Page 3 of The Nature of a Lady
Were she a braver girl, Libby would defy that unspoken dictate and argue the point. She’d declare that she didn’t care who Mabena’s parents were or where she was from, theywerefriends and that was that. They understood each other. Shared a fascination with the naturalworld—something Libby couldn’t claim about any of the gentlemen’s daughters she knew. While they recoiled in horror at a worm or an insect, she leaned in for a closer look. They were too different.
In those ways, Mabena was much more like her. But in others, they were different too. Shedidneed to protect her position—something Libby never had to worry about. She’d better remember that and help her guard it. With a matching sigh, Libby nodded.
“Now, you needn’t look so sad, my lady. St. Mary’s is one of the prettiest places on earth, and you’re going to have a fine time cataloguing every creature and plant you can find. Don’t worry so over a trifle like what name I’ll call you.” Mabena’s eyes, when Libby looked over at her, flashed with laughter. “Perhaps I’ll just take up calling youMea Domina.That’s your Latin designation, isn’t it?”
Libby laughed and then leaned over the rail again to watch the world swimming by beneath them. Not that she could see much through the froth of their wake, but the glimpses were fascinating. She ought to have convinced her family to spend more time at the seashore. How lucky Mabena was to have grown up with such variety of life at her fingertips. “I’m looking forward to meeting your family. They’ll be there to greet the ferry, right?”
“Ah...” Mabena cleared her throat in a way Libby had never heard her do before. She lifted her gaze from the water to her friend’s face. It had a strange look upon it. A bit sheepish. A bit ... guilty? “It was a friend of mine who sent that telegram, my lady, not my mother. My family’s all on Tresco. We’ll be summering on St. Mary’s. Not that the two aren’t close enough to go between—by boat—and I’m sure youwillmeet them, but they’re not down the lane as I led your mother to believe.”
“Then why ...?” She didn’t even know what to ask. Where to begin. She felt no stab of anxiety over realizing therewouldn’tbe a family a few paces away to see to her comfort and care—that hardly mattered. But hadn’t Mabena’s idea for a visit sprung from the desire to see her family again?
“Tresco’s too small to support as many tourists. We’d never havefound a place to let there at such a late date.” The twinkle returned to Mabena’s dark eyes. “And besides—there’s a reason I left the isles. Being near family is all well and good, but being able to breathe without them asking if you find the air satisfactory has its merits too. A bit of distance between us and them will be a good thing.”
She could hardly argue with that, given her reasons for wanting this holiday. Perhaps Mabena had a brother like Bram. Not that she’d ever mentioned any siblings. Or really spoken much of her family at all, come to think of it.
“We’ve nearly two and a half hours on the ferry. Why don’t we find a place to sit? You can get out a sketchbook.”
An obvious ploy, but given the beauty surrounding them, she decided to let herself be redirected. There would be plenty of time over the summer to pry a bit more information out of her maid. For now, it was enough to soak in this new world surrounding her. And easy enough to get lost in it.
She’d filled three pages with sketches of the birds and fish she glimpsed and was putting down a rough image of the Isles of Scilly themselves, emerging from the sea, when they chugged into St. Mary’s Sound. She closed her book and tucked it and her pencil back into her bag as Mabena pointed to the sights visible from their course.
“That opening there is Porthellick Bay. And there, that giant pile of rocks—that’s Giant’s Castle.”
Libby’s lips turned up at the whimsy.
The narration continued with a list of names Libby would never be able to keep straight, at least not until she’d explored them for herself. Finally, they docked at the quay in Hugh Town with a whistle and a clang of the bell.
Mabena patted her arm. “Just sit tight for a moment, my lady, while I direct them on what to do with our trunks. I’ve arranged transport for those, but we’ll walk to the cottage through the town from here. I thought you’d enjoy that.”
“Perfect.” And indeed it was. She happily sat and soaked in the bustle until Mabena signaled her to debark, and then she happilystrolled through the quaint little seaside town by her maid’s side, trying to catalogue absolutely everything she saw. Squat little houses of granite, flowering shrubs hugging their corners. Shops with darling little signs dangling outside them, proclaiming the wares within. Oceanic birds swooping and calling overhead.
It only got better when they left the town behind and took to the road meandering along the seashore. Grasses bent in the steady wind, and she spotted heather unlike any she’d seen before. Rocks cropped up here and there, promising ample places to sit when she explored. And the sky overhead stretched blue and promising.
Soon, cottages came into view, their sizes varying. Near the larger ones she spotted families of obvious wealth, playing at a seaside holiday. From these she averted her face and hoped against hope that Mama was wrong and none of them would recognize her.
Mabena pulled a folded slip of paper from her pocket and, fighting the wind at every step, opened it. She checked something about their surroundings, though Libby had spotted no road sign to tell them where they were, but her maid nodded and pointed toward a lovely small cottage at the end of the lane. “There we are. Our home for the rest of the summer.”
Was there something odd in her voice, or was the distortion just from the wind? Libby put it out of her mind for now and focused on the granite building abutting the old garrison wall that her friend indicated. The location was ideal—they’d have views of the other islands, the water, and the town down below. Even from here she could spot a path to the water through the high grasses. And best of all, there were no other houses sharing walls or gardens. She’d have privacy to do whatever she pleased.
As they neared, she spotted a woman of middling years rounding the corner, shielding her eyes from the sun to watch them approach.
“That would be Mrs. Pepper, I imagine. The landlady.” Mabena nodded in satisfaction. “With our keys and no doubt something to sign to let the place officially. I told her which ferry we’d be on.” She darted a glance at Libby. “Could we give her your name? If I mention mine, my family will hear of it before the tide goes out.”
“No objections from me.” It was properly exciting, actually. A holiday cottage, let in her name. She could hardly have helped smiling even had she wanted to as she strode to the matronly woman awaiting them. “How do you do?” she said the moment she was near enough. “Are you the landlady?”
The woman gave a brisk nod, her eyes taking them in with a few quick darting glances that seemed to dismiss Mabena in a second and measure Libby from her new hat to the shoes she’d already muddied. “Mrs. Pepper. You’ll be the young miss who wired about letting the place, then?”
“I am.” More or less. She smiled anew. “Elizabeth Sinclair.”
“Another Elizabeth, is it?” The woman turned with a baffling huff of frustration and waved for them to follow her to the door. “May you be more dependable than the last. That one left me high and dry after sweet-talking me into promising her the whole summer but letting her pay week by week, she did. And then vanished before the second month is out, as good sense should have told me she’d do.”
Libby blinked at the woman’s back ... and at the deluge of information she had absolutely no need of. “Well, how fortuitous that we were able to take over the vacancy, then. I was quite afraid we’d decided on our plans too late to find anything half as lovely as this.”
“All I needed to know, miss, is that the money you wired to the bank yesterday came through without a hitch. Here.” She opened the front door for them and held its key up, which dangled from her fingers. “You mentioned catering, aye? My daughter or I will bring a basket once a day with all the fixings you’ll need. I trust your maid can discern what to do with it.”
Mabena’s hum vibrated with irritation, but Libby didn’t look back at her to see if she was glowering. She simply took the key ring. “Yes. Thank you.”
“She’ll take any laundry you have for us at the same time. Mind, that’s extra. You pay by the article, as you would at any fancy hotel in London.”
