Page 37 of Lady Bess

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“And us,” Donna put in brightly.

“And you and Robby’s company, then, very well … have at the poor fellow.”

Maddy clapped her hands and said, “Wonderful, because Anna—the cook here at Searington—was going to show me a recipe for a cake I so would like to be able to put together.”

Bess rounded on her nanny. “Oh, Maddy,” she said with a laugh. “You must not. You know you can’t bake—you know it.”

Maddy wiggled her shoulders defiantly. “Nevertheless, I should like to keep on trying, and you, for your naughty remark, shall be the first one to taste the results of my efforts!”

Laughter broke out, and when it subsided, Bess began a discourse about some of Maddy’s attempts at baking, which had them all laughing for some moments.

The earl watched them and thought he had not felt so lighthearted and happy in years. Life, in fact, had in recent times become predictable.

Something had changed the moment he had clapped eyes on the Lady Bess. From the moment she had entered his world, his heart seemed to come alive with new energy; it seemed to open, fill his body with refreshed blood. His mind and heart joined as he was bombarded with new emotions, and logic had been thrown to the winds. Possibilities loomed in his sight; possibilities that had long ago been discarded came prancing before him and had a name: Lady Bess.

* * *

“When do you think they will return?” Bess asked Donna as she looked up at the early afternoon sun. Their horses trotted sedately down the drive and into the wide field through the open gate.

“Hmmm, if I believe Robby, they are meeting up with the earl, who is not attending the cock fight, at a local tavern afterwards, so there is no telling. Late afternoon I suppose.”

“Where is the earl going then?” Bess asked.

“Stud farm that is nearby. Wants to look at a young colt.”

“Ah,” she said, pleased that he wasn’t attending the cock fight. The thought of the violence involved with setting two poor roosters at one another made her cringe. “’Tis a shame that men so enjoy such horrid things. How can they watch two creatures go after each other?”

“They watch two men in a ring go after one another.” Donna shrugged. “It is the way of the world.”

Bess laughed. “Look at you, all sophisticated and worldly.”

“Well, think about it, Bess. Men watch men beat one another in a ring and wager on the outcome.”

Bess, however, was no longer listening as she stiffened in her saddle and said, rolling her eyes, “Oh, no.”

“What?” Donna looked in the direction Bess was staring and groaned out loud. “Nothing for it now—they have seen us.”

“Yes, but what are they doing on the earl’s lands? Presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“Hmmm, I do,” Donna said on a frown.

Riding at a sedate pace towards them was Bernard Holland in all his finery. He looked as though he should be at a music recital and not in the saddle. Beside him was a female rider they recognized at once as Mary Russell.

“He wants to be your beau,” Donna teased on a low note.

“Wretch, how can you tease me about such a thing when you know he positively makes me ill?” Bess pulled a face.

“He could marry you and live in comfort with a beautiful wife. You can almost see that thought written across his forehead,” Donna pursued on a bark of a laugh.

“Odious child.” Bess arched a threatening look at her friend.

However, an opportunity did not present itself for further banter on the subject, as Mary Russell and her cousin were upon them, with Mrs. Russell exclaiming, “Oh, my dears, we were just on our way to visit with you at Searington.”

“Good morning, ladies,” said Mr. Holland, touching the tip of his fanciful blue velvet hat.

Bess thought he looked more like a court jester than a man of fashion. “Ah, then how fortunate we have met here,” Bess said, meaning these words fervently. If she had been forced to endure Holland at Searington for heaven only knew how long it would have been intolerable. At least they could now ride off and leave them at their backs.

“Well, I see that the earl is not with you, and it was the earl I wished to speak with … it is a matter most urgent,” Mrs. Russell said worriedly.


Tags: Claudy Conn Historical