Page 47 of Manufacturing a Duchess

The sun was moving high into the sky when the party assembled downstairs to commence their picnic drive. Mr. and Mrs. Hardcastle were to stay behind; Aurora was to serve as hostess. Lord and Lady W. had positively insisted on the use of their carriage for the ladies, and the men were to ride their own horses, as they had on the drive up. To this demand, much more than a polite request, Aurora had gracefully acquiesced. The route to the top of Elphinstone Tor would be a bit bumpy, and she anticipated a long list of forthcoming complaints from her ladyship as a result. At least this time, Lady W. would have to blame the springs in her own coach and not anything belonging to the Hardcastles. Though, who paid for that grand coach? came the rebellious observation. Yes, exactly. But she set it to one side.

On the ride up to the Tor, Marjorie tucked herself under Aurora’s arm again and looked out the window at the objects they passed which Aurora quietly pointed out to her. Missie said nothing except for an occasional sniff. Nevertheless, her eyes bored into Aurora, as though she would not only flay the flesh from her bones but uncover any possible secret she might find. Lady W. twittered a bit at the outset, but then became subdued as well, casting nervous glances at her own daughter.

It seemed only a matter of moments, and yet an age, when the horses finally began climbing the small hill until it levelled off and came to a stop. A wagon from the Hardcastle’s estate was parked just over the hilltop, with the household staff quickly finishing the unpacking of the picnic things. Thick rugs and blankets were set on the ground, and abundant hampers had been relieved of their contents and placed on two long tables. Cold chicken and fruit, duck and beef, freshly cooked bread whose aroma was still strong enough to make its way to their noses, buckets of chilled wine and punch—all beautifully arranged.

The women found seats for themselves on the thick ground cloths provided, and each was served by one of the hall staff. Marjorie took a seat beside Aurora. The little girl closed her eyes and buried her nose in the fresh slices of bread on her plate.

“Heavenly, Miss Aurora,” she said, evidently on her best behavior. “I do love a fine crust on a bread, and this is a fine crust.”

Aurora suppressed a grin and only nodded. Alec had settled himself on the other side of his daughter. The Duke of Galloway had taken a seat near to Missie, and her parents occupied their own blanket. Aurora closed her eyes as well and listened to the quiet. The servants had retreated to the table, and the only sounds were those of contented chewing, a whisper of a breeze, and the calling of birds from the trees which clustered around the base of the hill. The sun was warm, but not too hot. She tilted her head back to let some of it onto her face, as her bonnet hid too much of that bright light. A low laugh from Alec made her open her eyes to see that Marjorie was imitating her every move. She looked at him, their eyes connected, and she felt the warmth of his gaze down to her toes.

And then she saw Missie. It wasn’t a sound, exactly, that made her turn her head to look at her. Or was it? Because her friend was completely ignoring her extremely eligible suitor to stare instead at Aurora and Alec with a look that would have lit a fire in the fireplace without any help of a tinder. It seemed to go on for ages, but was surely just a moment, and then Missie turned her head to smile prettily at the Duke of Galloway. The warmth in Aurora’s stomach retreated.

Alec was clearly watching Aurora’s face, because he turned to look at Missie, but not swiftly enough to catch the exchange. He frowned, opened his mouth to say something, obviously reconsidered it, and subsided. Oblivious, Marjorie opened her eyes and sighed contentedly at her father. “Papa, is this not wonderful?”

“Yes, it is wonderful, my imp. And there should be ample opportunity for a short hike around this hill once we have finished eating. Would you like that?”

“Oh, yes.” Marjorie once more turned her attention to her plate.

Aurora must have been fretting again, because she felt a hand gently reach out and clasp hers. She smiled gratefully at Alec. “I am so glad you are here,” she said, “to see this countryside.”

“It is lovely,” he said softly. “Though, indeed, I believe I have a better view.”

Aurora blushed. And felt a prickle on the side of her neck. Without looking, she knew Missie had seen that blush. Why do I feel so guilty? She asked herself. I have done nothing wrong. Well, almost nothing. She slammed the door shut on that. Almost nothing was good enough.

Before the pudding was served, Alec, his cousin, and Marjorie got up and began to clamber around the hillside, exploring it. Aurora stood, walking to the edge of hill, and looked across to the valley below. A few carts lumbered along the road which made its way by the hill and on further into the valley. There was a large market town just a few miles further up the road, but she had always been grateful that you could not see it from here. In spite of the company, for good or ill, the feeling of home wrapped itself around her. She felt protected.

