Page 124 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
He spun away from them to shout at footmen in the hall: "Joseph! Fetch Dr. Linden. Matthew, tell Lady Mary's maid to turn down her bed!" He turned back to the room and crossed to the couch. Unceremoniously he picked up Lady Mary, holding her high against his chest.
"Tarkington! Put me down!" She squirmed in her brother's arms.
Looking at Tarkington's clenched jaw, Jocelyn knew he wasn't going to listen to his sister. Swiftly she gathered up Lady Mary's shawl from where it had fallen on the floor and ran ahead of the marquess to open the music room door wider.
Lady Mary began weeping softly, muttering denial.
Jocelyn followed the marquess and her friend as far as the stairs. From the base of the staircase she watched him carry her upstairs. Lady Tarkington followed behind, calling out further instructions to the servants as she went.
Lady Maybrey came up behind Jocelyn and laid her hand on her shoulder. Jocelyn turned her head to look at her mother and smile wryly. "I am beginning to feel this will be one very long day."
Thirty minutes passed. The butler had supplied Jocelyn and Lady Maybrey with sherry and had informed them in solemn tones that dinner would be set back an hour. They heard a flurry of activity when the doctor arrived; otherwise, silence ensued, leaving them with only each other's company. For a time, they exchanged prosaic remarks on the house and Lady Mary's illness. Still, time crawled, and Jocelyn paced the room like a caged animal. Finally, she stopped at the beautiful gold-inlaid white harpsichord and let her fingers idly play over the keys, listening to the rich, unique, bell-like pinging sound. She sat down on the bench before the instrument, and her left hand joined her right in chords to accompany simple melodies, then to intricate patterns, and finally to songs. She sang softly, her eyes drifting shut as she allowed the music to fill her soul.
Lady Maybrey leaned back against a nest of pillows on the sofa. "I'd almost forgotten how well you play the harpsichord," she said when the last note of a song faded away. "You haven't played the instrument in months!"
Jocelyn shrugged slightly, a soft, almost sad smile on her lips. "When has there been time? We have been so busy the last months, I scarcely have time for myself. And, too, the time I have devoted to my music has been spent practicing the pianoforte for some soiree or another, learning songs others can sing as well." She sighed. "The harpsichord is not as favored an instrument as it was in the past. Reminiscent of hooped skirts and heavy brocades, I think. It is, you must admit, Mother, considered old-fashioned and therefore boring in the bon ton."
"And, of course, one must accommodate the ton," the marquess said from the doorway, his voice a deep, mocking drawl.
"Well, naturally."
"Why?"
"Why? I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Jocelyn, the marquess is teasing you!" Lady Maybrey said with a laugh.
"Am I?"
"Of course you are! Now come and sit down and tell us of Lady Mary. What has the doctor to say?"
He raised an eyebrow at her sweeping summation of his action but did as she requested. "He believes it to be just a grippe that will pass in a few days if Mary remains in bed and takes the medicine he prescribes." He turned toward Jocelyn. "I'm afraid, Miss Maybrey, that this shall put a damper on your visit. I apologize. We shall try to compensate."
"Please, there is no need. I find Bayneville so fascinating that I vow I shall be well occupied in exploring your marvelous estate. That is, if I may?"
"Of course, Miss Maybrey. You are most welcome. And should you desire to ride, I shall arrange a horse for you and one of my grooms to accompany you."
"That will not be necessary, my lord. I am a city-bred girl and not given to riding. However, I should be grateful for a pony cart if there is one available."
"Yes, of course. I have one that we take Lady Anne about in."
"Well, then, perhaps Lady Anne and I could go about together!"
"As you wish." He looked at her quizzically.
"Dinner is served, my lord."
"Ah, about time. I'm certain you ladies must be famished." He rose and offered Lady Maybrey his arm.
"No, though we thank you for your concern. We are accustomed to eating much later," Lady Maybrey answered.
He nodded wryly. "My mistake. I had forgotten how different London time is kept from the country. We shall begin immediately to accommodate our timetable to that of our London guests."
Though his words were bland enough, Jocelyn could not help hearing an underscore of mockery. She looked at him curiously as she followed her mother and him out of the room.
CHAPTER2
Late rising was another London tradition. When Jocelyn rose the following day, the sun was almost at its zenith. She stretched and yawned, feeling that she'd compensated for the atrociously early start they'd made from London the previous day. She rose from her bed, rang the bell to summon a servant, found her wrapper, opened the drapes, and settled down in a chair by one of the windows where she could look out across land and buildings.
