They reached the auction rooms and found them much emptier. The assistant produced a handcart and trundled the box of china around to the inn yard, where the ostler took it and offered to place it securely in the cart’s storage box once the horse should be put up. Lord Pallant offered to give them coffee, or nuncheon, or a glass of ratafia, but they refused; it seemed a little too much to Cecilia, and she could see that Miss Macintyre considered it a great deal too much for a first meeting without a proper introduction. But the gentlemen were all tender solicitude, accepting the rebuff without undue protest, and helped them up into their seats, both saying that they looked forward to their next meeting with great eagerness.
Miss Macintyre shook the reins briskly, and the grey obeyed her as quickly as she could have wished. She exited the inn yard in silence, and had gone a few yards down the road out of Debenbridge before she said drily, ‘That was excessively neatly done. Bless me, is Lord Pallant not the slickest thing in nature? A practised London tulip of the ton with fifteen years on the town could hardly have done better. Impossible for you to refuse the connection without the appearance of great incivility and unreasonableness; almost as impossible for you to refuse hisverykindinvitation. Yes, I was listening, since the young cub did not overexert himself to do the pretty to me. There are some advantages, I have found, in being practically invisible as an older woman. That man, my dear child, is a squire of dames, to put it no more strongly. If you were not young and impressionable, I would tell you I strongly suspect him of being a libertine, but of course I would never use such a coarse word in your hearing.’ She was being very emphatically Scottish just now, which was a sign of agitation her former pupil could not fail to recognise.
Cecilia did not disagree. ‘Maybe so, but I can’t imagine that much opportunity for libertinage presents itself in this quite place,’ she murmured appeasingly.
‘Men such as that will make their own opportunities. Did he not just do exactly that?’
Miss Constantine was forced to protest. ‘I don’t think you can say that he has shown any disposition to seduce me, just because he has proposed an innocent picnic with his siblings and mine! The idea is absurd, ma’am.’
‘Of course it is. You are an heiress now. Seduction would be the very last thing on his mind. And as for innocence…’ Miss Macintyre sighed and then said in gentler tones, ‘I’m not denying he might be attracted to you. I daresay he really is; you are a very handsome girl, Cecilia. Between the three of you, you will no doubt set the county in an uproar, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You deserve a little pleasure, as who does not? But he made such a dead set at you just now; you must allow that there was nothing natural or accidental in that meeting. And your new fortune is such…’
‘I know. I’m not taking issue with anything you say, ma’am. I agree that there was something very… adept in the way he inserted himself into our company. Had I wished to shake him off, I have no idea how I could have done so without outright rudeness, as you say. I’m quite sure you’re right to distrust him, and to warn me. But remember, we are in no danger, even if he is a fortune hunter; we may not marry for almost a year.’
‘I know that, and I am very glad of it,’ her companion responded with a touch of grim humour. ‘But I wonder, does he?’
21
They returned for a late nuncheon with a great deal to tell. The china was unpacked and admired, declared to be exactly the thing, and the arrival of the new furniture looked forward to with eager anticipation. Nobody but Miss Macintyre and Cecilia had seen the wonderful green sofas, and so her sisters did not mourn their loss, only wondered at the exaggerated price they’d gone for.
The news of the proposed picnic was greeted with general approval, despite their duenna’s warning about Lord Pallant’s insinuating ways; Bianca spoke for all of them when she said with solid common sense that agreeing to go out for an afternoon in mixed company did not approach anywhere close to compromising oneself, nor did it constitute a commitment to anything save eating a few sandwiches and drinking warm lemonade while fanning away wasps. It was perfectly true that Miss Macintyre had quite noticeably been excluded from the invitation, and indeed the proposed site of the expedition, at the top of the only hill for miles around, might well have been chosen deliberately as one unlikely to appeal to an elderly lady of sedentary habits. But even she agreed that there could be no actual danger in accepting, always supposing that they stayed together and thwarted any ingenious efforts by their hosts to separate them.
When Cecilia mentioned that Miss Pallant might call soon to arrange a date that suited everyone, Beatrice revealed quite casually that she had encountered her this morning on the sands, but had only spoken to her very briefly. Bianca said that she had strolled on the beach and in the wood and done a little sketching there, for her part, but had met nobody at all.
They did not expect any visitors that afternoon, since Mrs Bartrum and Mrs Drinkwater had called only a day or two ago, and Lady Synett, whom they had not yet met but heard a good deal about, much of it alarming, was known still to be in Town. Cecilia and Bianca said they’d go out walking again, perhaps into the village, and Bea volunteered to stay near the house in case Miss Pallant did appear, though she agreed that it was probably too soon to expect her. Miss Macintyre disagreed, opining cynically that she wouldn’t have been terribly surprised to find that young lady on the doorstep when they’d arrived home, so very eager were her brothers to see their newest neighbours again, but she headed off for her nap without any further comment.
