Page 18 of Scales and Sensibility
She shrugged, taking care not to dislodge Sir Jessamyn. “It was only unfortunate that my luggage—including all of my clothing and my travel purse, too—was still in the carriage when it drove away.”
Sir John’s mouth dropped open, revealing a wad of half-chewed eggs still on his tongue.
Benedict said, his voice sounding weak, “And…your maid? She didn’t realize either?”
This time, Elinor’s shrug was so jerky that Sir Jessamyn let out a chirp of dismay and had to dig his claws in to retain his perch. She had a dire suspicion that her smile had become manic. “Oh, I sent her home, too. Useless girl! I thought I’d just let one of the maids at Hathergill Hall take care of me.”
“GoodGod,” said Sir John.
Elinor’s shoulder burned where Sir Jessamyn’s claws dug into it. Panic rang clanging alarm bells in the back of her head.
She asked, “Are you saying that you don’t have enough maids to assist me after all, Sir John? Because I can, of course, still return to London. I’ll simply send my coachman a message and—”
“No!” he said hastily. “No, no. Never fear. I’ll start after your carriage immediately. I should catch up with it by—”
“No need.” Elinor smiled. “There was a case of clothing in my room when I arrived. Left there by your niece, I presume.” She touched one finger to the gown she was wearing, in demonstration. “Luckily, her clothing fits me well enough. I find it rather amusing to wear such different attire for a week. It is rather a novelty, don’t you think?”
Both men’s gazes dropped to the drab material of her gown, which was every bit as ugly as it had been inexpensive. Elinor would have winced in humiliation if she had been herself. Instead, she beamed at them with all of her might.
Fashionable and wealthy women were allowed to be eccentric and authoritative, where lesser women had to be sensible and submissive. Mrs. De Lacey was the most fashionable and wealthy woman of them all. Therefore, if they really believed she was Mrs. De Lacey…
“Well,” said Sir John, “we had better find you another carriage.”
But for the first time, she saw a hint of suspicion in his eyes.
Chapter 8
“My friend Aubrey has a carriage he might lend us for an hour,” said Benedict. “You did ask about him earlier, didn’t you, Mrs. De Lacey?”
“Oh, he’s still here?” Elinor could have wept with relief. “That would be ideal! Do you think he could escort me himself?”
“Aubrey?” Sir John turned his frown to Benedict. “Whoisthis fellow you keep nattering about?”
“A scholar at Cambridge,” said Elinor. “A specialist in dragons. In fact, I’ve been hoping very much to consult with him about my pet.” She tilted her head to rest against Sir Jessamyn’s warm face as he contentedly chewed his latest chicken slice. For once, she was the one vibrating, not him, as excitement shivered through her fingertips. If Mr. Aubreywasstill here—if she could tell him everything—then—
“Ascholar, eh?” Sir John snorted with disgust. “Never seen the point of those bookish fellows, myself. Not what a real man chooses to do with his time.” He shrugged and turned back to his ale.
Irritation passed over Mr. Hawkins’s face before he masked it. “He’s also the grandson of Sir Toby Grayling.”
Ale spattered across the table as Sir John jerked to attention. “Grayling thebanker,you mean?The one who got himself knighted for paying off all the Prince Regent’s debts five years ago, after Prinny built that monstrosity of a new palace?”
Mr. Hawkins nodded. “My friend is Sir Toby’s only heir.”
“Good Gad! Good…” Sir John’s jaw worked in silent agitation. “Hisonlyheir, you say? Well, he’ll just have to come and stay with us, too, then, of course!” He drew himself up. “We could hardly be so rude as to not invitehim, when we’re asking you to stay. Wouldn’t want to offend any friend of yours, would we?”
Mr. Hawkins’s eyes widened. “I feel I must warn you, Sir John, that he isn’t the most sociable of fellows. He—”
“Balderdash!” Sir John’s voice hardened. “Ifyouare to come to Hathergill Hall, he must as well. I won’t hear another word spoken against it! Do you understand me, sir?”
Mr. Hawkins paled. “Ah…”
Elinor’s conscience twinged. If she truly meant to aid Benedict in his pursuit of Penelope, she ought to intercede with Sir John, shouldn’t she? It couldn’t do Benedict’s courtship any good to be compared to a man who—judging by Sir John’s reaction—possessed a truly mouth-watering inheritance.
But…
No, Elinor thought firmly, and for once, she turned a deaf ear to her conscience.
Mr. Aubrey was hardly likely to take any notice of Penelope—not unless she developed ear ridges and scales, anyway. And Elinor could hardly turn down such a heaven-sent opportunity.
