say, let’s have a go at him now we’ve got him under our roof.’
‘And how can you “have a go at him”, as you so vulgarly phrase it, sister dear?’ demanded Letty sweetly . ‘I have a folio of water-colours to show him, not to mention entertaining him by playing the harp. What have you to offer?’
‘Show him the gardens,’ said Clarrie. ‘All gentlemen like gardens.’
Hannah drew back from the window. ‘I confess tofinding myself a trifle hungry, Miss Grenier,’ she said. ‘Perhaps we should descend.’
‘I will have something sent up on a tray to my room,’ said Yvonne.
Hannah thought quickly. ‘That will not do, you know. Your hosts would find it most odd if you did not put in an appearance.’
‘I will say I have the headache.’ Yvonne looked stubborn.
‘And what a waste of time that will be on this fine day,’ said Hannah bracingly. ‘And you in that old carriage gown. Do you not have a pretty muslin? The day is warm.’
‘I have a sprig.’
‘Then put it on! I can lend you a fine shawl. Come, Miss Grenier. It is necessary for both of us to talk to the marquis further and find out what plans he has made for conveying us to York.’
At last Yvonne reluctantly agreed and soon she and Hannah were descending the main staircase. A footman met them in the hall and led them through a saloon and out onto the terrace where the Trant family, now joined by the marquis, were seated at table.
The marquis rose and made the introductions. At first Lady Trant and her daughters only had eyes for Yvonne. Hannah thought Yvonne was looking very pretty and appealing and hoped the marquis thought so too. Yvonne was wearing a white muslin gown embroidered with little pink sprigs. It had a low neckline and puffed sleeves. Over it, she wore the brightly coloured shawl Hannah had lent her. Around her white neck was a simple necklace of seed pearls. Her hair was dark brown with little gold lights shining in it and dressed in a clever style; a knot of curls on top of her small head. Hannah noticed that Yvonne’s hair, although it was free of pomatum, shone with a silky light, and made a mental note to ask her what she put on it.
‘We are but recently come from London,’ Lady Trant was saying. She began to talk of various notables while Hannah accepted tea and a plate of ham and kidneys. Yvonne listened dreamily to the rise and fall of voices while she gazed out over the sweep of the lawn. The soft air smelt of roses, newly cut grass, tea, and ham. She was unaware of the curious looks being cast on her face and gown by Clarrie and Letty. Both Clarrie and Letty were wondering whether to further their suit with the marquis by being pleasant to her, or whether to regard her as a rival. What sort of cousin? A first one, which put marriage out of the question, or a distant one, which made her dangerous?
Lady Trant had been discoursing on the merits of the latest play she had seen when she suddenly stopped and stared full at Hannah. Her rather vacant face appeared to harden and grow lines under the shadow of the enormous cap she wore on her head. ‘Miss Pym,’ she said slowly. ‘Miss Hannah Pym. Of South Audley Street?’
Hannah inclined her head in assent.
‘Are you acquainted with Sir George Clarence?’
Benjamin had just appeared and taken up his position behind Hannah’s chair. He gripped the back of the chair hard.
‘Why, yes,’ said Hannah with a pleased smile.
Lady Trant cast a look of horror at the marquis. ‘Lord Ware,’ she said stiffly, ‘much as we are pleased to entertain you in our home, we have our daughters to protect, and causing themselves to be brought into contact with a member of the demi-monde is beyond the pale!’
‘What’s this?’ goggled Lord Trant.
‘I fear your wife has been listening to malicious and unfounded gossip,’ said the marquis coldly.
Hannah found her hands were trembling and clasped them firmly on her lap. She fixed Lady Trant with a baleful look and
‘And how can you “have a go at him”, as you so vulgarly phrase it, sister dear?’ demanded Letty sweetly . ‘I have a folio of water-colours to show him, not to mention entertaining him by playing the harp. What have you to offer?’
‘Show him the gardens,’ said Clarrie. ‘All gentlemen like gardens.’
Hannah drew back from the window. ‘I confess tofinding myself a trifle hungry, Miss Grenier,’ she said. ‘Perhaps we should descend.’
‘I will have something sent up on a tray to my room,’ said Yvonne.
Hannah thought quickly. ‘That will not do, you know. Your hosts would find it most odd if you did not put in an appearance.’
‘I will say I have the headache.’ Yvonne looked stubborn.
‘And what a waste of time that will be on this fine day,’ said Hannah bracingly. ‘And you in that old carriage gown. Do you not have a pretty muslin? The day is warm.’
‘I have a sprig.’
‘Then put it on! I can lend you a fine shawl. Come, Miss Grenier. It is necessary for both of us to talk to the marquis further and find out what plans he has made for conveying us to York.’
At last Yvonne reluctantly agreed and soon she and Hannah were descending the main staircase. A footman met them in the hall and led them through a saloon and out onto the terrace where the Trant family, now joined by the marquis, were seated at table.
The marquis rose and made the introductions. At first Lady Trant and her daughters only had eyes for Yvonne. Hannah thought Yvonne was looking very pretty and appealing and hoped the marquis thought so too. Yvonne was wearing a white muslin gown embroidered with little pink sprigs. It had a low neckline and puffed sleeves. Over it, she wore the brightly coloured shawl Hannah had lent her. Around her white neck was a simple necklace of seed pearls. Her hair was dark brown with little gold lights shining in it and dressed in a clever style; a knot of curls on top of her small head. Hannah noticed that Yvonne’s hair, although it was free of pomatum, shone with a silky light, and made a mental note to ask her what she put on it.
‘We are but recently come from London,’ Lady Trant was saying. She began to talk of various notables while Hannah accepted tea and a plate of ham and kidneys. Yvonne listened dreamily to the rise and fall of voices while she gazed out over the sweep of the lawn. The soft air smelt of roses, newly cut grass, tea, and ham. She was unaware of the curious looks being cast on her face and gown by Clarrie and Letty. Both Clarrie and Letty were wondering whether to further their suit with the marquis by being pleasant to her, or whether to regard her as a rival. What sort of cousin? A first one, which put marriage out of the question, or a distant one, which made her dangerous?
Lady Trant had been discoursing on the merits of the latest play she had seen when she suddenly stopped and stared full at Hannah. Her rather vacant face appeared to harden and grow lines under the shadow of the enormous cap she wore on her head. ‘Miss Pym,’ she said slowly. ‘Miss Hannah Pym. Of South Audley Street?’
Hannah inclined her head in assent.
‘Are you acquainted with Sir George Clarence?’
Benjamin had just appeared and taken up his position behind Hannah’s chair. He gripped the back of the chair hard.
‘Why, yes,’ said Hannah with a pleased smile.
Lady Trant cast a look of horror at the marquis. ‘Lord Ware,’ she said stiffly, ‘much as we are pleased to entertain you in our home, we have our daughters to protect, and causing themselves to be brought into contact with a member of the demi-monde is beyond the pale!’
‘What’s this?’ goggled Lord Trant.
‘I fear your wife has been listening to malicious and unfounded gossip,’ said the marquis coldly.
Hannah found her hands were trembling and clasped them firmly on her lap. She fixed Lady Trant with a baleful look and
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