The First Snowdrop

Chapter 6

Freddie Lynwood arrived a day early, much to the annoyance of the Duchess of Portland. But as she said to Anne when her grandson finally allowed himself to be led up to his bedchamber after three cups of tea, five cucumber sandwiches, and four currant cakes, she might have expected as much. Dear Freddie did not have as many wits in his attic as might be deemed his fair share, and as a result, he had developed a keen sense of anxiety. He knew that he was forgetful and that his brain frequently became addled. Consequently, he kept important appointments as soon as he remembered them, and honored invitations in the same way. One of her favorite stories was of his arriving at a London home for a ball, only to find that the family were on their way out to the theater. The ball was scheduled for two days hence. Freddie had been quite undaunted, but had announced that he would stay.

"Only forget if I go back home," he had said. "Won't mind if I make m'self comfortable, will you? Don't need to put yourselves out on my account. Will send home for a change of clothes. Don't let me stop you going to the play."

And he had bowed them off the premises with punctilious courtesy and proceeded to make himself comfortable in the best chair in the drawing room, clad all in lace and silks. He had made himself indispensable on the day of the ball, balanced at the top of a ladder held by two footmen, fitting dozens of new candles into the chandeliers.

The duchess chuckled as she finished the story. "I must confess, though," she said, "that it is far more diverting to have such a thing happen to someone else than it is to have one's own plans thrown into upheaval. I had wanted to spend the whole of today getting to know you, my dear. You were so tired after your journey last night that the evening was quite wasted."

Anne smiled and sipped on her own second cup of tea. "But I have greatly enjoyed today, Your Grace," she said. "I thank you so much for spending time showing me the house. I had no idea that such a magnificent mansion existed outside the pages of a book. And the gardens are lovely. The rose arbor, in particular, has given me ideas for Redlands. I love the gardens there, but they are very open. They need a more secluded area where one can sit quietly during the afternoon."

The duchess rested her chin in the palm of her hand and regarded Anne steadily. "You are very different from what I expected, my dear," she said. "I must confess that my motive for inviting you here two days before the rest of the family was only partly to get to know you. I also planned to use the extra time to try to make you more fashionable. I assumed that after so long in the country, your appearance would be sadly out of date. I was mistaken, I see. And about other things, too."

"I have Bella to thank for my appearance," Anne said. "She scolds and bullies me until I allow her to style my hair and design my clothes according to her directions."

"And very glad I am to hear it," the duchess said. "I really cannot think what Alex has been about all this time. I shall have to have a good talk with him. Better still, I shall turn His Grace loose on him."

Anne's face lost its smile. "Please do not, Your Grace," she said. "He will be angry enough that I am here. I would not wish him to think that I have been complaining to you. Indeed, he has been quite a generous husband."

"Balderdash!" the duchess said. "The boy needs a good set-down. And call me Grandmamma, child."

Anne was much in awe of the duke. She had met him the night before in the drawing room soon after her arrival. He had sat in his chair by the fire, a great mountain of a man, his legs set apart, a large hand spread on each knee. His great neck had bulged over his neckcloth, and bushy eyebrows of a surprisingly dark shade of brown had jutted over sharp eyes. He had coughed and wheezed all the time she had been there, until the duchess had released her by announcing that she must be tired and should retire to bed. But he had said nothing after his first apology for not getting up.

"It's my gout," he had said, glaring at her fiercely, as if she were directly responsible for the state of his health.

She had taken an instant liking to the duchess, a diminutive bundle of energy who appeared to rule her household with a rod of iron. Perhaps the liking came because the duchess was everything she was not, Anne thought. She had perfect self-confidence. And she had done her best to welcome the estranged wife of her grandson. She had herself taken Anne to her room the night before, where Bella had already unpacked her belongings and turned down the bed. And she had hardly left her side during this day, but had shown Anne almost every room in the house, pointing out the remaining signs of the original Tudor manor, most noticeable in the high wooden beams of the dining-room ceiling, as well as the most recent additions, such as the grand marble chimneypiece in one of the state rooms.

