Page 8 of The Sprinter
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Grace had beenat once delighted she would go to Town and terrified that she would go. She did feel that her mother would be well-cared for with a nurse living in the house. After all, that woman would be far more experienced at treating health complaints than she had ever been. As well, Maggie knew her job well enough and would not shirk too much of her work without supervision and Cook would manage very well on her own. Then, there was the idea that Sir Henry Halford himself would involve himself in her mother’s care. And most importantly, this was her one chance for marriage, and marriage was the only way to get her mother out of the awful dower house. Lady Barlow would not survive many years in it, of that she was certain. She felt she left the house in good conscience, and she would not be so very far away that she could not return in all haste if her mother were to take a bad turn.
On the other hand, she’d thought it rather terrifying to put herself into the hands of Lady Heathway. Nobody had ever dared speak to Lady Barlow as she had. She wondered if anybody had ever dared speak toanybodyin such a manner.
Much to her relief, Grace found Lady Heathway a remarkably changed woman once her point had been gained.
As the carriage rumbled off and Lady Barlow waved weakly from the window, Lady Heathway smiled kindly at Grace and said, “There now, my girl. It has been a trying time, but it has all come out right. There is not a thing wrong with your mother that Sir Henry cannot whip her out of. I expect he will diagnose her a hypochondriac and she will be well-pleased to know what’s wrong with her.”
Grace nodded, though she did not at all agree. The last thing her mother would be delighted to hear was that she imagined her complaints. Grace had sometimes wondered if Lady Barlow did not sometimes exaggerate, but she did not think the lady invented her general weak state. She thought that one so little used to exercise of any sortwouldweaken over time.
She glanced at Lord Gresham riding his horse alongside the carriage. He was devilishly handsome, and Grace was ashamed to reflect on all he had witnessed that day. She and her mother must seem quite mad. But then, she comforted herself that his aunt would have seemed just as mad. The lord himself had only looked perplexed, as one strange turn of events followed the next.
The carriage, which had been going down the middle of the lane Grace knew so well, abruptly angled to the side and Lord Langley dropped back behind them. Grace assumed another carriage came from the opposite direction.
As it was a private drive with only Barlow Hall and the dower house located on it, Grace was certain it was one of the endless carriages and wagons carrying the new viscount’s belongings to his recently inherited estate.
She had not thought they would pause to find out, but a voice called from the other carriage just as they came abreast of it.
“Ho, there,” a man said from his carriage window. “Had you been at the house to call? Are you a neighbor?”
It was the new viscount, dumpy as ever, and though he seemed surprised to see Grace in the carriage, he was not put off. His wife, the new viscountess, peered round his shoulder. Her hair was done in so many twists and turns it appeared to be a Medusa’s maze one could never find the beginning of. It was piled high and had stiff ringlets on either side, all seemingly secured by a generous amount of pomade. Even more startling, Grace was certain the lady’s cheeks were rouged. When the lady eventually passed by the dower house, she might expectquitethe decided glare from Lady Barlow.
“I am Viscount Barlow,” the man said, “and here is my wife, the viscountess.”
Grace could feel Lady Heathway stiffen beside her. Tersely, she said, “I am the Marchioness of Heathway, come to collect Miss Yardley. I intend to do for her what you have seen fit to disregard. Do not bother coming to Town yourselves, as it would be a lonely place—I will ensure every door is barred against you and nobody will care to know you. There will be no club that will have you and you will be cut in the street. Such is the fate ofyoursort. While you are considering your mistakes, you might fix the roof of that ramshackle dower house. Further, madam, you appear rather flushed, but it is nothing a wet cloth and vigorous scrubbing cannot rectify.”
Lady Heathway took a cane that had been laid by for the purpose and rapped on the roof. The carriage moved on and left the new viscount and his bride speechless on the lane.
Grace was certain she heard Lord Gresham laughing as they went.
Well, that wasoneway to welcome the new inhabitants of the hall. Lady Barlow would have been delighted to witness it. Grace found herself rather delighted too.
Grace was beginning to get the idea that Lady Heathway was perfectly agreeable when she was not crossed, but rather a Viking when she was.
She supposed she’d better make every effort not to cross the lady unless it was absolutely necessary.
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George was relievedto be home again and gave his butler and footmen firm instructions that he was not to be found. Any footman of Lady Heathway’s was to leave with no information regarding his whereabouts, even if he was at home. His aunt might chase him round the town with notes and messages, but he would do his best to confound her over precisely when he received and read them. As he did not live more than five houses down from her own house, he must just count on her not having the idea to sit herself at a window with opera glasses to catch him coming and going.
After they’d left Lady Barlow to her deleterious Kent air and he’d listened to his aunt deliver a rather satisfying dressing down to the new viscount, they had stopped at a nearby inn and changed the horses. George had thought that once they’d accomplished that necessity, he would be relieved of any further conversation on the journey.
How had he been wrong so many times in one day!
In between her conversations with Miss Yardley, which were pretty one-sided as far as he could tell, Lady Heathway would lean out the window and call to him on some matter.
Not wind nor dust nor what both of those things had done to her hair, appeared to put her off it.
What did he think of Mr. Roberts? Was the fellow as rich as everybody said? Should he be encouraged or ignored? It was necessary to know such things for Miss Yardley’s sake. Might George make some inquiries?
Who ought to be hired regarding having a sidesaddle made for Miss Yardley? Might George see to it?
Which of her mares would suit Miss Yardley? Might George have a look at them and decide?
Miss Yardley was interested in books, might they all make a trip to Lackington and Allen one day soon?
Her notions seemed to get more whimsical as the journey went on. Should they pursue a voucher from Almack’s? There was of course the difficulty of Lady Heathway not being on good terms with Lady Jersey on account of having named herLady Silenceas an ode to her never-ending chatter. But then, might not George convince her of the innocence of the joke? Or that it was amusing? Or that somebody else said it first?
