Page 24 of The Duke of Ruin
But Polly was not to be deterred, and so Olive took her place at the head of the table, as breakfast was served to her guests. They arrived in dribs and drabs; the Hamerstone twins were the first to sit down, both girls in high spirits as was usual.
"A Lady must never offer too many opinions in public, Poppy" the twin's beleaguered Aunt Augusta said, closing her eyes as though in pain, as Poppy entered into a heated debate with Mr Jackson on the merits of daily exercise for ladies.
"But you've never had an opinion you didn't care to share, Aunt," Alexandra replied innocently,coming to the rescue of her twin, to which Augusta scowled.
Olive bit back a smile; it wouldn't do to be seen taking sides. Instead she engaged Augusta in mild conversation about local gossip, while Poppy continued to argue with Mr. Jackson. Olive kept half an ear on what was passing between the two; it seemed Mr. Jackson had strong beliefs on what a woman should do in her spare time -- and exercising wasn't one of the activities he deemed acceptable. On his list of preferred activities for young ladies were reading, sewing, painting, dancing...Olive stifled a yawn. She hadn't expected a man who had been so enthusiastic about the boarding house reopening to be so stiff and rigid in his beliefs.
Mercifully Mr. Jackson soon excused himself for a morning of scouring the coves for water-born insects. As he left the room, Olive saw Poppy stick her tongue out at his retreating back, though luckily Augusta missed this very unladylike act.
The other guests arrived down after the twins and their harassed Aunt had left for a day of walking the impressive cliffs around St. Jarvis. Audrey Dunham, the willowy poetess amongst their ranks, sipped at black tea absently while Petronella Devoy, the daughter of a Viscount, happily ate everything that was set before her. The two had been friends for years, they explained to Olive, and had spent many summers at Mrs Bakers', where the freedom St. Jarvis granted gave them time to pursue their literary inclinations.
"And what do you write, Miss Devoy?" Olive asked, casually, though once she brokered the question the two women exchanged rather furtive glances.
"Pamphlets mostly," Petronella said in a whisper, her eyes on the door lest anyone walk in on their conversation. "They're of a rather political persuasion."
Gracious; Olive tried not to look too alarmed. She hadn't known she was housing political activists under her own roof. Petronella was beautiful and titled, and probably could have her pick of any man of theton-- even though she was now miles past marriageable age. Olive had to admire her bravery and her convictions; she was certain that Viscount Devoy did not approve of his daughter's interests.
The final guests to take breakfast were Mrs Actrol, an author who had been close to the late Mrs Baker, and her travelling companion Beatrice, who seemed to exist only to do Mrs Actrol's bidding. Both women chatted politely to Olive, expressing their happiness that she had now found help for the domestic tasks.
"You can take your place at the head of the table," Mrs Actrol sniffed, "And stop that flibbertigibbet Mr Jackson monopolising all conversation."
Beatrice nodded furiously, her soft, mousy face crossed with an expression of disdain at the mention of the in-house entomologist.
"Oh, dear," Liv put down her tea cup, "I hadn't realised he was upsetting you Mrs Actrol."
"Upsetting me?"
The older woman drew herself up imperiously,casting Liv a rather disdainful look.
"I have lived through several wars, young lady," she said evenly, "Pursued a career that many thought scandalous. I have dined with kings and thieves, and traveled the continent alone. That dullard Mr Jackson could no more upset me than you could. He bores me, nothing more, nothing less. But I do hate to be bored. Especially by men who think that by speaking to you, they are bestowing on you a great favour."
Beatrice, Liv decided, was just short of banging the table, her approval of Mrs Actrol's speech was so great.
"Flibbertigibbet," the mousy lady whispered instead, her lips pursed in disapproval. Both women departed soon after, for a boating trip around the cove, leaving Liv to ruminate on what they had told her.
"You were right," she said later to Polly, as they were stripping the linen from the beds. "I do need to be present at meal times."
The other woman smiled, but said nothing, and continued folding the sheets. They were on the final room, having worked quickly as a team. Polly had initially protested when Liv had offered to assist her, but she had put her foot down. She had to do some of the work.
Outside the open door, there was the sound of footsteps scurrying up the stairs. Whoever was approaching seemed in a desperate hurry.
"Olive, there you are!"
It was Jane, her cheeks rosy and pink from the exertion of her climb.
"I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner, but Julian has a guest arriving to stay, and he insisted I was there to greet him. I --oh--hello."
Jane paused, as she caught sight of Polly, her face curious.
"Jane this is Polly Jenkins," Liv made the introduction, for they had not met the night before. "Polly this is Miss Jane Deveraux, my good friend and sister to Lord Deveraux."
"Don't hold the last fact against me," Jane quipped, with a bright smile to Polly, who seemed nervous about being introduced to one of the gentry. "When did you arrive? This is marvelous, I've been telling Olive that she needs some proper help."
As she and Polly finished dressing the bed, Olive relayed the story of Lord Keyford's dreadful behaviour at the inn, and how Polly had come to her rescue.
"Oh dear," Jane chewed on her lip, as she took in all that had been said. "It is abominable behaviour on Lord Keyford's part, but --"
Olive watched Jane carefully; a cascade of emotions were passing across her face. Sadness, fear, anger, as she thought on the belligerent Lord.