Anne had particularly enjoyed the visit to the picture gallery, where were displayed portraits of the Stewart family for generations back. She listened attentively to all the names and relationships, realizing only then how strange her situation was. She had been married for well over a year, yet she knew almost nothing of her husband's family. It had been a very difficult moment, though, when they had stopped before Alexander's portrait. It had been a long time since Anne had been able to remember clearly what he looked like. She retained only a general memory of height and athletic build, of dark hair and blue eyes and overall beauty. Her heart seemed to stop altogether as she looked on him once more and then started again with a painful thud. Yes, of course, that was he. How could she ever have forgotten? She could not linger as she would have wished because the duchess chattered at her side and proceeded to the next picture almost immediately.

The newly arrived member of the family had won Anne's heart almost immediately. She did not share the duchess's annoyance at his early arrival. When Freddie had been introduced to her, he had bowed over her hand with courtly grace and kissed it.

"Alex's wife?" he had said, brows knit in concentration. "When did he tie the knot? Don't remember to have met you before. But, damme, yes, if I didn't hear something of the kind from Jack. Now what did he say?" Freddie had retained his hold on Anne's hand while the frown on his face indicated that he was deep in slow thought. "Damme if I can remember," he had said, "but whatever it was, he was dead wrong. Dead wrong," he had repeated, wringing her hand until she thought she would have to bite her lip from the pain of it.

"Your hand, Freddie," the duchess had said bluntly. "It belongs at your side, dear boy."

"Forgot," he had said, smiling affably at Anne. "I like you. Damme if Alex hasn't done an intelligent thing. Always was intelligent, you know, Alex. A real sharper. Saw him read a book once. Didn't even have to move his lips. I might have a wife like you, you know, if I had some of Alex's brains. Lucky dog." He had flashed her a smile of boyish charm.

"Your hand, Freddie," the duchess had reminded him, and finally he had relinquished his hold on Anne.

If only the other members of the family could be as unthreatening to her self-confidence as Freddie, Anne thought, she would endure any number of painful finger squeezes. But she spent an uncomfortable portion of that night wondering if she had done a foolish thing in coming to face them all in one splash. There would be no backing out of the ordeal, either. Tomorrow they would all arrive-a large number of them, to judge from the duchess's conversation today-and she would be forced to meet them and mingle with them for two whole weeks.

That, of course, was not her only, or even her chief, worry. Tomorrow Alexander would come. She would see him again. She would know him, at least; her sight of his portrait that afternoon had ensured that. But she did not know at all how she would behave. Would she be able to retain her poise, or would she blush and stammer and lose all control of her reactions? She did not know. And she did not know how many other people would be present during that meeting. It could all prove to be a great embarrassment both to her and to him.

Most of all, Anne was afraid of his reaction. He did not know that she would be here. She had not written to tell him that she had accepted the invitation. She had been too afraid that he would again send instructions forbidding her to do so. She was, if she really paused to admit the truth, feeling sick with fear. She had disobeyed one of his express commands. And it was no private matter, which he could have dealt with in his own way. She had flouted his authority before his whole family. She dreaded to imagine what he might say to her or what he might do. Perhaps she was foolish to worry about having to mingle with the guests for two weeks. This time tomorrow night she might well be on her way back to Redlands. But no! She reminded herself that the duke would surely not allow any such thing. It was at his direct bidding that she was here, and he was the head of the family.

When Merrick arrived at Portland House, it was already late afternoon, and he could see at a glance that several members of his family must be there before him. The huge double doors of the main entrance stood open, and several liveried footmen were busily carrying inside large trunks and boxes that had just been unloaded from an ancient traveling carriage that still stood before the entry. Some female was in the rose arbor: probably his second cousin Constance. She looked too fair and too small to be the older sister, Prudence. Freddie Lynwood was outside among the boxes, looking quite painful to the eye with a large expanse of canary-yellow waistcoat showing beneath an unbuttoned coat. He was good-naturedly trying to help the footman by gathering three bandboxes into his arms.

