Page 64 of Lady Fiona's Tall, Dark Folly
Chapter 17
Tuesday, May 28, 1816
Charlton Manor
“Now you’ve seen every bit of the house, Lady Fiona.” The Countess of Charlton sat down on the grand settee in the green room. She’d given Fifi an extensive tour of the Manor, complete with stories of numerous Charltons of yore. This had been a sign of a thaw in the lady’s regard of Fifi. “What do you think of it?”
“I enjoyed it tremendously. Rory has told me other tales and I long to lose myself in the library to learn more.” Fifi headed for the wing chair near the grand Adam’s fireplace.
“Please, Fiona,” the countess beckoned—and Fifi noticed she’d been more familiar, the lady’s first. “I do hope I may address you that way?”
“I would be pleased, my lady, yes.”
“Good.” She patted the cushion. “Sit beside me.”
This was also a first. Fifi had arrived at the Manor three weeks ago hoping she might bridge the divide between this lady and herself. Accepting his mother’s need to become acquainted with her, Fifi called upon her good manners and her patience. Rory’s mother had welcomed her that first afternoon when he had taken her to his home. Her words had been polite, her manner stiff, even as Fifi also saw in her hazel eyes the curiosity and hope they might come to a new mode of living. His mother was attempting to come to terms with Fifi in her home and in her family—for all their sakes.
Fifi had less of a challenge. Rory was his gracious self, filling in during tense moments when conversation lagged. Annalise who had immediately accepted Fifi as her prospective sister-in-law, was her natural buoyant self. Not knowing of the rift between Fifi’s family and her own, Rory’s sister was a boon companion and eager reporter of myriad facts about the Manor, the tenants and the estate.
At the countess’s invitation, Fifi happily took her place beside the lady.
Barging into the room was Star, Rory’s favorite dog from his hunt kennel. The animal had met Fifi the day after she and Rory arrived and had taken a distinct liking to her new mistress. Star now jumped fences to join Fifi on walks and opened doors to sit at Fifi’s feet in the house. Rory had repeatedly ordered the dog back to the kennels, but no avail. Star had her heart set on Fifi. Surrendering to the improbable of a hunting dog in the house, the countess insisted the dog have a bath before he was permitted the run of their private rooms. Fifi had taken the compliment as an omen all here might come to love her. He loped over to sit atop her slippers now and Fifi bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“Oh, do chuckle, all of you,” insisted the countess—and the three younger ones in the room did. “I will not have her in my suite, but in any instance, she prefers you, my dear Fiona.”
My dear Fiona.
With that endearment, Fee sat taller.
A footman approached and placed a tray laden with fine cakes, biscuits and pastry upon the table before Lady Charlton.
The countess began to serve. When Annalise, Rory and Fifi had received their tea, she began to pile high a plate for Fifi. “I know you like Cook’s tiny chocolate cakes. Two, today?”
Usually Fifi’s mouth watered at the teatime delights here. But an odd queasiness in her stomach told her to refuse the sinful delicacies. She smiled, but shook her head. “Wedding nerves have destroyed my appetite. Thank you, my lady, but I will have only tea.”
The woman sent her a curious look, her hand mid-air over the pastries. “Nothing to be concerned about. One marries only once. The bride is expected to have butterflies. Never more than the groom. Do you have them, Rory?”
Fifi’s husband-to-be looked nothing like an anxious bridegroom. Dressed in a forest green vest, dark silver frock coat and shockingly white cravat, her intended sat with one long leg over the other, nonchalant as a favored cavalier paying court to a king. “You see me here, Mama, but I assure you—” and he looked straight at Fifi, “—I am already at the altar.”
“A good thing,” declared his sister with a wink. “We’ll have no runaway brides or grooms here.”
Fifi laughed. She’d had two letters last week, one from her Aunt Courtland and the other from Esme herself. Her aunt expressed her condolences about the death of Fifi’s mother and her sorrow she’d been unable to attend the final service at the churchyard. Her aunt’s surprise and pleasure at news that Fifi would marry Charlton was her delightful ending.
Esme’s letter was filled with her own condolences to Fifi, but it too included a note of congratulations. “I am so thrilled you have found joy with a man whom you respect.” Fifi had written in return to her cousin, the new Marchioness of Northington, that she was happy to hear news of their elopement and their reconciliation. “May you be as happy as I am,” Fifi had closed.
The countess filled other plates with the bounty from the kitchen and handed them around.
“Now, you will all of you indulge me as I must speak and you will not interrupt me until I declare I am done.”
Annalise worked in vain at hiding a smile.
Rory, on the other hand, sat forward. “What’s amiss?”
“Not a thing, not a thing. Now sit back, sir, and let me talk.”
His grey eyes shot to Fifi’s, but she took no alarm as he did. Why that was, she could not say, except that at this moment she sat, by invitation, next to the lady who would tomorrow become her mother-in-law.
The lady sat back, the look of her one of a queen in command. “I have three announcements. First, I am pleased to tell you that I’ve decided to take the air. A holiday. Appropriate as I haven’t done that in many years.”
