Chapter Nineteen

Morvoren

The first dancing lesson was organized for the day after the debacle of the early morning ride. Morvoren and Ysella rose early for another ride but confined themselves to riding sidesaddle, like proper young ladies, under the escort of one of the grooms. From the amused look on his face, it was evident this young man knew all about their adventure of the previous day.

After breakfast at ten, Kit informed them he planned to spend the morning with Sam Beauchamp again, but that after a light mid-day repast, he and Sam would be at Ysella and Morvoren's service for the better part of the afternoon.

Morvoren had a few doubts about this. Did she want to spend time in Kit's company when he made her feel so… so what? She couldn't put her finger on the fluttering that disturbed her stomach whenever she caught him looking at her, and when he so pointedly looked away. Could it be desire? Did she fancy him? Could she be falling in love with someone who'd died two hundred years before she was born? Was that even possible? He was undeniably good looking, after all, and she liked him. But why was she feeling this way about someone who didn't seem to like her back very much, probably found her an infernal nuisance, and was likely ruing the day he'd offered his help.

From an upstairs window, Morvoren watched Kit and Sam ride out to visit some of the estate tenants, whom, he'd informed her and Ysella, were in need of the sort of help they'd so very kindly donated to the young seamstresses and their families—at his own expense. Had there been a glint of wry humor in his dark eyes as he said this?

He sat his horse well, riding with a loose ease that Sam Beauchamp, an altogether more solid young man, didn't possess. As though, perhaps, he'd been born in the saddle, which he well might have been as his mother was so experienced a horsewoman. The way he rode, even though now only at a jog trot, reminded Morvoren of Ysella's style—relaxed and natural with a hint of recklessness to any possible injury.

She continued to watch the two very different young men until the track they were following reached the woodland and the trees swallowed them.

Now what? Ysella had informed her at breakfast that her mother wished them both to join her in the morning room, so it was with nervous steps that Morvoren now made her way there.

Ysella was already seated with some needlework in her lap and a faraway expression on her face, and Lady Ormonde, too, was engaged in some kind of sewing related activity. Unfortunately, sewing had never been Morvoren's thing. When you could buy clothes ready made for very little money and wear them a few times before you threw them away, what was the point of learning to sew?

She made an elegant curtsey to Lady Ormonde and her apologies for being late, then sat down beside Ysella, peering at what she was stitching. No way could she sew with such neat, tiny stitches. No way could she sew. Full stop.

"It's a bonnet for my sister Meliora's baby," Ysella explained. "Mama is embroidering the gown, and I am to work the bonnet for the child."

Aha. For the sister who was pregnant. Morvoren kept her mouth shut about that though, as no doubt her knowledge and choice of words would more than shock Lady Ormonde.

"Perhaps you would like to embroider a kerchief," Lady Ormonde said, holding out a square of white muslin. "It should not overtax you."

What? Was she a mind reader?

Better to be honest. "I'm afraid," Morvoren said, choosing her words carefully, "that you would not like my stitching as it's never been something I've practiced. In short, I don't know how to sew."

"Lucky you," Ysella whispered.

Lady Ormonde looked nonplussed, as well she might. Presumably, sewing was a thing all girls did in this time period. To occupy their time. Although the added bonus of providing new clothes for babies must be useful too.

"Perhaps you paint, or play the piano?"

There was a solid no coming on those two pastimes as well. Morvoren tried a winning and apologetic smile. "I'm afraid not. My skill at drawing is similar to that of a six-year-old, I'm afraid, and I've never learned to paint. Art was not a subject I studied while at school. And I'm afraid I'm tone deaf and unable to play any instrument." She paused. "I do admit it's one of the things I would change about myself if I could—I'd love to be able to sing in tune, and be just a little bit musical."

Lady Ormonde's brown eyes, so like Kit's and Ysella's, widened. "Tell me, Morvoren, what did you learn at school then?" Her tone of reprimand had gone and pure curiosity had taken its place, as though she were genuinely interested.

Morvoren's parents had sent her to a fee-paying school where she'd had an excellent all-round education—for the twenty-first century, but maybe not for the early nineteenth. "I'm afraid I learned a lot of things you might not find all that useful. I studied maths, which was my favorite subject, along with English and biology." Those had been her A level choices, but explaining that to someone in 1811 lay beyond her.

