Polly?’
‘Sir James ordered sherry in the library for half six, miss.’
It was nearly that now, which gave me at least half an hour before I needed to make an appearance. I wouldn’t dream of being on time. I sat down so Polly could lace my shoes.
‘What’s the gossip below stairs about this Captain Hawksley?’ I asked.
The girl hesitated, then shrugged. The pause told me she’d heard a thing or two. Servants’ gossip was notoriously exaggerated, but still often valuable.
‘Polly?’
She blushed and fidgeted with the edge of her pinafore. ‘Well, miss, they say he … that he …’
‘Out with it, girl!’
Polly looked up at me, then back down at the floor. ‘That he – rides his fillies hard.’
I blinked. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She shrugged sullenly. ‘Don’t know, miss. Just what they say.’
It was likely some crude reference to his courtship methods. He was a cavalry officer, after all. It wasn’t hard to figure out and I didn’t really care to hear such vulgarity.
Before I could tell her to forget it there was a knock at the door. This time it was the cook, Mrs Carson.
‘Begging your pardon, miss, but we’ve run out of sherry and I was wondering if we could offer Madeira instead.’
Why were they bothering me with such trivial matters? I sighed with exasperation. ‘Has my uncle gone missing?’
Mrs Carson had no answer for that, so I told her that Madeira would be acceptable. I didn’t care one way or another.
‘Very good, miss,’ she said. ‘And I wonder … could Polly help me in the kitchen now?’
My shoes were laced and I didn’t need the girl any more, so I dismissed her with a wave of my hand.
Polly dropped a little curtsey and left. I decided to take a turn round the grounds before presenting myself.
‘Ah, Angelina,’ Uncle James said, smiling. ‘Come in. Captain Hawksley, may I introduce my niece, Angelina Duke?’
The captain was younger than I’d been expecting. Most of the gentlemen my uncle introduced me to were old enough to be my father. I was also surprised he wore a plain black tailcoat – impeccably tailored – instead of his uniform. Most soldiers seemed to think that the very sight of a uniform would make a lady swoon from excitement. I thought the practice simply vulgar. But the captain cut a dashing figure and I confess I found him not entirely unappealing.
I closed my fan and extended one gloved hand to the stranger.
‘Enchanté,’ he said, kissing my hand in an affectedly old-fashioned manner. Oh, he was a sly one.
‘Charmed,’ I said, inclining my head and offering only the most minimal of curtseys. I loathed curtseying.
‘Would you care for some Madeira?’
‘Yes, please, Uncle,’ I said, flouncing past the captain in an impertinent rustle. My skirts brushed against him and he was obliged to take a polite step back, though I sensed it was more for my uncle’s sake than for mine.
The conversation was predictably dull and I soon grew weary of it.
‘Shooting and hunting,’ I said with a dramatic sigh. ‘The Crimean War. Is that all you
gentlemen
can talk about?’
The captain apologised with a great show of gallantry and began to tell me of London, appalling me with stories of the dreadful smells and smoke there. I had no wish to visit such a vile place and I explained that Atlanta had been far more civilised. Before the dreadful Yankees had burnt it, that was. Here I spied an opportunity and gave a little sniffle.
He offered me his handkerchief at once and I took it, dabbing at my eyes.
‘I am very sorry to have disturbed you with such talk, miss,’ he said, giving a little bow.
I hid my grin of victory.
Conversation soon turned towards my uncle’s new maid and I didn’t hesitate to voice my frustration.
‘Honestly, Uncle, she’s hopeless! I don’t wonder her previous employer no longer wanted her, but how on earth
you
came to hire her –’
‘She had no previous employer, Angelina. Mr Squyres
‘Sir James ordered sherry in the library for half six, miss.’
It was nearly that now, which gave me at least half an hour before I needed to make an appearance. I wouldn’t dream of being on time. I sat down so Polly could lace my shoes.
‘What’s the gossip below stairs about this Captain Hawksley?’ I asked.
The girl hesitated, then shrugged. The pause told me she’d heard a thing or two. Servants’ gossip was notoriously exaggerated, but still often valuable.
‘Polly?’
She blushed and fidgeted with the edge of her pinafore. ‘Well, miss, they say he … that he …’
‘Out with it, girl!’
Polly looked up at me, then back down at the floor. ‘That he – rides his fillies hard.’
I blinked. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She shrugged sullenly. ‘Don’t know, miss. Just what they say.’
It was likely some crude reference to his courtship methods. He was a cavalry officer, after all. It wasn’t hard to figure out and I didn’t really care to hear such vulgarity.
Before I could tell her to forget it there was a knock at the door. This time it was the cook, Mrs Carson.
‘Begging your pardon, miss, but we’ve run out of sherry and I was wondering if we could offer Madeira instead.’
Why were they bothering me with such trivial matters? I sighed with exasperation. ‘Has my uncle gone missing?’
Mrs Carson had no answer for that, so I told her that Madeira would be acceptable. I didn’t care one way or another.
‘Very good, miss,’ she said. ‘And I wonder … could Polly help me in the kitchen now?’
My shoes were laced and I didn’t need the girl any more, so I dismissed her with a wave of my hand.
Polly dropped a little curtsey and left. I decided to take a turn round the grounds before presenting myself.
‘Ah, Angelina,’ Uncle James said, smiling. ‘Come in. Captain Hawksley, may I introduce my niece, Angelina Duke?’
The captain was younger than I’d been expecting. Most of the gentlemen my uncle introduced me to were old enough to be my father. I was also surprised he wore a plain black tailcoat – impeccably tailored – instead of his uniform. Most soldiers seemed to think that the very sight of a uniform would make a lady swoon from excitement. I thought the practice simply vulgar. But the captain cut a dashing figure and I confess I found him not entirely unappealing.
I closed my fan and extended one gloved hand to the stranger.
‘Enchanté,’ he said, kissing my hand in an affectedly old-fashioned manner. Oh, he was a sly one.
‘Charmed,’ I said, inclining my head and offering only the most minimal of curtseys. I loathed curtseying.
‘Would you care for some Madeira?’
‘Yes, please, Uncle,’ I said, flouncing past the captain in an impertinent rustle. My skirts brushed against him and he was obliged to take a polite step back, though I sensed it was more for my uncle’s sake than for mine.
The conversation was predictably dull and I soon grew weary of it.
‘Shooting and hunting,’ I said with a dramatic sigh. ‘The Crimean War. Is that all you
gentlemen
can talk about?’
The captain apologised with a great show of gallantry and began to tell me of London, appalling me with stories of the dreadful smells and smoke there. I had no wish to visit such a vile place and I explained that Atlanta had been far more civilised. Before the dreadful Yankees had burnt it, that was. Here I spied an opportunity and gave a little sniffle.
He offered me his handkerchief at once and I took it, dabbing at my eyes.
‘I am very sorry to have disturbed you with such talk, miss,’ he said, giving a little bow.
I hid my grin of victory.
Conversation soon turned towards my uncle’s new maid and I didn’t hesitate to voice my frustration.
‘Honestly, Uncle, she’s hopeless! I don’t wonder her previous employer no longer wanted her, but how on earth
you
came to hire her –’
‘She had no previous employer, Angelina. Mr Squyres
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