Page 25 of A Baron's Disguised Lady
Miss Gwendolene presents with a fever… most unusual in one so young, and of her class… I have advised keeping her warm and plenty to drink… my second visit finds Miss Gwendolene in a parlous state… I have prescribed a tonic… today, Miss Gwendolene is worse… a strange smell on her breath…Archie read silently.
At these words, he paused, his eyes growing wide with astonishment. A strange smell on her breath? That was strange, and Archie thought hard as to where he had heard such a reference previously.
“But a smell of what? I don’t remember… was there a smell?”he asked himself, trying hard to remember the details of his sister’s last days.
He remembered the doctor’s visits. How Doctor Airdale would stoop down to examine Gwendolene, telling them his sight was not what it used to be. Only he had got close enough to her to smell anything on her breath. The smell itself was described as something akin to almonds…
“Almonds? How curious. Gwendolene was allergic to nuts. She never touched them,”Archie said to himself, remembering a particularly nasty moment in their childhood when Gwendolene had eaten a piece of walnut cake and almost choked on her convulsions.
It made Archie shudder to recall it, but as for the smell of almonds on her breath…
How very curious,he thought to himself, shaking his head in confusion as to what it could mean.
He was still musing on the matter, knowing he had to ask Doctor Airdale to explain further what was meant by the words in the notebook, when the sudden approach of footsteps startled him. He had thought himself to be quite alone in the woods, sitting below a great oak, some distance from the path, but looking up, he was surprised to see Lavinia coming towards him.
He scrambled to his feet, brushing the dirt and leaves from his trousers, his face flushed with embarrassment as he thought back to the moment he had watched her through the drawing room window—had she, too, been watching him?
“My Lord?” she said, smiling at him as he continued to brush down his trousers.
“I was just…” he stammered, dropping the notebook in his haste.
He did not like to appear disheveled in front of her. Archie was very particular about his dress and had intended to change out of his walking clothes before meeting the others in the drawing room for tea. She laughed, cocking her to one side, and now he felt embarrassed at her seeing him in such a state, and with no means to clean himself up.
“Forgive me,” he said, but she shook her head, looking down at the hem of her own dress, covered as it was in dirt and leaves.
“I’ve been walking in the woods. They’re quite delightful. I saw some beautiful red flowers at the top of a bank… I simply had to reach them, and I got all muddy as I climbed up to them,” she said.
Archie did not approve of the thought of her scrambling through briars and brambles. It was hardly lady-like, and he raised his eyebrows and tutted.
“Really, Lavinia. Why not just look from afar?” he asked, and Lavinia laughed again.
“Because I’m always curious about things,” she said, and now she stooped down, snatching up the notebook and opening it, much to Archie’s annoyance.
“Now, look here,” he said, but she held it aloft, opening it and beginning to read.
“Are you going to be a doctor?” she asked, and he glared at her.
“What do you think you’re doing? That’s my private notebook,” he exclaimed, even as he knew it was actually the private notebook of Doctor Airdale, and he could only imagine the anger of those others referred to in it if they knew their landlord—for all of them lived in tied houses to the estate—knew of their various ailments.
“But this is about… oh, I’m sorry…” she said, and it seemed she had realized the subject of Archie’s interest.
“Yes… and it’s not proper for a lady to be reading such things,” Archie said, snatching the notebook away from her and putting it back in his pocket.
Lavinia shrugged, looking around her and plucking a pretty purple flower growing next to where Archie had been sitting.
“Perhaps… but then I’m not a lady, am I? Well… I’m supposed to be one. I’m supposed to pretend to be one. But I’m not really. It’s not just about knowing which knife and fork to use. I keep getting things wrong all the time. You weren’t there to see how many times I stepped on your mother’s toes yesterday when we were dancing,” Lavinia said, shaking her head and sighing.
Archie blushed. Hehadbeen watching for long enough to guess how many times, and the limp with which his mother had entered the dining room for breakfast that day had only served to confirm it.
“You just need to practice,” Archie replied, but in truth, he did not hold out much hope for Lavinia, as much as she intrigued him.
Her manners were lacking, her comportment was questionable, and her general behavior that of the scullery rather than the drawing room. He had noticed a myriad of faults in her; from the manner in which she walked to the way she ate. A finishing school might have solved the issues, but Lavinia was long past such things.
And yet, despite her many and obvious faults, Archie could not help but remain intrigued by her, curious to have company and learn more about her. He had been surprised at his own disappointment at not being able to dance with her the previous morning, and now, finding themselves alone, he wanted to take the opportunity to get to know her better…
“I need more than to practice. My mother took to it effortlessly. She doesn’t have any trouble in remembering these things. But she was born to it. I wasn’t. I’ll never be a lady,” Lavinia said, and the smile she now gave him suggested a question hung over whether she wanted to be or not.
“Well, you won’t find a husband with an attitude like that, will you?” Archie said, and Lavinia narrowed her eyes, a glare now coming over her face.