Lady Ormonde fastened on the one she presumably knew the best. "English, as in reading books, or perhaps how to keep a journal?"

Not quite, but Morvoren nodded, glad she'd found something to approve. "I am very fond of reading."

Lady Ormonde smiled back quite kindly. "Then perhaps you would care to read aloud while Ysella and I sew, as that is always a pleasant accompaniment to industry." She didn't wait for an answer. "Ysella, perhaps you will run to the library and select a suitable book."

Ysella dropped her sewing with alacrity and hurried off. In a few minutes she was back, armed with a leather-bound volume. Belinda, by Maria Edgeworth. Not something Morvoren had ever heard of. She'd been half-hoping for a Jane Austen, but maybe 1811 was a little early for something of hers.

She opened the book, cleared her throat, and began to read. "Mrs. Stanhope, a well-bred woman, accomplished in that branch of knowledge which is called the art of rising in the world, had, with but a small fortune, contrived to live in the highest company."

And so, until the promised light repast at lunchtime, she sat and read aloud to Ysella and her mother as they busily stitched at the baby garments, with all the while the rather interesting prospect of learning to dance with Kit looming for the afternoon's entertainment.

*

Kit

How had hegot himself entangled with Ysella's plans to teach Morvoren to dance? And how had poor Sam been roped into them as well? Kit and Sam were riding back up the slope toward the house after a busy morning visiting some of his oldest tenants, checking roofs were watertight and finding out which of the inhabitants were in financial straits. He was returning with his purse a sight emptier than it had been when he set off, but at least he had some satisfied and grateful tenants.

As usual, it had troubled him to see that despite the apparent wealth that surrounded him at Ormonde, there were others for whom life was never easy, and perhaps a constant struggle.

He'd lived at Carlyon Court, a scant few miles from Nanpean, until his tenth year, when his father had inherited Ormonde and they'd had to remove to live in Wiltshire. But long before that, he'd found a friend in his mother's rascally older brother, Jago, and that friendship had never been allowed to dwindle. Whenever his father made his infrequent visits to Carlyon Court, usually for a few weeks each summer, Kit had begged to accompany him, and the two of them had seen the house opened up and brought back to dusty life.

Not that Kit had wanted to spend his time in the house. No, his goal every summer had been to spend time with Jago at Nanpean.

For Kit had early on discovered, to his delight, that Jago was a smuggler. With the romantic heart of a boy, he'd embraced it wholeheartedly, throwing himself into the adventure of what he saw as his uncle's exciting escapades. As he grew older, so he'd come to spend every summer at Nanpean with his uncle.

They sailed and fished together, lit lanterns to guide the little boats inshore so they could be unloaded on the beach at Nanpean, tied old sacking around the ponies' hooves, and trekked inland along the ancient hidden trackways to distribute their newfound wealth.

While the gentry quaffed their contraband brandy, and their wives danced in silks that had paid no duty in ballrooms across the county, Kit had seen the poor going hungry, so he'd kept up the smuggling even after he inherited his father's estate. To help his fellow Cornishmen, of course, but also for the excitement of it. Not to mention the fun of outwitting the revenue men.

Kit and Sam left their horses in the stables and went up to join the ladies in the morning room, where two of the footmen had just laid out a light meal of bread and butter and small cakes along with a tray of tea.

"Kit, darling," his mother exclaimed, her face alight with pleasure. "I wasn't expecting you and Sam for our little luncheon." She laid aside her sewing and nodded to the footman to withdraw.

"I was," Ysella said, sighing with obvious relief as she also set aside her sewing. "He's promised he'll help teach Morvoren to dance." She bestowed one of her best smiles on Sam, who colored to the roots of his hair. "And Sam has kindly said he would help too."

Morvoren, also blushing a little, closed the book she'd been holding. Was that an expression of relief on her face, as well? What dull and uplifting text could his mother have selected for her to read? Nothing Ysella would have chosen, that was for certain.

Kit and Sam made bows to the three ladies and Kit took a single seat close to his mother as she poured cups of tea for them all.

Sam perched at a distance on a hard-backed chair, looking uncomfortable. He rarely came into the drawing room to take tea with the family, but Kit had insisted as he was to be part of the dancing class.

"Teaching dancing?" Kit's mother asked, arching her eyebrows at him. "Morvoren doesn't know how to dance?"

