Page 20 of A Baron's Disguised Lady
“He used to sleep late. It was a bad habit of his, if you’ll pardon me for saying so. He’d sleep late, and work long into the night. My mother always said, ‘early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.’ I believe in that, Miss Stuart. But since his sister died, His Lordship’s risen before dawn every day.
He goes out walking, but where he goes, I don’t know. Some say he goes to the churchyard and sits by Miss Gwendolene’s grave. I’d not like to come across him at sunrise sitting there. That’s when the dead return to their rest,” Daisy said, shaking her head and crossing herself.
Lavinia did not believe such superstition. She had been raised in the faith of her mother, whose upbringing had been the same. With a surname like Stuart, it was inevitable she find her faith in the old religion. But as for superstition, Lavinia was less than convinced.
“I’d not mind,” she said, glancing at the crucifix on the wall above her bed.
Sarum Lacy House was filled with the trappings of the once outlawed Catholicism practiced by its inhabitants. Horatia had shown Lavinia and her mother a priest’s hole, once used to hide visiting clergy during times of persecution. And on every corridor, and in every part of the house, statues and symbols of the continental religion could be seen.
There was comfort in it, though Lavinia could only wonder how much comfort the baron derived from such paraphernalia, though she had noticed he carried a set of rosary beads with him wherever he went. Lavinia believed in heaven and hell, and in the resurrection, but when death became real, it was far harder to believe without question, and for her, there was always a doubt.
“Well, rather you than me, Miss Stuart. Will you go out before breakfast?” Daisy asked, but Lavinia shook her head.
There was nothing for her to do, and she had decided to embrace such idleness, rather than fight it. That morning, before breakfast, she would do as was expected of her… nothing. Daisy helped her to finish getting dressed, and then Lavinia made her way downstairs, installing herself in the library and browsing some of the books before the clock struck ten and it was time for breakfast.
“Ah, there you are, Lavinia. We were just talking about you,” her mother said, as Lavinia entered the dining room.
“I haven’t made any more mistakes, have I?” Lavinia asked, glancing at the dining table, with its bewildering amount of cutlery.
The dowager smiled and shook her head.
“You haven’t made any mistakes, Lavinia. This is all new to you. You’re learning, and that’s very different than making mistakes,” she said.
Lavinia was grateful to her for her understanding. It had amused her to see the more formal manner in which her mother was behaving now they had come to Sarum Lacy House.
At Tall Chimneys, her mother had behaved just the same as though they had been back under their previous circumstances, but here, in the company of her old friend, Lavinia’s mother had changed. She was different; more formal, and aware of her own behavior, and that of Lavinia, too. Now, she was sitting stiffly at the table, allowing the butler to pour her a cup of coffee.
“It’s kind of you to say so,” Lavinia replied, sitting down at the table, and looking expectantly at the empty place.
She wondered if the baron would be joining them, but Horatia had already begun to eat, and there was no sign of their having to wait for Archie to arrive.
“Is… His Lordship… His Grace, joining us?” Lavinia asked.
She had been hoping to see him, and his absence was something of a disappointment to her. After their encounter in the drawing room the previous evening, Lavinia had been keen to further make amends for their initial wrong footing. She had hoped he would be there, even as she had been uncertain as to what she might say or do. But the dowager shook her head.
“Oh, no, he never joins me for breakfast. He was always a later riser. But now, he goes out early to walk on the estate. He walks for miles, lost in his thoughts,” she said, shaking her head.
Lavinia felt somewhat disappointed, even as she knew she had no right to expect anything of the baron, whose behavior was entirely understandable. He had every right to be alone with his thoughts, and the picture she now formed in her mind, of a solitary figure walking through the woods or by the streams, intrigued her.
“Well, I certainly shan’t be going anywhere today,” Lavinia’s mother said, and the dowager laughed.
“Oh, no—except perhaps to take tea on the lawn or to sit in the summerhouse, it’s so lovely there when the sun shines down on it, as it will do today,” Horatia said.
Lavinia—forgetting herself—reached across the table to help herself to the marmalade. Hargreaves stepped forward to assist, but the deed was done, even as Lavinia had not realized what she was doing. But her mother seemed not to notice, caught up, it seemed, in her memories.
“Do you remember the summer ball at Tindale? They had the most enormous summer house there. They’d decorate it so beautifully, filled with flowers, the scent was remarkable. We’d dance the whole night there, wouldn’t we,” she said, and the dowager began to hum a tune Lavinia did not recognize.
“La da, di da, dum da, di, da,” she hummed, and Lavinia’s mother clapped her hands together in delight.
“Oh, Horatia, I remember it as though it were yesterday. That music… I hadn’t been able to hear it in my mind, but now I can… I met Arthur that night,” she said, and the dowager smiled.
“I haven’t been to a ball in simply ages,” she said, shaking her head sadly.
Lavinia thought back to the last ball she had attended. It had not gone well. Lord Bath had been insufferable, and she had endured the whispers and snide comments of a dozen or so women, all of whom believed themselves to be better than her.
The matter had been made worse by her inability at dancing and having stepped on Lord Bath’s feet any number of times, he had declared she needed lessons before he would deign to mark her dance card again. Nevertheless, that had not stopped him from growing jealous at the sight of her with other men, all of whom had suffered a similar fate…
“Lavinia and I have been to several since our return. But it’s nothing like it used to be. Perhaps I’m getting too old,” Lavinia’s mother said, and the dowager laughed.