A shadow fell across the ground in front of her. Missie had let her bonnet fall back further than it should. She will get a touch of sun, thought Aurora. But for once, Missie did not seem to notice. “I have been watching you, Aurora,” she hissed. “What have you been up to?” The look she gave Aurora was filled with spite.

Aurora turned back to watch the view, saying nothing. With a huffing sound, Missie turned and walked away.

As they were getting into the carriage to go home at the end of their expedition, Missie pushed Marjorie to one side and out of the way as she prepared to climb in. The little girl stumbled but managed to right herself. Aurora was quickly at her side. She was grateful Alec was busy mounting his own horse and had not been able to see that. Something is terribly wrong. She dreaded the evening ahead. Putting her arm around Marjorie, Aurora helped her into the carriage to sit as far away from Missie as possible.

As they were settling themselves for the ride back, Aurora caught a look from Lady W. to her daughter that ought to have turned Missie into a pillar of salt. “You will ruin everything, you fool!” came the hissed comment under cover of the wheels rolling over the rocky ground as the carriage started up. “You have not secured your own proposal as yet.”

Missie did not respond with anything more than a toss of her head and deliberately turned to look out the carriage window, ignoring everyone inside. The crack inside Aurora that was swallowing whatever remained of the slender threads of their friendship deepened. Oh, Missie. What have you become?

Thirty-Eight

After a rest and refresh, the party reconvened in the drawing room, as they had the night before, to await the evening meal. Aurora ensured she was down first so she could see her mother well settled with the arrangements, greet the two dukes, welcome the Wentworths, and await Missie, who did not disappoint. A slight high color in Missie’s cheeks indicated that her bonnet’s slipping a bit earlier in the day was not without effect, and all the rice powder in the world could not blot out the fingers of sunlight that had touched her skin. Missie had just taken her seat when the door opened again and Marjorie entered, the shadowy shape of Peg behind her in the hall. The little girl moved further into the room as the door shut behind her.

Marjorie’s eyes searched the room for her father, and then Aurora. Clearly still on her best behavior, she quietly stepped forward in Aurora’s direction and prepared to make a curtsey. However, as she did so, the little girl suddenly lost her balance and fell forward. She hit the floor hard, with a thud which shook the tea things.

Everyone froze. Both Alec and his cousin turned from where they had stepped to personally accept the cups of tea to carry to the objects of their attention. The Duke of Selkirk had snapped to in a way that had the Duke of Galloway worriedly looking at him, then back to Missie. Alec started toward his daughter.

Marjorie scrambled to her feet on her own, however. She had a white, determined look on her face and shot her father a glance. He subsided, though Aurora saw this took great effort on his part. He let Marjorie take the remaining steps to Aurora. She made her curtsey, though it wobbled a bit on the way down and then back up. And then launched herself into Aurora’s embrace, but she did not cry. Aurora encircled her with her arms and drew her down to the sofa.

Missie sniffed. “I know you are a complete and utter romantic about things, Rorie, but this is too much. As I said last night, it is simply not done. And after a day outside, at a picnic? We are to be subjected to more of this child’s presence? All those weeks of effort and training, and you have learned nothing. You will never be one of us.”

Lady Wentworth had not sat closer to her daughter so as to leave room for the Duke of Galloway. Nevertheless, standing up and crossing to Missie would have been beyond her at that point. She stayed where she was, a look of dread on her face indicating that events had left her control and disaster was imminent. Lord Wentworth, for his part, had thoroughly woken up and ineffectually kept patting his wife’s hand, saying “There, there,” under his breath, as though she were a recalcitrant horse.

Mrs. Hardcastle, from her post with the butler and the tea things, made an inarticulate sound, but seemed unsure of how to act next. Her husband, who had entered the room last, had arrived soon enough to hear the thump of Marjorie’s fall, followed by Missie’s speech. He crossed quickly to his wife. She turned to him and reached for his hand, which he gave her. Both said nothing further and instead looked at their daughter.

Aurora shot a glance over at Alec. The look on his face was fierce. He had not seen what caused the fall, but Aurora could see he was suspicious as to its cause. She feared he was about to say something they might all bitterly regret. Even more than the words out of my erstwhile friend’s mouth? Or what I believe she has done?

Yes. Even more.

Aurora felt Marjorie’s tight grip on her waist. Oh, this is ridiculous. We must stop this!