The Homecoming Read Free Page B

and they are housed and fed. Your descent to the common state has made you common, Aunt.”
    Miss Trumble raised her brows and studied him.
    “I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly.
    “It is not only my Lizzie, you see, who has a wayward tongue.”
    “Will you accompany the Beverleys?”
    “Of course. I am also chaperone to Lizzie.”
    “May I point out that such a chit
as
Lizzie Beverley needs no chaperone with me around?”
    She smiled. “Nonetheless, I shall come. Which brings me to the second reason for my visit. When you invite your guests, could you include a suitable young man of good family for my Lizzie?”
    He sighed but rang the bell and summoned his secretary again.
    “Mr. Bond,” he said, “be so good when you invite the others to include an invitation to some suitable young man. We are desirous of finding a husband for Miss Lizzie Beverley. Does she have a dowry?”
    “She will have a fair one,” said Miss Trumble, privately thinking that she would do all in her power to shake a good one out of the cheese-paring Lady Beverley.
    “Then see to it, Mr. Bond.”
    “Very good, Your Grace.”
    “Mr. Bond!” Miss Trumble summoned him back as he was about to bow his way out of the room.
    “Madam?”
    “We wish someone of spirit and intelligence and good humour.”
    “Very good, Miss Trumble.”
    “You know who I am?”
    “I made it my business to find out everyone who resides in the neighbourhood of Mannerling, madam.”
    “You are an excellent young man. Do you eat enough?”
    Peter blushed and looked towards his master but the duke had crossed to the window and was staring out. “Yes, madam. His Grace has the best chef in the country.”
    “Do not eat too much rich food, Mr. Bond,” said Miss Trumble, “and go for walks in the fresh air.”
    “Yes, madam.”
    “When is your day off?”
    “I get one day off every quarter-day, madam.”
    “Tisk. You must find time for yourself.”
    He bowed out again.
    The duke swung round angrily. “You forget yourself, Aunt. He is my servant and he will work any hours that I choose.”
    “He does not look strong,” she said mildly. She drew on her gloves and picked up her reticule. “Until tomorrow, Gervase.”
    Lady Beverley accepted the invitation to tea as her due. She had decided that Miss Trumble must have committed some grave scandal to have reduced her to her present lowly position and therefore there was no need to treat her any differently.
    To Miss Trumble’s relief, Lizzie showed no joy at the prospect of a visit to Mannerling. The governess was always frightened that the old Beverley obsession with getting Mannerling back would rise again in Lizzie.
    But Miss Trumble was irritated, when they climbed into the small carriage driven by Barry, that Lady Beverley did not even seem to notice her daughter’s new modish appearance. The day was sunny and warm. Great clouds like galleons under full sail moved in stately procession across a blue sky. Lizzie’s red hair was dressed in one of the new Roman fashions and curled and pomaded so that it almost seemed to shine with purple lights. She was wearing a lightleaf-green muslin gown with a broad green silk sash. A little straw hat was perched at a jaunty angle on her curls.
    Lizzie felt strange and not quite like herself. Clothes were a comfort, she thought. In such a modish gown and with her smart new hairstyle, she was sure she would behave like a lady. “When in doubt, only speak when spoken to,” Miss Trumble had warned her.
    So Lizzie was determined to behave. There would only be herself, Lady Beverley, Miss Trumble, and the duke. Her mother would prose on about the great days of Mannerling when the Beverleys were in residence and Miss Trumble would supply her usual tactful conversation. There would be nothing for her to do but listen and nod from time to time.
    But at that moment, the Duke of Severnshire was ringing for his secretary.
    When Peter came in, the duke leaned back in his chair