Page 38 of Lady Mary's May Day Mischief
“All day long, ma’am. Nighttime, too.”
“Anything that I say aloud?” God forbid!
He rolled his eyes. “You know.”
She crossed her arms and tapped a toe on the wooden floor. She did know. But she’d hear him utter the words. She could not bear to. “Well. What?”
“‘I have one more problem to fix.’”
I do.
“‘Me.’”
Chapter 11
He jogged down the front steps of ‘The Shop’. The school he had loved, that had given him so much integrity and purpose, would always live in his heart as his salvation. But today, his commanding officer gave him no orders. He remained in limbo.
What was he to do now?
Without resolution to his status in the Corps, he could not make any final decisions about his future. Each day must come as it would. With decisions that he could make in good conscience. About his home. His land. His tenants.
His coachman pulled alongside, his footman jumping down at the ready to the door.
Inside, he sat and brushed his hand down his uniform. He hated to part with it, but he might have to. He’d have to choose a priority and live by it. Home or profession? He doubted he could do both and do them well.
His commander had discussed possible assignments. Soon the Corps would receive new orders for work abroad. Settlements in Quebec, relations with natives in Kathmandu, Delhi and expeditions to Algiers were all possible assignments for any engineer. One of his friends was soon to be appointed adjutant of the Royal Sappers and Miners in Woolwich, a good post at home. But Blake could not and should not count on an assignment here in Britain. A few of his comrades hoped to be placed on half-pay. That seemed a half life of uncertainty and he would not request it. One alternative to give him ultimate freedom was for him to sell his commission. To part from the service grieved him. The Corps had given him purpose, education and fulfillment. It had nurtured an excitement to create useful structures—roads and dams and maps to chart the paths for others. How could he leave it?
Without firm direction as a soldier, he had two goals now. To see to his duties as baron at home. And to see to his friend, Langdon. The first he could address with money, skill and delight. The second, he had no goal other than renewing a relationship he’d valued for years.
After those two were accomplished, he could address himself to the task of sorting his personal life. He’d have it out with Mary, as he should have done at Courtland Hall. But he’d walked the floor most of the night after the ugly revelations in the orangery and when he’d knocked upon her door the next morning, Welles told him she’d departed already for home. Try as he might, he never thought Mary mean-spirited. But this childish business had gone awry. He’d have this out with her to settle the issue once and for all.
Next week, he’d journey to Bath.
* * *
She returned to her aunt’s house late in the day, handing over her hat and her pelisse with a polite smile for the family butler.
“Tea, Lady Mary? Your aunt awaits you in the yellow salon.”
“Thank you, Jenkins. I will go.”Though she’ll ask me a thousand questions.Gossip of much ado at the Courtlands’ May Day frolic had met her aunt’s ears and she was persistent in requiring details. Mary girded herself for the foray.
“Good afternoon, Aunt. Lovely day, isn’t it?” Mary had not seen the lady before she left. Her aunt took her breakfast in her bed each day until noon. Mary had enjoyed a solitary meal.
“I say, my dear girl, you look pale.” Her aunt was of substantial figure, awash in an apple green silk sarsnet that suited her parchment complexion which she famously treated with lemons. Four of them. Sliced. Every day. “Cold outside, wouldn’t you say?”
“Unusual.”
“You look suited for it, I’m pleased to say.” Her aunt waggled a finger at her wool walking dress with benevolent approval. “Your mama would worry over you, with your head in your plants and your eyes on your telescope.”
Mary considered what that posture would look like and surrendered to a laugh. It was her first in many days. “She would.”
“Come sit here beside me.” She tapped the cushion of the old Queen Anne settee. Proximity to Aunt Georgina always meant a storm was coming. “Now. Where’ve you been? Visiting one of your school friends?”
“No.” She hesitated to give all the details.
“You’ve been gone all afternoon.”
“Indeed.”
