The soft clip-clop of horses’ hooves, muffled by the morning mist, had signaled the arrival of the carriage. His mistress and her niece had left almost silently, as if they joined a funeral procession.
He could hardly take in the events of the night before! First, the offensive note from a certain Lady Montague, then Lord Burke rushing in and revealing the nefarious plot afoot.
Miss Cassandra was to be ostracized! It was outrageous. That good, young girl had never done a wrong thing in her life.
If he had his way, he would set off to locate this Lady Montague and knock the stuffing out of her.
As it was, he could not knock the stuffing out of anybody, except perhaps Miss Cassandra’s maid Peggy, who still snored in her bed. He would see to it that Peggy packed up her mistress’s things in an orderly and neat fashion and that she kept her opinions to herself. He’d already grown tired of the girl’s opinions and now he was downright done with them.
Hours later, as he watched over the house and its inhabitants with a careful and somber eye, he heard the clatter of a horse reined in and a pounding on the door.
Fearing it would be news of an accident on the road, he rushed to answer it.
Lord Hampton stood on the steps, seeming out of breath as if he’d galloped his way across London.
“Is Miss Knightsbridge at home?” Lord Hampton asked. “Or Lady Marksworth? Or both? Perhaps both would be better.”
“I am afraid, my lord,” Racine said, “both Miss Knightsbridge and Lady Marksworth have retired to the country.”
“To the country?” Lord Hampton said. “My God, what time did they set off?”
“At first light, my lord,” Racine said.
“But surely… she was not well. Is it wise that she travel so soon?”
Racine had not been prepared for the question, but that was of little matter. His years as a butler had trained him to always be ready to answer any question in a manner befitting the house.
“The doctor was here and examined Miss Knightsbridge. He pronounced her fit for travel and charged Lady Marksworth to get her into the country air as soon as possible.”
“Where do they go? Surrey? Or to Lady Marksworth’s estate?”
“They go to Miss Knightsbridge’s father in Surrey,” Racine said gravely.
Racine watched in some amazement as Lord Hampton fairly stumbled down the steps. It seemed the lord took a singular interest in the health of Miss Cassandra.
He could not say whether he approved or disapproved of the idea. Though, if the lord did take such an interest, he might make himself useful by discovering the whereabouts of Lady Montague and knocking the stuffing out of her.
*
Unbeknownst to Cassandra,Lady Marksworth had the foresight to send a letter via fast horse to Trebly Hall the night before, preparing her father for their arrival and the circumstances surrounding their sudden decampment.
Cassandra had slept a deal of the way, sleep now being her welcome escape. She woke and found the sun high overhead and, out the carriage windows, the familiar scenes of her neighborhood. It was comforting to view Mr. Jenkin’s fields kept in good order as they had always been. The grand old willow that draped its greenery so close to the road stood as it ever had. Two rough and tumble boys stuck their tongues out at the passing carriage, as boys had always been wont to do.
It was as if time had stood still. So much had happened to her, but nothing had happened to Surrey.
Then, finally, they rumbled through the gates and Trebly Hall rose in the distance. Its fine stone façade and glorious tall windows standing as it had ever stood these past hundred years.
The carriage rolled to a stop and, much to her surprise, her father was there to greet them.
Lady Marksworth leaned over and said softly, “Your father knows all—I wrote ahead.”
Cassandra was helped down to the gravel. Though her father had always been exceedingly kind, she did feel some trepidation over how he would view this particular disaster. She’d been sent to London to conduct herself creditably and somehow come home in disgrace.
The viscount gently took her arm and said, “There now, I hear you have been through the wars, but there is no war here. Come in and be at peace in your home.”
This was so generous that Cassandra found herself sobbing. Her dear, dear father! What a change from those sneering, talking people of London!
She was led indoors as her father talked beside her. “You will need refreshment before you go above stairs to change. Come into the library, a certain ridiculous dog awaits you there. Further, Maidencraft has had Cook working like a demon to see that your favorite biscuits appear on the tea tray.”