Jack Frazer was also outside, and obviously newly arrived. He stood with one shoulder indolently propped against the side of the carriage, one Hessian boot crossed over the other, a whip swinging idly from his hands. He grinned when he saw Merrick.

"You must have been riding in our dust, Alex," he said. "I have just succeeded in conveying Mamma and Hortie safely here, though Mamma must have had thirty fits of the vapors on the way, so convinced was she that we would be attacked by highwaymen. It is a good thing for you, old boy, that you did not come up on us a little sooner. I might have been forced to shoot you just to put her mind at rest."

"I should not have enjoyed that at all," Merrick commented dryly as he swung himself to the ground and patted his horse's flank.

"I see, at any rate, that you were as little able to come up with a previous engagement for these two weeks as I was," Jack said, still grinning. "Grandmamma is not to be denied when she has her heart set on something, is she?"

"Ah, but then I was not looking for an excuse," Merrick said, nodding a greeting to Freddie, who had set down his bandboxes at the top of the stone steps leading to the door, not knowing where he was to take them. "You look as if you are thoroughly settled in, Freddie. I suppose you arrived a few days ago?"

"Hello, Alex," Freddie said, beaming. "Arrived yesterday. Thought I would be late. Expected to see Grandmamma in a lather. But was a day early. She was pleased to see me, though. No other man except Grandpapa to keep the ladies company."

Merrick's attention was taken at that moment by the arrival on the scene of the duchess. She descended the steps and extended both hands to Jack, who pulled himself upright at her approach.

"Jack," she said, "you are just as handsome as ever, I see. And still breaking female hearts by the dozen, I should not wonder. Do go inside and join your sister and your mamma for refreshments in the blue salon. Stanley and Celia are there, too. They arrived more than an hour ago, but they had to take their children up to the nursery and could not get away. They did not bring their own nurse, you know, and the little devils have been throwing tantrums every time their mamma tries to leave the room. However, all seems quiet now."

"Grandmamma," Jack said, kissing dutifully the cheek that was offered him, "how can this possibly be your fiftieth anniversary? You do not look a day over fifty yourself. You must have been an infant bride."

"Shameless flatterer!" she said. "Go inside immediately, and take Freddie with you so that the servants can get something done out here."

She turned to Merrick when the other two men finally disappeared indoors. "Alex," she said, "it is about time you put in an appearance, dear boy. You have become quite the stranger." She offered him, too, her cheek, but he ignored it and caught her around the waist, lifting her from her feet and twirling her completely around. She shrieked. "Put me down immediately," she ordered. "Have you completely lost your wits?"

Merrick grinned. "Grandmamma," he said, "if you intend to scold for the next two weeks, I shall mount this horse and turn its head for London again. Am I not going to be offered tea with the Frazers and Stanley and Celia?"

"In a little while," the duchess said. "First, be a dear boy and go fetch whoever that is in the rose arbor."

Merrick turned his eyes in the direction of the distant female again. "Who is she, anyway?" he asked. "Constance?"

"Oh, go see, dear boy," she said vaguely, beginning to waft her way back to the house. have a thousand and one things on my mind."

"What a greeting!" Merrick said with a grin, handing the reins of his horse to a waiting groom, and his hat and greatcoat to a footman who happened to pass with a free hand.

He strode toward the rose arbor, which was still looking pretty bare at this time of the year, he noted. But there was certainly something to add attraction to the area. She had her back to him, her fair head, clustered with curls at the back, bent over a book. She was seated on a bench, one leg crossed over the other, a rose-pink slipper swinging from side to side beneath the hem of a matching dress. She had a white lace shawl over her shoulders.

