Viola Bennington must have loyalty in any and all circumstances. If she were to burn the house down, though it was far more likely that Cordelia and her footlights would accomplish such a thing, her lord must stay loyal. If she spent all his money on baubles, though she was not particularly fond of shopping, he must stay loyal. If she was found to be a murderess, though so far she had always called for Lynette when there was a spider to be disposed of in her bedchamber, he must stay loyal.
And perhaps, along with loyalty, she must have some shade of red hair too. Just like that early infatuation, the tinker’s boy who had passed through the village. He had a marvelous head of red hair and when he’d passed by in his cart he’d winked at her.
Viola had spent many a private moment during the two awful weeks she was in love with him thinking he would come back for her and they would marry. She would not even mind riding round the countryside in a tinker’s cart, as long as he was beside her.
The boy never did come back, which Viola must assume her father would be grateful to know if he had been aware of her attachment. He had eventually faded from her thoughts, but his red hair never had. There was something original and romantic about it, as if it capped off a passionate nature. There was something about it that stirred her.
And then there had been Lord Baderston sporting a shade she had never dreamed of. Not too bright, but a most pleasing copper.
Now, the Benningtons were on their way to Town. It was to be her season, and Lord Baderston would be waiting for her.
At least, she hoped so. There was always the outside chance that some other lady with a fondness for copper-colored hair and ham slices had swooped in. But Viola would not allow her thoughts to drift in that direction for too long. It was too distressing to think of.
The Angel in Basingstoke had only taken six days to reach. Some other caravans may have made the trip from Taunton to that location in fewer days, but it was quite a good pace for the Benningtons.
Whenever the family was on the move, it seemed there were no end of delays to be encountered. Sometimes Viola had to get out and walk from eating too much ham, and then Juliet often needed to stop to write an ode to an inspiring vista.
They had been delayed at the outset when they’d stopped atThe Lambat Hindon as they had encountered a most unpleasant fellow. They had instantly felt it their absolute duty to manage him. Once they had managed him, they’d spent two days there, settling the result of the affair.
A certain Mr. Ladle, who had recently lost his wife, was determined to rid himself of that lady’s most precious possession. A lovely bird named Chester had kept poor Mrs. Ladle company through what must have been a most tedious marriage.
They had encountered Mr. Ladle attempting to convince the innkeeper that his guests would be amused by having Chester on the scene. He was said to be a scarlet macaw and that sort of bird was known to captivate and entertain travelers.
The innkeeper did not see the charm of the idea. Or the charm of Chester. He told Mr. Ladle that not only would he not pay five pounds for the bird, but he could notbe paidfive pounds to take the thing.
This was all very distressing to the Benningtons. Or at least to the sisters and Miss Mayton, if not their father who was still outside, directing the arrangements for the horses.
What would happen to Chester? He could not survive in the out of doors and they would not think it past Mr. Ladle to put him there. For one, Chester was a tropical sort of bird and could not tolerate the weather. For another, he’d been the indulged pet of the long-suffering Mrs. Ladle and would have no idea how to fend for himself.
Chester would constantly give away his location to predators by his brightly colored red, yellow, and blue feathers. His tail feathers were so majestically long that Viola did not see how they could be hidden in any hidey-hole.
And then, Chester did have things to say for himself. Viola could just imagine a fox or stoat walking by who had somehow not noticed Chester. Then that creature would suddenly hear the bird talking to himself. She had already heard him say a number of things:Charming Chester. Biscuit. Bad man.
The much-aggrieved Chester was just now lunging at Mr. Ladle through the bars of his cage and screaming, “Bad man, bad man, bad man.”
“Shut it!” Mr. Ladle said, rattling Chester’s cage.
In retaliation, Chester reached a claw out between the bars and scratched Mr. Ladle’s hand.
“Hand over that bird at once,” Viola said, thinking she’d best get the bird in hand before her father came in to put a stop to it.
Mr. Ladle had turned at the sound. He looked over at Viola, Cordelia, Juliet, and Miss Mayton. Seeming to take their measure, he said smoothly, “Of course, miss, this here bird is yours for only ten pounds.”
“Bad man!” Chester cried.
“Yes,” Viola said to the bird, “I believe you are right, Chester. Now, Mr. Ladle, you must know that Mrs. Ladle is very ashamed of you. You do realize that she can see what you’re doing from heaven, as canGod.”
Mr. Ladle had apparently not considered there might be eyes upon him and glanced all round as if Mrs. Ladle or God might be spotted hiding behind a door at the inn.
“Indeed,” Juliet said. “I cannot imagine what poor Mrs. Ladle and God think about this.”
“Nothing very pleasant, I’m sure,” Cordelia said.
Mr. Ladle took this very hard, and Viola was certain that when he set out to sell the bird he’d not factored in both God and Mrs. Ladle watching him do it.
“I don’t mean no harm,” he whispered, “it’s just…the thing don’t never shut up.”
“Well,” Miss Mayton said, “I am not surprised by it. Chester does not seem to care for you particularly. I must presume he has been calling you a bad man for quite some time.”