Ysella butted in. "She has never learned, being from a corner of the country where dancing was not taught. So, as we are to go to the ball at Denby, I thought I had better instruct her. However…" she paused, "she cannot learn unless we have gentlemen to partner us." A naughty smile curved her lips. "So, Kit and Sam offered to assist me in my endeavors. We are to spend the afternoon in the music room. Dancing. It will be the greatest of fun, I'm sure."

Their mother pursed her lips for a moment but made no comment. Instead, she said, "I see you have been out riding across the estate, Kit," and passed him a delicate bone china cup and saucer. "The dust on your boots gives away your activities."

He nodded. "Sam and I did the rounds of the old folk—those who can no longer work or are widowed. We seem to have more of them than ever."

His mother nodded. "I rode out to visit them just over a week ago, by carriage, and took food Cook had prepared. The Widow Otley was sick in bed and we took her a good bone broth, enough for several days. Tell me, does she do better now?"

Kit nodded again. "I went specially to see her, Mother, as Sam told me of your visit. She does much better, you'll be pleased to hear. We found her in her garden, sitting in the sun, while her grandson, young Will, tended it for her. She asked me to tell you the bone broth was what cured her ills."

His mother smiled. "I doubt it very much, although good food is often the cure for some of what the poor suffer."

Ysella swallowed the bread and butter she'd been eating. "We are sending food to the young seamstresses who are stitching mine and Morvoren's gowns as a reward for their hard work." She smiled at Kit. "It was Morvoren's idea. She said they looked so thin and sad."

Kit glanced at Morvoren, who had remained silent during this exchange, delicately nibbling her bread and butter. Was that surprise in her eyes? Had she doubted that he ever did any good with his wealth? Not that he was rich by the standards of his neighbor at Denby. There was a man who could do more for his tenants if he tried… if he wanted to. But the old duke was a curmudgeonly fellow and whatever Kit suggested had always fallen on deaf ears.

At last, the food was finished and Kit rose to his feet, a tad nervous about what was to follow. "If you'll excuse me, Mother. I'm anxious to get this dancing practice done as Sam and I have other work to be about." He swept a bow to her and then turned to Morvoren as Sam and Ysella also rose to their feet.

"May I have the honor of leading you to the music room where I have happily secured the services of one of the servants who can play the fiddle?" How stuffy he sounded. But perhaps he only thought that because she was so unstuffy. Quite the unstuffiest girl he'd ever met.

Her blue eyes met his, twinkling with something he didn't quite understand, but she stood and took his proffered hand. He immediately wished he hadn't offered it as another sizzle of electricity ran up his arm, almost tangible in its intensity. Heat rushed up his neck making him turn his head away lest she should see. Why did her touch make him feel like this? She was a nobody, a well-bred nobody, and yet his whole body had been crying out to feel her hand in his… and more. Unable to release his hold on her for fear of offense, he led her out of the morning room and into the hall, followed by Sam and Ysella.

Old Jacko, one of the stable hands, who always played the fiddle for the servants' dances, was waiting in the music room, looking proud that he'd been asked to play for his lordship.

"Oh, you have found us an excellent musician!" Ysella gushed. "I don't know why I didn't think of asking Jacko. He's quite perfect." She released the hold she had on Sam's arm and bounced over to the old man. "This is all going to be quite splendid. What shall we start with?"

"Anythin' you likes, Miss Ysella," Jacko said, rheumy old eyes twinkling at her.

"Thank you." Ysella turned back to Morvoren. "There are several dances you're going to need to know for the ball. Mostly, we dance country dances in a long line, ladies on one side and gentlemen on the other, with lots of skipping up and down and twirling and some changing of partners, which is all great fun. They take a long time for everyone to go through, and if you and your partner stand well down the line, you'll be able to watch how everyone else dances the steps before it gets to your turn. So, I don't think we need to go through those just now. Maybe tomorrow or the next day."

She beamed at Kit. "I think we'll try ‘Sir Roger de Coverley' first and put some chairs out to be the other couples. When Morvoren has seen what she has to do, you should dance with her and I'll dance with Sam." She turned her attention to Old Jacko. "Can you play ‘Sir Roger' for us first, Jacko?"

Old Jacko touched his forelock with the hand that was holding the bow. "I can that all right, Miss Ysella." He struck up the tune with gusto.

Kit's foot began to tap. He'd always liked dancing.