Petticoat Rebellion Read Free Page A

it was going to be. But of one thing she felt confident. Without Lord Penfel to forbid it, she could easily convince that silly lady to show her the da Vinci cartoons.
     

Chapter Three
     
    Sifton had the guests shown to the west wing, where they occupied four stately chambers, two on one side of the corridor, two across from them. Lady Susan’s and Annabelle’s rooms looked out on the front of the estate, Abbie’s and Kate’s on the rear. Abbie was gratified to see she was being treated as a real lady—a guest, rather than a sort of higher class of servant. Her room was charming, with dainty French furnishings and green damask hangings. The paintings in a room were always of particular interest to her, and she noticed that the Penfel love of art was not confined to the gallery. Her room held exquisite Flemish flower paintings. She would have preferred pictures of people, but she knew enough about art to appreciate what she saw.
    She strolled to one of a pair of tall windows and gazed out, hugging to herself how fortunate she was to be here. All views were unbounded, as befit an estate designed in the eighteenth century. Abbie’s view was of the walled home garden below, with espaliered fruit trees forming intricate designs against the golden stone. Neat rows of vegetables extended the length of the enclosure. Two gardeners worked over the rows.
    Beyond the walls was a meadow, with a forest forming a backdrop in the distance. Abbie wondered at the unwonted activity going forth in the meadow. It looked as if tents were being erected. Surely gypsies were not setting up camp this close to Penfel! With the three young ladies on the estate, this seemed dangerous. Yet she disliked to tell Lady Penfel her duty. Abbie decided to have a word with Sifton, and ran down the elegantly curved staircase, with the brass handrail worn smooth by generations of trailing fingers.
    Sifton had apparently heard her light footfalls, for his tall, stately figure appeared like a genie from a small room near the door.
    “May I help you—madam?”he inquired. The brief hesitation was due to deciding what title to confer on Miss Fairchild. The “madam”was not a slur on her age, but a compliment to her obviously genteel background. Not a mere governess, as he had feared, but a superior sort of impoverished lady.
    “I believe gypsies are setting up camp on the estate, Sifton,”she said. “Is her ladyship aware of it?”
    “It is not gypsies, madam. Her ladyship is aware of the campers. His lordship wrote her a note requesting her to make the folks welcome.”
    “But who are they?”
    His distaste was evident. “It is O’Leary’s Circus, madam. A traveling horse show with acrobats, music, dancing animals, and so on. Her ladyship was not aware of it when she invited Lady Susan and her friends.”
    “Oh, dear! How long are they staying?”
    “A week.”
    “Then, they will be here for our entire visit. I wonder what I ought to do.”
    “Perhaps inform Miss Slatkin—and meanwhile, we shall keep a tight watch on the young ladies.”His sympathetic eye reinforced the suggestion that he would aid her in this difficult task.
    As they spoke, an echo of drumbeats came wafting through the grand hall.“That will be the performers arriving now,”he said. “I believe they march through town to incite interest for the show. Her ladyship has been eagerly awaiting them.”He bowed and left.
    Abbie stood a moment with her head whirling. She must notify Miss Slatkin at once! The visit would be terminated. She would not get to see the da Vinci cartoons. Severely as she felt the loss, she could not face a week of trying to control the girls—Kate in particular—with a bunch of rowdy circus folks less than a mile away. But could the girls return to school? The staff were all away on holiday. Miss Slatkin had spoken of painting the bedchambers. Oh, dear!
    As she stood, thinking, Lady Penfel came bustling into the hall. “What fun!”she cried, and