to capture my attention, I nearly upset my cup. He took it from my hand and set it on a small table, then held out a silver salver. On it lay two small, rectangular calling cards on ivory pasteboard. My eye caught the illustrations of a planet and telescope that belonged to the viscount. The other, decorated with a horse and a dog, announced his cousin, Mr. Ralph Hodgson .

Margaret craned her neck in a very unladylike manner, avid to see whom the visitors might be. Ignoring her, I said, "You may show them in, Townsend."

Lady Willoughby and her daughters, Miss Willoughby and Mrs. Fanshawe, were still in attendance but now rose.

"What a delightful afternoon, Lady Claremont. Thank you so much."

The women walked out with Mr. Townsend in attendance, and I heard them greet the men waiting in the hall. I could imagine the conversations that mother and daughters would have on their way home, after a sight of two eligible bachelors new to the neighborhood.

Then I retrieved my cup and took a sip of my now tepid beverage. Thoughts of viewing the night sky through a telescope and the unexpected kiss sent flares of fire through me. I told myself I was merely eager to engage Kintleford on the comet that had appeared in the night sky only a sen'night before. I had wanted to ask his thoughts at dinner the other evening but was not able to do so.

Both men bowed and took seats. Mr. Hodgson sat near Margaret, fixing her with an intense gaze. The viscount took a chair closer to me and fumbled with something in his pocket. But before he had a chance to speak, Townsend rushed in.

"My lady—it is too bad—against all manner, all decorum. What shall I do? I shut the door in his face, but he is hammering on it and crying out in the street. I dare not bid him enter—he is wild, wild like a ravening wolf—such a scene! It will bring down opprobrium on Mr. Beauvillier. He may cause harm. Oh, please, my lady, shall I send a footman to bring a constable to take him away?"

Townsend, usually so cool, was tearing at his hair, face twisted in anguish. I took a breath but got no farther than "Calm yourself," before Viscount Kintleford jumped out of his seat and took the butler by the arm.

"Lead on," he said in a bracing tone. "I will help you deal with this fellow. "

"He brandished a pistol," cried our now hapless butler.

"You can stay here, man. Come, Ralph. We will manage."

Margaret's hands covered her eyes. "Do be careful, Mr. Hodgson. You would not look well with a lead ball through your coat."

With determined strides, the two men left the room. We heard the door open.

"Who is the intruder, Townsend?" I asked as I tried to quell the uneasy feeling in my breast.

"My son, Jacob," he moaned miserably.

A hoarse cry penetrated from the doorstep. "Kintleford, I knew I would find you here. Stand aside and let me pass."

"Perhaps. Put your weapon and threatening manner aside. Doubtless Lady Claremont does not permit firearms in her drawing room. And if you have a visiting card, I can fetch Townsend to bring it to her."

A derisive snort, then the voice boomed. "Townsend, my esteemed father and a coward of the first water."

A scuffle of boots sounded from the floor of the foyer.

Our butler recovered himself. "I am so sorry, my lady. I will proffer my resignation to your father upon his return this evening."

This was interrupted by the appearance of Jacob Townsend at the entrance to the drawing room, Viscount Kintleford grasping his arm as Ralph Hodgson fought to wrestle the pistol out of his hand. Successful, Ralph waved it in the air, then slipped it into a pocket.

"Wait please, gentlemen," I said. ‘I would like Mr. Townsend to explain himself."

I stood and came over to the pinioned solicitor. "Why invade the premises, sir?"

"I was making a morning call. This varlet," he indicated Townsend, "denied me entrance."

"With a firearm?" The viscount's lazy tone exhibited a sarcastic edge.

Jacob fumbled in his waistcoat pocket and brought out a visiting card, bent at the corners as if he had carelessly shoved it into the small space with no thought for its condition .

A footman, seemingly oblivious to the commotion, arrived with a fresh tea tray and handed the cups to the company. All of the men sat, while the butler slunk out the door. Down to the kitchen, I guessed, to apprise his wife of their changed circumstances.

And then, my father appeared …