Walking and trotting, through London they wind
His horse is confused and thinks ‘where do we goes?’
Less confused is the gentleman, who already knows.
My God, was that about him? Did she suggest that he meant to end up at Portland Place? That it was by design?
The party clapped, and so did Percival as he knew not what else to do. Perhaps nobody had thought to connect him to the ode. That was, if naming it an ode was not too lofty for whatever that had been. Where do we ‘goes,’ indeed.
“Ah, that sounds very like you, Lord Harveston,” Miss Mayton said. “Suddenly turning up like that.”
“No, of course not, I was only wandering, I never thought to—”
“You are always welcome, Lord Harveston,” the earl said jovially. “All of Darden’s friends are welcome, however they end up here.”
*
Though it mightnot be usual that one’s married sisters accompanied one above stairs, both Conbatten and Lord Baderston were not at all surprised to be left waiting in the drawing room while Rosalind and Viola went up.
The sisters had all crowded into Cordelia’s bedchamber while Lynette fussed with clothes and hair.
“What did you think of my ode, Cordy?” Juliet asked, eyeing her sister.
“I think you hinted that Lord Harveston arrived here by design,” Cordelia said. “I am sure he was galled by the idea. You have managed to punish him as I could not and he seemed to know it. Well done.”
“But I did not do it only as a punishment,” Juliet said.
“Ah, you think hedidmean to come here,” Viola said.
“So it is not even the plot at Dembric Dale that thickens,” Rosalind said. “Cordy’s plot thickens too.”
“There is no plot,” Cordelia said. “There is no reason why Lord Harveston should mean to end in front of our house, it was just happenstance.”
“Bosh to that,” Juliet said. “If he were to be out simply exercising his horse, there are far better routes.”
“That is true,” Viola said. “He is at Bedford Square. He might have had a very pleasant ride round Russell Square.”
“Yes, that is the route I would have chosen too,” Rosalind said. “When Conbatten and I ride out, he always puts me just ahead of him so he might watch out for danger, so I often choose the route. Certainly, that is the way I would have gone.”
Viola propped her chin on her hands as she lay across Cordelia’s bed. “Conbatten is still intent on saving you from things then, Ros?”
“Terribly so. I adore him for it.”
“And the baths?” Cordelia asked.
“Still precisely ninety-eight degrees with chilled champagne.”
“Lovely,” Viola said.
“Now, Viola,” Rosalind said, “I know you have written that you get on famously with Baderston and it surely looks so, but now that we are just us sisters, how is it for you?”
“We are two peas, same pod,” Viola said with the slightest blush. “He is such a loyal fellow—we really do not like to be apart.”
“And your difficult mother-in-law?” Rosalind asked.
“Far less difficult. She’s given up the fight and when she does not fight she is very pleasant. She often asks about Papa and I think she admires him still.”
“Did I tell you I just got a letter from Beatrice? She says her comfort is still Van Doren’s first concern and that Lily has him entirely conquered. If dear little Lily babbles anything even remotely sounding like Papa, he is a puddle.”
