Page 42 of The Rake's Daughter
Izzy grinned. “While we were gallivanting around on horseback this morning, I was hatching out a plan.”
“Really? I thought you were hatching out yet another quarrel with Lord Salcott. It certainly looked that way to me. Was that what his apology was about?”
Izzy pulled a face. She still had very mixed feelings about the Grumpy Guardian, and wasn’t proud of her behavior. And his apology had quite unsettled her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Clarissa sighed. “Why do you always antagonize him? You’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”
“Are you calling your noble guardian afly, Clarissa? For shame.” Izzy laughed at Clarissa’s expression. “Besides, when he talks down to me in that bossy, irritating way he has, Ifeelvinegary. Now, do you want to hear the rest of myplan or not?” She glanced at the servants who were waiting to clear the table. “Let’s go outside.”
***
It was a fine, dry evening, but a brisk breeze had sprung up and they decided to sit in the summerhouse, a fascinating octagonal structure of vaguely oriental design, built almost entirely of glass. Lady Tarrant had told them where the summerhouse key was kept hidden, but the weather had been so good, they’d only glanced through the windows and hadn’t been inside.
Entering the pretty little building they found a daybed and several comfy bamboo chairs piled with big squashy cushions. Clarissa threw herself into one. “Oh, isn’t this lovely? What a perfect place this would be for reading. And we must have a picnic in here one rainy day.”
“A picnic,” Izzy repeated thoughtfully. “Yes.” She made a note on the pad she’d brought with her.
“So, why did you kick me under the table?” Clarissa asked, wriggling back among the cushions. “I was only going to point out that Lady Davenham’s house was but a short walk away and we wouldn’t need the carriage. It’s not as if Lady Scattergood is infirm or anything. A walk would probably do her good.”
The twilight was turning from deep cobalt to navy blue; it would be dark soon.
“I know.” A dozen or so candles in holders sat on a shelf. Izzy lit them and placed them at intervals around the summerhouse. “But Lady Scattergood doesn’t go out in the open air, haven’t you noticed?”
“Yes, but what does that signify?”
“There was a woman like that in the village I lived in with Mama. She never, ever left her house—Mama said she was frightened to go out, I don’t know why. But if you visited her in her home, she was perfectly normal andhospitable. I think Lady Scattergood is a bit like that. So she won’t walk out in the garden, or in the street, or go shopping with us, but maybe in a closed carriage, going from one house to another, she feels safer.”
“Oh. Well, at least she agreed to take us. Now, tell me about this plan of yours.”
Izzy began, “It’s a bit outrageous—he’s going to be furious—but I thought we might—”
“What are you doing in here? This place is private!” A sharp voice interrupted them. The summerhouse door opened, and a young woman of about their own age stepped in. Plump and pretty with glossy dark hair clustered around her face in fat sausage curls, she was fussily dressed in a lavishly trimmed pink-and-white dress covered in frills and tucks.
She eyed them suspiciously. “This place is for residents only. How did you get in?”
“We are staying with Lady Scattergood,” Clarissa explained.
“Is it any concern of yours?” Izzy said at the same time. The girl’s accusatory tone annoyed her.
“That peculiar old lady?Hmph!Mama and I thought she was dead.” The girl narrowed her eyes at Izzy. “And of course it is my business. We don’t want riffraff getting in.”
“And yet here you are,” Izzy said with a smile.
The girl stiffened. “How dare—”
“Oh, please don’t let’s quarrel.” Clarissa floundered her way out of the squashy cushions and approached the girl, smiling. “How do you do? I’m Clarissa Studley and this is my sister Isobel, but we call her Izzy. And you are...?”
The girl pouted, slanted a frosty glance at Izzy, then said with an air of consequence, “I am Miss Millicent Harrington.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, Miss Harrington,” Clarissa said. “We’ve only recently arrived in London, and sofar we’ve only met Lord and Lady Tarrant and their daughters.”
Miss Harrington sniffed. “They’re not her daughters. She only married him recently. Her nephew, Lord Thornton, is a diplomat, you know. He married her goddaughter. They are living in Vienna at the moment.”
“Yes, we know. Won’t you sit down?” Clarissa gestured to one of the comfy chairs. “It’s so nice to meet someone of our own age.”
Miss Harrington gave Izzy another cold look and then, as if conferring a favor on Clarissa, consented to sit. “I am making my come-out this season,” she announced. “We have vouchers for Almack’s.”
“How delightful,” Clarissa said. “We hope to visit Almack’s, but nothing is yet organized.”
