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Chapter Six
‘Hurry up, Livvy,’ Hattie called from the governess cart just after ten on the fourth of July. ‘You don’t want to be late for the fair. Your mother and father left over an hour ago.’
Portia had run over and clambered immediately in, but Livvy slowly picked her way across the puddles, holding a white parasol over her head. Hattie wanted to get out of the governess cart and bodily pick her up. All night she had thought about Kit and how she’d behave during the fair. They were friends. The fact that she kept remembering the kiss they had shared was her problem.
‘Isn’t the sun fierce this year?’ Livvy said, finally getting into the cart. ‘You will freckle, Portia, if you don’t pull your hat forwards.’
Portia stuck out her tongue and pushed the straw bonnet back.
‘If there is any bickering, you can stay at home.’ Hattie gave the reins a shake and the horse started off smartly. All she could hope was that the day improved. This was the sort of thing she loved—being with her nieces. Except today, it felt a bit like everyone took her for granted. There was a question of how she greeted Kit as she had not bothered to inform Stephanie about the precise ending of hostilities. ‘I mean it, Portia and Livvy. I want no repeats of last year.’
‘You can’t do that!’ Portia’s eyes went wide. ‘I have been waiting for oranges and gingerbread for ever so long. Whenever I’m feeling sad, I tell myself—oranges and gingerbread lumps as big as hats at the Stagshaw fair. Somehow it makes everything seem more bearable.’
‘I am sure there will be time for both oranges and gingerbread...provided you both behave yourselves.’ Hattie concentrated on navigating the rutted road. The short journey to Stagshaw was fraught with difficulty after so many carriages and carts had churned up the road. The last thing she needed was a broken wheel or to get stuck in the mud. She had taken pains with her dress and had tried out a new hairstyle. ‘I’ve saved some pennies for you. Shall we see how many squares of gingerbread we can eat?’
‘Can I use the money towards a pair of Hexham Tans?’ Livvy smoothed her skirt and tilted her chin. From where Hattie sat, it appeared that she was striking a variety of poses, trying them out to see which suited her best by looking at her shadow. Hattie remembered the phase all too clearly. ‘I would like a pair of gloves more than anything and I have almost enough. I’ve saved my Christmas and birthday money especially.’
Portia snorted. ‘You mean you are hoping to run into Mr Hook and don’t want your face grubby. Personally I fail to see what the fuss is about. He doesn’t appear to know much about newts. I asked him about the toads in our garden when we ran into him at the Halls’ At Home. And he kept primping his curls when he thought no one was looking. The tousled look.’
Livvy rolled her eyes. ‘There is a difference between toads and newts, Portia. Any fool knows that.’
‘Will he be giving the proposed lecture before he departs? I understood they were only staying for the Stagshaw fair,’ Hattie asked, attempting to keep her voice casual. Her mind raced to think about whether Kit had actually said they were staying or if today was truly going to be goodbye. Her heart sank. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
‘It depends on what Colonel Cunningham decides, but I plan to sit in the front row when it happens.’
‘Livvy, we weren’t going to speak about meeting Mr Hook in the High Street. Mama said. Sir Christopher would barely speak to Aunt Hattie at the concert. They have fallen out of civility and it is all Aunt Hattie’s fault. Her best chance for marriage in years is gone.’
Livvy clapped her hands over her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry, Aunt Harriet. I understand now about the sorrows of the heart.’
‘Is there a particular pair of gloves you want or are you going to look over the stalls?’ Hattie asked, silently damning Stephanie. Sorrows of the heart and Kit being a good marriage prospect indeed. She was not wasting away for love or looking for a loveless marriage with a charming but unreliable man. The only person who would see the irony was Kit.
‘Oh, I thought I would wander up and down the stalls until I found the one I wanted.’ Livvy gave an elaborate shrug.
‘Does your mother approve of your plan? You are hoping to meet Mr Hook.’
‘Mama fails to understand.’ Livvy bent her head and fussed with her lace gloves. ‘I’m sixteen, but I also have a brain. I want to go to London and have a Season. I’m not about to do anything foolish.’
