I believe he went riding.”
“Drat. Thank you, Potter. Come on, Emily, let’s see what she has to say.” Jodie led the way into the drawing room.
“Who is it from?” Emily was puzzled. “I did not know you were acquainted with anyone else in England. In this time, I mean.”
Jodie explained about Dr. Brown as she pulled off her gloves. Picking up the letter again, she noticed that it had been franked by Lord Font. Her heart sank.
“We wrote to her at Font House,” she said. “This is probably just a note from Lord Font saying she’s never been heard of. How do I open this without ripping the whole thing?”
Emily fetched a paperknife and carefully slit the seal. Unfolding the sheet, Jodie looked at once at the signature.
“Cassandra Brown! Thank heaven.” She sank into a chair. “She is living in London with a Lady Bestor, and will be happy to receive us there whenever convenient. Her letter’s as cautious as ours was. Oh, she has signed it ‘Mrs.’—but if she had married here she would not still be ‘Brown’.”
“Perhaps she is passing as a widow. That would make it much easier for a female on her own. I wonder who Lady Bestor is.”
“Who knows.” Jodie shrugged. “I wish Giles was here. We shall have to go to London.”
“Let us go and tell Charlotte. I expect she is taking her enforced rest. Roland is so solicitous, it makes her feel horridly guilty.” Emily had been let into the secret of Charlotte’s supposed pregnancy, since Jodie hadn’t the least regard for the impropriety of discussing such matters with an unmarried young lady.
Charlotte was reclining upon a daybed in her dressing room. She was delighted to see them and set down her book, Mansfield Park , without regret.
“It is very odd,” she confided. “Why, the hero is a sadly ordinary clergyman, and Fanny is a poor little dab of a girl. All the characters might well be one’s neighbours. There is nothing half so exciting in it as having Jodie and Giles appear from the future.”
“The author is very much admired in the future,” Jodie assured her.
“Oh, then I shall try to finish it. Did you enjoy seeing the market?”
“Very much, but we have come to tell you about this letter.” Once again she explained about Cassandra Brown. “So you see, we must go to London.”
“Perhaps Giles will want to go on his own.”
“Let him just try! I need to research the amusements of the city. I suppose I shan’t be able to gatecrash the ton parties, but there are plenty of other things to see.”
Charlotte sat bolt upright. “I have a simply splendid notion! We shall all go. Then I shall be able to sponsor you to balls and routs and Emily can have a proper Season before she is married.”
“Roland will never agree to it,” said Emily wistfully.
“Yes, he will, for I mean to tell him that I want to consult a London doctor, and that only the best furnishings from the best shops are good enough for his heir’s nursery. I am sorry to deceive him further, but sooner or later I shall really have a baby so it will not all be for nothing.”
Jodie was struck by an unpleasant possibility. Suppose Charlotte never had the child she so confidently expected? Suppose she had died young and Roland remarried, making some unknown woman Giles’s ancestor? Giles was as vague about his family tree as Roland had shown himself to be in accepting his unknown cousins. He was certain only that the direct line from father to son was unbroken. Where inheritance was concerned, mothers counted for nothing.
It did not bear thinking about. Jodie joined Emily in smothering Charlotte with hugs and kisses and congratulations on her brilliant plan, until she squeaked for mercy.
Emily’s hopes flourished. “Perhaps I shall meet someone else Roland would consider a suitable husband.”
“You know, Charlotte,” said Jodie, “it could be a way out of your own problem too. You can tell Roland the doctor says you were mistaken about the
“Drat. Thank you, Potter. Come on, Emily, let’s see what she has to say.” Jodie led the way into the drawing room.
“Who is it from?” Emily was puzzled. “I did not know you were acquainted with anyone else in England. In this time, I mean.”
Jodie explained about Dr. Brown as she pulled off her gloves. Picking up the letter again, she noticed that it had been franked by Lord Font. Her heart sank.
“We wrote to her at Font House,” she said. “This is probably just a note from Lord Font saying she’s never been heard of. How do I open this without ripping the whole thing?”
Emily fetched a paperknife and carefully slit the seal. Unfolding the sheet, Jodie looked at once at the signature.
“Cassandra Brown! Thank heaven.” She sank into a chair. “She is living in London with a Lady Bestor, and will be happy to receive us there whenever convenient. Her letter’s as cautious as ours was. Oh, she has signed it ‘Mrs.’—but if she had married here she would not still be ‘Brown’.”
“Perhaps she is passing as a widow. That would make it much easier for a female on her own. I wonder who Lady Bestor is.”
“Who knows.” Jodie shrugged. “I wish Giles was here. We shall have to go to London.”
“Let us go and tell Charlotte. I expect she is taking her enforced rest. Roland is so solicitous, it makes her feel horridly guilty.” Emily had been let into the secret of Charlotte’s supposed pregnancy, since Jodie hadn’t the least regard for the impropriety of discussing such matters with an unmarried young lady.
Charlotte was reclining upon a daybed in her dressing room. She was delighted to see them and set down her book, Mansfield Park , without regret.
“It is very odd,” she confided. “Why, the hero is a sadly ordinary clergyman, and Fanny is a poor little dab of a girl. All the characters might well be one’s neighbours. There is nothing half so exciting in it as having Jodie and Giles appear from the future.”
“The author is very much admired in the future,” Jodie assured her.
“Oh, then I shall try to finish it. Did you enjoy seeing the market?”
“Very much, but we have come to tell you about this letter.” Once again she explained about Cassandra Brown. “So you see, we must go to London.”
“Perhaps Giles will want to go on his own.”
“Let him just try! I need to research the amusements of the city. I suppose I shan’t be able to gatecrash the ton parties, but there are plenty of other things to see.”
Charlotte sat bolt upright. “I have a simply splendid notion! We shall all go. Then I shall be able to sponsor you to balls and routs and Emily can have a proper Season before she is married.”
“Roland will never agree to it,” said Emily wistfully.
“Yes, he will, for I mean to tell him that I want to consult a London doctor, and that only the best furnishings from the best shops are good enough for his heir’s nursery. I am sorry to deceive him further, but sooner or later I shall really have a baby so it will not all be for nothing.”
Jodie was struck by an unpleasant possibility. Suppose Charlotte never had the child she so confidently expected? Suppose she had died young and Roland remarried, making some unknown woman Giles’s ancestor? Giles was as vague about his family tree as Roland had shown himself to be in accepting his unknown cousins. He was certain only that the direct line from father to son was unbroken. Where inheritance was concerned, mothers counted for nothing.
It did not bear thinking about. Jodie joined Emily in smothering Charlotte with hugs and kisses and congratulations on her brilliant plan, until she squeaked for mercy.
Emily’s hopes flourished. “Perhaps I shall meet someone else Roland would consider a suitable husband.”
“You know, Charlotte,” said Jodie, “it could be a way out of your own problem too. You can tell Roland the doctor says you were mistaken about the
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