Merrick was intrigued. It was true that he had not seen some of his cousins for quite some time, but he had thought that he would recognize them. It was hard, he supposed, to remember that those girls he had known from infancy had grown into young ladies, and possibly attractive ones at that. This one was very attractive, if one might judge from behind.

She turned as he stooped to pass through the trellised arch that formed the entryway to the arbor, and he realized that she was not one of his cousins. Grandmamma had said nothing about inviting anyone from outside the family, and he was momentarily annoyed that she had not told him who the girl was. On second thoughts, he blessed his good fortune that he could meet her thus in private. She was an exquisite little beauty-and a shy one too, if one might judge by the color that suffused her cheeks and the urge that caused her to leap to her feet and drop her book.

He smiled, stepped forward, and retrieved the volume. "Jane Austen," he said, glancing at the title. "Do you enjoy her works?"

"I have read only Mansfield Park," she said in a tight little voice.

He tapped the book against his other hand as he examined her. She was a light little creature with a good figure. And she was pretty too, her heart-shaped face made appealing by hollowed cheeks, high cheekbones, and large gray eyes that looked at him now anxiously, almost fearfully. She was not as young as he had at first thought. Her face had character. He was aware finally that the silence was lengthening between them.

"Alex Stewart," he said, holding out his right hand, "the duke's grandson." He raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

Heaven help her, he had not recognized her. At first she had thought that the duchess had sent him to her and that he had decided to be fair and friendly about the whole business. She had been sitting here for longer than half an hour, reading and rereading the same paragraph without absorbing any of its meaning, wondering when he would come and what would happen when he did. The duchess had sent her after she had taken tea with two batches of newly arrived family members. But he had not been sent. He did not know her. Alexander. So much more powerfully attractive than she remembered.

"Alexander," she said, not taking the proffered hand, "do you not know me?"

He frowned and looked at her closely for several seconds. His face noticeably paled as his hand dropped to his side. "My God," he said, "who are you?"

She grasped the sides of her dress and twisted the fabric in her hands. His eyes followed the gesture.

"Anne," he said. His eyes lifted to hers, and his own suddenly blazed. "Anne? What is the meaning of this, madam? By what right have you dared present yourself here?"

"Don't be angry," she said. "Grandpapa insisted that I come. Indeed, I wrote to Grandmamma to explain that you did not wish it, but she wrote back to say that His Grace is head of the family and I must obey him."

"I am your husband, madam," he said. "It is to me-and to me alone-that you owe obedience. And by what right do you call the Duke and Duchess of Portland by such familiar names?"

"The duchess has insisted that I do so," Anne said, tears standing in her eyes. "Please, Alexander, do not be angry. I shall try not to bother you in the coming days. You need not know that I am here."

"Need not know!" he said. "How will I be able to avoid the knowledge, madam? You have the advantage of me. I have been taken quite by surprise. And I have been sent to bring you in for tea. Come. Allow me to escort you. But do not think that you have escaped lightly. I shall consider later how to deal with your disobedience." Unsmilingly, his face pale and set, Merrick transferred the book to his right hand and held out his left arm for her support.

Anne took his arm, her eyes lowered. She did not want him to see the tears that were about to spill down her cheeks. But she feared that he would feel her trembling. Indeed, she was glad that she was not called upon to speak. Her jaw was tightly clenched to prevent her teeth from chattering. The combination of his anger and his physical nearness and touch was more than her fragile self-confidence could handle at present.

There followed a tricky half-hour. Anne seated herself behind the teapot and tried to be unobtrusive, but there were a few newcomers, who had arrived since she had been sent to the rose arbor. One young man closely resembled her husband, except that he was somewhat thinner and had the tendency to view the world with amused eyes from beneath lazy eyelids. He immediately got to his feet when he saw a stranger.

"Well, well," he said, "it looks as if Grandmamma has arranged for some interesting company, after all. It is just like you, Alex, to be the first to find her. You must not think that gives you undisputed rights to her company for the next two weeks, though. Introduce me, old boy." He strolled across to the table where Anne sat, and leered down at her.

