“His words are always said in a very pleasing manner,” Beatrice said, eyeing Matthew.
“Beatrice,” Cordelia said, “did you find yourself struck by Mr. Cahill? It would be wonderful if you were to wed one of Darden’s particular friends.”
“I am afraid I have not been struck in that way,” Beatrice said. “Miss Mayton has described true love as feeling as if one were both drowning and yet taking in more air than one has ever done.”
“What?” Matthew asked incredulously. “How does one—”
“Also,” Viola said, cutting him off, “one feels as if one’s hair has been struck by lightning, and yet one is also filled with a sense of calm surety.”
Matthew was not certain he would mind if Miss Maytonwasactually struck by lightning or drowning.
“And do not forget how the heart changes its rhythm,” Miss Mayton said. “It speeds up terrifically, and yet it does not feel ill.”
“Ifeel ill,” Matthew said.
“Such a stick,” Beatrice muttered back.
*
Beatrice surveyed thedrawing room of Portland Place. They had done it, they had arrived in London.
Good Mrs. Huffson had got the house in order and Beatrice was certain it had taken a Herculean effort. Darden, as dear as he was, made any place he resided in appear as if it had been struck by a violent windstorm.
Now, though, it was looking perfect. Beatrice had only vague memories of the house, as she had last been there when she’d been quite young. It was larger than she remembered, and the furniture was rather luxurious.
The velvet and brocade furniture coverings and silk pillows were very different from what they had at home. Her aunt had long advised the earl to choose fabrics that were not missed if they were ruined, due to how many things were spilled on them and the occasional fire from Cordelia’s footlights.
As she waited for her family to join her, Beatrice considered all they’d experienced so far.
The last day of the journey was, not unexpectedly, peppered with several hiccups. One could hardly move so many people at once and not have hiccups, though apparently that fact was lost on Van Doren.
After saying adieu to Mr. Cahill, they had set off themselves not an hour later. Unfortunately, a quarter hour down the road they discovered that Juliet had left her book of poetry behind at the inn.
Matthew was sent to retrieve it and he was incredibly surly over it. Before turning round his horse, he’d stared at Juliet and said, “‘Ode to Why Don’t You Rope It to Your Wrist,’ written by Lord Sick of Going Back for it.”
Juliet had only raised a brow and said, “Scoldy-Breeches.”
Some time later, Viola had got a stomachache, though she refused to say if it had been due to the large amount of ham she’d consumed. This necessitated a stop so that she might walk about in the fresh air.
While they were stopped, a young boy with a basket of four kittens trudged by Viola looking very dejected. She commanded him to stop and say what was the matter.
It turned out the boy’s father told him to get rid of the kittens and he was very sure he was meant to kill them. He could not do it and had been walking for miles, looking for a farmer to take some of them for barn cats.
Over Van Doren’s protestations that they would begin with four cats and end a year later with twenty, the poor little mites were speedily placed into the arms of the sisters.
Juliet had been delighted to inform Van Doren of his error—he should have guessed that all four kittens were female since they were all calico.
As Juliet gave Van Doren the what-for, the young boy sank to the ground and sobbed with relief. He was exhausted in both body and spirit from the trials of the day.
The earl very much doubted the little chap would have the strength to walk home, and so he was put in the carriage with Cook and the two footmen. They would further provide him with some ale to revive him.
A mile down the road, the caravan was stopped again, this time by Cook, who got out and had a conversation with the earl.
The boy’s name was Charlie and it seemed his family were very poor and he was expected to find work but he could find none, being on the small side of things for eleven. Cook recommended they take him on as a boy of all work for his kitchens and of course the earl acquiesced, being so kindhearted.
Then, it was only a matter of locating Charlie’s father, acquainting him with the scheme, and paying him money as he claimed the boy would someday grow very tall and he ought to keep him home in anticipation of it.
All the while, Van Doren complained and moaned and claimed they would never get to London. Really, his patience could be bested by a five-year-old.
