Page 44 of Daisy and the Duke
“Mr. Kemble?” she asked, seeing him lean over to greet her. “Good evening!”
“To you as well, Miss Merriot.” He smiled. “This is my new compromise with my doctor. I get to be outside, but with no exertion to speak of.”
“That sounds most sensible,” she said, pleased to see how healthy he looked.
“May I offer you a ride to the gates of the Grange?” he asked politely. The driver of the phaeton had already leaned over to open the door, so Daisy climbed in, not wanting to be rude.
“Thank you,” she said. “I was just gathering some nuts for our dinner.” She gestured to the basket.
“Sounds very industrious. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to do as much.” He looked rather hopeful about it, and Daisy thought that a good sign.
He asked if the ladies of the Grange had received their invitation to the ball.
Daisy nodded, but added that she herself would not be attending.
Mr. Kemble frowned. “Whyever not? Please come. There will be fireworks. Have you ever seen fireworks?”
“No. I’ve read about them.” Daisy paused. “Forgive me, but wouldn’t his grace hate fireworks? They’re so close to the explosions during the war.” Having heard the story of his experience, and seeing how he’d reacted to the noise while they were by the pond, Daisy doubted if Tristan wanted to hear anything loud or violent.
“It’s true,” Kemble confirmed. “But I had the idea that if he should see and hear such sounds in a place where he’s having a good time, it will help to recalibrate his mind. Of course, that presupposes this party is a place where he’ll have a good time.” He looked at her. “If you’ll be there, the duke’s chances of enjoying the evening will improve considerably.”
“But you see, I can’t, as I have nothing suitable to wear for such an occasion.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Kemble said, looking upset. “We just assumed…since the baroness…”
“Bella will be there,” she assured him. “Along with Lady Rutherford.”
“Yes, but I know that Tris…” He trailed off, looking preoccupied. “There must be something…”
The carriage came to halt. “Rutherford Grange, miss,” the driver said, leaning down once more to open the door for Daisy.
She alighted and then accepted the basket Mr. Kemble handed over to her. “Thank you for the ride, and you mustn’t be concerned that I can’t come to the ball. It’s a very kind gesture to invite me, but I am aware that it’s not practical.”
Mr. Kemble looked sad. “I wish there was a way to change your mind.”
“It’s my wardrobe that one would have to change, Mr. Kemble. But it would take a miracle. Please don’t worry about it anymore. Good night!”
“Well, I reserve the right to worry,” Kemble said, leaning back in his seat. “Good night, Miss Merriot.”
Daisy spent the next few days as she usually did. Life was busy, but she managed to send a few letters. One went to Camellia, who was abed with a nasty cold according to her last letter. Daisy told her that if it persisted, she’d arrange to send some of Tabitha’s throat drops. Despite the abundance of apothecaries in London, Daisy secretly believed Tabitha’s cures were more reliable. Another letter went to Rose and Poppy, in which Daisy told them about the ball. It was still exciting, even though she herself wouldn’t be able to attend.
The routine of life at the Grange was interrupted only by Lady Rutherford fussing about every last detail of Bella’s outfit. A seamstress couldn’t be found at such short notice, so Daisy used one of the baroness’s old fur wraps to trim a floor-length cape for Bella. Daisy was kept busy pressing fabrics and stitching up stockings and running about on the littlest errands.
The mornings grew cooler day by day. The leaves on the oaks had turned and the leaves on the birches fell. It was that perfect season between seasons, when the sky was silver in the morning and gold in the evening. But the afternoons were still mellow and warm, like a second summer, with skies bluer than any June day.
She encountered Tristan later that day, while she was walking through a meadow at the very corner of the Grange property. He was riding, and seemed to only cross her path by chance, but Daisy suspected that luck was not what brought him to the spot. He brightened when he saw her, and Daisy waited for him, feeling her heart rise.
“Daisy,” he called when he was close enough. “I’m happy to see you.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” she returned, feeling warmth in her belly at the sight of him. “What brings you here?”
“Stormer, obviously,” he said with a smile, as he dismounted and walked over to her.
“I meant…” she began.
“I know what you meant, darling Daisy.” He took her hand in his. “I was hoping to see you. One would think you’ve been hiding from me.”
“No, never.” She avoided telling him that the baroness had ordered her to remain at the Grange. Knowing Tristan, he’d blame himself for Daisy’s restrictions. “I’ve been busy. There are a lot of preparations to make for your event,” she said, thinking of how she had to sew some extra pearls onto Bella’s gown later.