Merrick had dissociated himself from his wife as soon as they entered the blue salon and had crossed the room to greet his father's nephew, Stanley. He turned back to face the room, his face still pale and grim. "May I present my wife, Anne?" he said, looking around at all the occupants. "Have you met everyone, Anne, and had the relationships explained to you. Aunt Maud Frazer and Aunt Sarah Lynwood are my father's sisters. Jack and Hortense are Aunt Maud's offspring. Uncle Charles and Cousin Freddie belong to Aunt Sarah. Stanley and Celia Stewart are the son and daughter-in-law of Grandpapa's youngest brother. Still upstairs are Grandmamma's sister, Great-aunt Emily, and her family." Merrick had indicated each member of the family as he spoke.

"Charles and I met Anne earlier," Aunt Sarah said with a smile, "and so did Aunt Emily and her brood. I don't know what keeps them abovestairs so long. Is she holding a family conference up there, Mamma?"

Jack still stood opposite Anne, regarding her with that strange, amused scrutiny. "Well, well," he said, for her ears only, "the abandoned bride. I had expected to see a veritable antidote. Has Alex been afraid to take you to town for fear that someone else would run off with you?" He grinned as Anne kept her eyes on the table and straightened plates and linen napkins that did not need rearranging. "I shall look forward to making your acquaintance, Anne," he said. "If Alex has no interest in you, perhaps I can deputize for him."

"Did you want more tea, Jack?" Merrick asked, moving up to stand beside his cousin. "If so, I am sure my wife would be very willing to pour it for you."

Jack grinned. "You should know, Alex," he said, "that tea is not quite my cup of tea, so to speak. Is one permitted to speak to your wife, old boy, without incurring your wrath?"

Merrick smiled easily back at him. "Not when he causes her such noticeable embarrassment," he replied.

Jack sighed. "I perceive that there is to be little fun connected with this celebration," he said.

The duchess's voice had risen in volume, indicating that she was about to make a general pronouncement. "His Grace has decided," she said, resting a hand lightly on the arm of her husband, who had sat silent and frowning through the whole tea, "that we must have some activity to give focus to these two weeks. We both remember how years ago, when many of you were children, you all used to love the plays we performed for the servants at Christmas. Amateur theatrics, His Grace has decided, is just the thing to keep us all pleasantly occupied until the night of the grand ball. We have exactly two weeks to prepare. We shall perform a play for all the guests who have been invited, between the dinner hour and the start of the dancing." She patted the duke's arm again.

"Grandmamma!" Hortense shrieked. "How are we to choose a play, allot parts, learn lines, and produce a polished performance all in two weeks?"

"Impossible!" Stanley agreed.

The duchess held up a hand for attention. "That is where I have taken the initiative," she said. "I have a play already selected and I have decided who is to play which parts. All you have to do, my dears, is to learn and perform your lines."

"Mamma!" Sarah said severely. "We came here to be with you and Papa and to relax."

The duke produced a rumbling sound in his throat, which might have been a cough. "Boredom," he said. "Relaxation produces boredom. This'll keep you all busy."

"Damme if I don't think this a grand idea," Freddie said, smiling eagerly around at the group. "If I just had some brains, I would have a part. No memory, though. Can never remember lines, and when I do, don't know when to say them."

"You have a part too, Freddie, my boy," the duchess assured him.

Freddie giggled.

"What is the play, anyway?" Sarah asked. "Something short, I hope."

"She Stoops to Conquer," the duchess said, gazing imperiously around her, daring anyone to complain about the choice. "We shall all meet in the morning room after breakfast tomorrow, and I shall allot parts. There will be no arguments, and I expect everyone to learn his lines."

Jack groaned. "In the absence of any stronger beverage," he said, "I had better fortify myself with more tea. Will you pour, Anne?"