They’d had hopes that they might entice Viola and Lord Baderston to come for a visit, though they were so recently married. As it happened, Viola was up to her eyes in things to do at her new house. She was determined to manage the dowager, a project that seemed well underway, and she was equally determined to keep her lord safe at home after rescuing him from three different duels.
Their absence was thought to be no great matter—they would see Viola in Town.
The family had since set off for Portland Place, leaving Beatrice, Van Doren, and the menagerie of animals behind. Darling Lily was too young to travel, so Beatrice would spend a quiet few months watching her grow and smiling at Van Doren as he mooned around the nursery.
Their own cats and dogs were comfortable where they were, roaming the estate and coming in when they were tired or hungry.
Chester, their very charming parrot, had proved himself to be a terrible traveler—regularly falling off his perch and seeming as if he was dead. However, he had also proved himself exceedingly fond of Clara, a housemaid who would stay behind and look after him. Chester would shout “murder” and Clara would laugh and shout back, “Murder yourself, you wretch.”
As Chester did not understand the words comprising the sentence, but only the friendliness of the tone, he was delighted with Clara.
The earl’s carriages had meandered and detoured and stopped and started in their usual roundabout manner, arriving at The Lamb at Hindon six days after they set off.
It might have taken them even longer, but they had finally devised a method of ensuring that Juliet’s book of odes did not get left behind everywhere they stopped, as had been the usual situation. Van Doren had taken the book after she’d left it in the drawing room, drilled a hole in the corner of it, and slipped a ribbon through. Now, Juliet might carry it on her wrist and had only lost track of it twice.
Cordelia was rather surprised by the scene that met her father’s carriages at the innyard of The Lamb. It was usual that when they arrived, they were the largest party going, and perhaps the party thought to have the deepest pockets. These two ideas generally resulted in all hands very quickly at their disposal.
That was not the case this time. A party had arrived before them and seemed to take everyone’s attention. It was only one carriage, and it seemed it only carried one lady and her maid, but whoever she was, she was making an outsize impression.
Finally, a groom had been convinced to provide his service to the Benningtons, though he’d seemed loathe to part with the mystery carriage.
Cordelia wasted no time inquiring of him. She leaned out the window and said, “Young man, who is that lady, if you will?”
The groom looked at her in some surprise, as if it she were rather dim to ask it.
“That is Mrs. Jordan. Mrs. Dorothy Jordan, you understand. Atourinn, staying the night. Dorothy Jordan prefersourinn.”
Cordelia sat back. Dorothy Jordan was one of the great actresses of the age! How fortuitous that they should encounter one another. They must meet. What with Mrs. Jordan’s experience performing on the stage and her own experience performing in the drawing room, they would have much to talk about.
Of course, being an earl’s daughter, Cordelia herself would never tread the boards at Drury Lane, but that did not mean she could not have the beating heart and emotional soul of an actress.
How many times had she entertained her family with Desdemona’s last dying words? She had perfected it, she thought privately. Shakespeare would be proud of her interpretation, she thought very silently. She made it a point to look as if she were surprised by the applause at the end of one of her performances, though she really was not.
“Cordy,” Juliet said, “wait until Mrs. Jordan understands there is another actress at the inn. You might act out Desdemona for her.”
“I am sure she would be delighted with it,” Miss Mayton said.
“I’ll not argue it,” Cordelia said, “but first we must be introduced and then invite her to dine.”
They watched the lady descend from her carriage. She was a striking personage and wore a hat sporting several exceedingly long ostrich plumes. It was the sort of hat that waved to the world and proclaimed, “I am not afraid to be noticed.” This would be a bold thing on a usual day but was perhaps even bolder now. The lady was visibly with child.
Naturally, nothing would be mentioned regarding her expanding waistline. For one, it was not a thing that was ever mentioned between strangers. But for a very important two, there was noMr. Jordan who might be comfortably responsible for such a state.
If there were a baby on the way, that baby would be the Duke of Clarence’s issue. Mrs. Jordan had long lived with the duke at Bushy Park and their children were too numerous to count.
Cordelia put all those ideas aside. Whatever was Mrs. Jordan’s personal life, she was an actress first. She was an actress in her heart and soul.
Miss Mayton called to the groom. “Do let us down,” she said. Turning to Cordelia and Juliet, she said, “Come, my girls, we do not have a moment to lose.”
Out of the carriage, they hurried across the innyard to come upon Mrs. Jordan just as she was being led into the inn by the innkeeper himself.
“Maisie dear, is that you?” Miss Mayton said, reaching Mrs. Jordan’s side.
The lady turned and said, “I am afraid you are mistaken, my good lady.”
“Heavens, so I am,” Miss Mayton said. “I haven’t seen my dear cousin in years, but you are so like, I hardly imagined there could be two such beauties in England…”
Mrs. Jordan, and Cordelia supposed every other lady in the land, was not immune to such a compliment.
