Valor would not go to sleep until she was assured once more that they would all come back for Christmas, even if they had to break the doors down. Patience would invariably tell Valor that they might break the doors down just for fun, though Valor never seemed particularly cheered by that idea.
Since that first night, Lady Marchfield insisted that all ladies must retire to the drawing room after dinner, while all gentlemen might stay at table with a glass of port. That was how things were done and it was high time the duke’s daughters learned it.
Their poor papa was left to get drunk quite alone.
“Roland,” Lady Marchfield went on, pacing the drawing room, “I very much fear that Felicity is not ready to go to Town. She has no polish, her playing is dreadful and really, the things she says… it would almost be better if she did not speak at all.”
“The house in Grosvenor Square has been opened and the dust shook out of it so we will go. Surely, some young fop will take her off my hands. Then, it’s just six to go—my dream is within reach!”
“Once again, you’ve drunk too much port.”
“Which is why I shouldn’t be left alone with the bottle!”
“I very much fear you do not know what you face in London. You have been too isolated here, the girls have grown up like heathens. Why do they have their own fowling pieces? Why do they ride those Dales ponies as if they were on a military campaign? Why did I find a decanter of Canary in Felicity’s bedchamber?”
Felicity, whose nickname wasFerocityfor very good reason, began to get very hot. Everybody knew she liked a half-glass of Canary before bed.
“Heathens, smeathens,” the duke said dismissively. “They have guns to shoot with, the horses in this part of the world like to get going and not dawdle around, and everybody knows Felicity likes a half-glass of Canary before bed. They’ve all got dowries and none of them look like a monster, that ought to do it.”
“For heaven’s sake. May I enquire what you intend to do with the youngers while we are in Town? You cannot possibly leave them alone with Mrs. Right, they run roughshod over the woman.”
“I’d never leave them with the housekeeper, that poor lady can barely stand the sight of them.”
Felicity slapped a hand over her mouth. Her father was an inveterate liar, usually for his own amusement. They were all very fond of Mrs. Right, and she them.
“They’ll all come with us, of course,” the duke said.
“To Town? All of them?” Lady Marchfield asked with incredulity.
“To Town or Timbuktu, one or the other, I leave it to you to select the destination. With that collection of girls, who really cares where we end up?”
“Do not be ridiculous,” Lady Marchfield said. “Now, I must also insist you hire a butler. It will not do to have the footmen trying to manage everything.”
“They manage nothing. Mrs. Right is the general in the servants’ hall.”
“Mrs. Right, affronting creature that she is, cannot answer your door in London, though she makes so bold to do so here. Fortunately, you live in the middle of nowhere, and few people are aware of the aberration.”
“Is there somethingwrongwith the Grosvenor Square doors? Do they not open properly? Do they stick? Will Mrs. Right have difficulty getting them open? I’ll have them repaired!”
“Really, Roland!” Lady Marchfield cried.
Felicity hopped up, as did the line of sisters behind her. They stole up the stairs and then down the corridor to Felicity’s room.
All of them knew by now that when Lady Marchfield cried, “Really, Roland!” she’d reached the end of her tether and would retire to her room to regroup.
They had closed the door to Felicity’s room and stayed quiet as Lady Marchfield huffed down the corridor and slammed her door behind her. Grace rang the bell to the servant’s hall, using the code for tea and biscuits. Two quick pulls for tea, a pause, then three quick pulls for the biscuits.
Mrs. Right, so recently impugned by Lady Marchfield, would manage to get it all up the back stairs without being caught out by the dragon.
They did not wait long, as that good lady had known perfectly well that they would ring for tea and biscuits. They’d already had a very weak tea in the drawing room, but Lady Marchfield didnot feel that young people should be eating biscuits so late in the day. Fortunately, Mrs. Right was not one little bit frightened of their recently arrived houseguest.
As the housekeeper set up the tray, Valor said, “Our poor dear Mrs. Right, we must be parted from you as our father says we’re all to go to London.” Valor paused, looking thoughtfully at the stuffed rabbit she dragged everywhere. “Who will check my room before I go to bed? Who will get rid of… you know.”
Mrs. Right, a sturdy and comfortable-looking woman, said, “Nightmares?”
Valor nodded sadly. Their youngest sister was prone to them, and then thinking about them afterward.
“What makes you think I’m not going?” Mrs. Right asked.