The afternoon was warm, and Bea took a book outside, seating herself in the dappled shade of the mighty oak tree at the edge of the lawn, on a large, faded cushion she’d found in one of the cupboards. It was a spring day that could almost have been summer, and it was quite natural, she told herself, to enjoy the fine weather like this while it lasted. There was no need to take notice of the undeniable fact that if Miss Pallant came across the beach, ahead of the incoming tide, she would be bound to climb the steps and pass this way, encountering her hostess without ever having to enter the house or be announced by one of the maids.
Bea had only been reading for half an hour or so, with no very great attention to the pages she was turning, when some instinct made her look up. Vivienne was standing at the top of the steps, looking across at her, flushed and lovely in white muslin and a blue spencer; she’d changed her clothes since the morning. Miss Constantine did not rise, and her visitor took this as invitation to cross to her side.
‘How comfortable you look,’ she said. ‘I fear I will stain my dress if I sit on the grass, though, and it is my best and newest muslin. Is there room on your cushion, do you think?’
There really wasn’t. ‘Of course,’ Bea said, shifting aside a little. A very little.
Vivienne joined her, sinking down with exquisite grace. Their legs were pressed together from knee to hip, and they were shoulder to shoulder. Miss Pallant rather daringly slipped her arm about Bea’s waist, so that they sat breast to breast, and they both leaned back against the tree trunk. ‘This is delightfully comfortable,’ she breathed languidly. She smelled of roses and warm skin.
‘In some respects, it is,’ responded Beatrice. Her voice had a touch of growl in it, she noticed. An edge. Good.
‘You’ve heard about the picnic that my brother Oliver has suggested?’ Vivienne’s hand was lying quite lightly on Bea’s thigh, and no doubt to an observer, they would have presented a charming picture of two friends in innocent conversation, perhaps sharing girlish confidences, as men thought young women did. One would have had to be quite close and quite observant to see that her fingers had begun moving, delicately but with purpose, lifting the grey muslin of Bea’s gown and sliding it over the heavier petticoat fabric beneath, teasing at the sensitive skin that lay below. Bea pushed off her slipper and adjusted her position a little so that her toes could reach the hem of Vivienne’s gown and raise it a fraction, and slip underneath to caress her ankle and calf. But neither of them referred to what they were doing, by word or glance.
‘A picnic will be delightful, if the weather permits it,’ Bea said. ‘Tell me when you think it best to go; I am sure we cannot possibly have any other engagements, and no doubt Mrs Pritty will provide a feast enough for a dozen people.’
‘That’s excellent news, for my brother Sebastian always eats like a boy who hasn’t seen food in weeks, and I too have a very healthy appetite.’ Vivienne’s hand had crept up, across her belly, and was lightly stroking the underside of Bea’s breast now. ‘Oliver proposes next Monday.’
‘Very well. I can see no objection at all. Thank you.’
They sat together for a while in charged silence. Beatrice turned sideways slightly to face her companion, and in such a position, it was quite natural for her hand to rest, equally lightly, on the white muslin of Vivienne’s thigh. ‘Would you like to be shown around the house?’ she asked. Her voice sounded a trifle odd in her own ears, but Miss Pallant seemed to notice nothing amiss. Bea was quite aware, for she’d been told so only a day or two ago and she had an excellent memory, that her guest had been to Albery Hall several times before, when Aunt Augusta was alive. But neither of them mentioned that fact now.
‘Though I should warn you, we should be quiet, out of consideration for Miss Macintyre, who is resting in her chamber.’
‘I can be quiet as a mouse, if necessary,’ Vivienne said, her cheek dimpling charmingly. ‘Let us go.’
22
Cecilia and Bianca headed out along the strand a little, but the tide was coming in fast now, making them nervous, so they soon made their way inland. Cecilia had passed along the lane in the cart this morning on the way to Debenbridge, so they knew that if they carried on walking, they would reach the village with its small harbour. They had an errand, though not a particularly onerous one: Mrs Pritty had told them which cottage to visit for potatoes, if they cared to bring some back for dinner.
The hedgerows were full of blossom and birdsong, and the hum of bees could also be heard, though not yet at its summer peak.
‘It’s wonderful here,’ Bianca said, swinging the empty basket energetically as she strode. ‘I don’t miss London at all. Of course, I may grow bored, I am quite easily bored, but it’s all new and fascinating now. And I want to draw and paint everything I see. But was Miss M right about Lord Pallant, do you think, or being overcautious? Both Pallants, I suppose.’
