“How is Mr. Rudge?” the Duchess asked.
“His ankle is broken, and he has a sizeable bruise on the side of his head. He is in some pain, but Dr. Alton is reluctant to administer anything for the pain, lest he have a concussion. The youngest footman is sitting with him and changing out cold cloths on the ankle. Mr. Rudge seems to settle better with him than with one of the maids.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Darrius said equably. “A gentleman would feel less constrained with one of his own gender in attendance. How is dinner?”
“Ready to be served, Your Grace. Mrs. Henshaw is seeing to the final touches while Jemmy takes care of the larger items. He set Mr. McElroy to tending the roast as soon as he realized that there might be a problem, so it will be well-basted and perfectly turned. It seems that Mr. McElroy has a deft hand with roasting.”
“Excellent. I am somewhat surprised that there will be a roast at this season,” Darrius commented.
“It is only mutton, Your Grace. One of the ewes was mired near the brook and broke her neck in the struggle to get free. The shepherd quite rightly skinned it out. We have the choicest parts, while the rest has been shared out among the neediest villagers.”
“Well managed,” Darrius approved. “Was this the shepherd’s idea, Mrs. Swinton?”
“Mr. Rudge’s, actually, but it had Mr. Wilson and the head farmer’s approval.”
Darrius nodded, but had nothing further to say upon the matter.
“Now, if I might be excused?” Evelyn queried. “I will be back in a trice to see to your coiffure, Your Grace, but I believe that Betty has it well in hand. Nicely done, Betty.”
“Of course, my dear,” the Duchess said. “But do hurry. Let us try to avoid further disasters before dinner. Ordinarily, I would be quite equable with waiting or having a simple supper, but this one is quite important to me.”
“I understand. I shall be but a moment,” Evelyn said.
After the companion had left the room, Darrius said, “Do you ordinarily allow her such latitude, Mother? That was quite a high-handed entrance and exit with commensurate insouciance.”
“Considering the events of the day, I appreciate her willingness to get on with things with great dispatch. We have little time before my guests are likely to arrive.”
“I understand,” Darrius said, making a mental note to keep an eye on Mrs. Swinton’s manner in the future. She seemed to be getting a bit above herself.
The Duchess’ faith in her companion seemed to be justified, however, for in short order, Mrs. Swinton returned, attired in her usual somber evening gown. She quickly checked Betty’s work, made one or two adjustments to the Duchess’ coiffure, and they were ready to assay the journey to the dining room.
The Duchess struggled to her feet, then strolled in her ponderous way to the dining room where she sat at the head of the table.
Soon the guests began to arrive. They were, of course, Lord and Lady Carletane and their daughter, Blanche. The magistrate, constable, and physician were also in attendance. The table ran a bit heavily toward masculine attendance, but that was balanced by Mrs. Swinton’s modest presence.
It was, in many ways, the same dinner party as had last been held in that room save for the addition of Dr. Alton and the much-changed appearance of Miss Notley.
Rather than seeming listless and peevish as she had at the previous dinner, she seemed almost wraithlike, yet pleasant and affable. Her face, innocent of paint or powder, was pale and her eyes were hollowed, yet bright.
By contrast, Lady Carletane’s face was copiously painted and powdered. She wore a wig of a style twenty years out of date, and her dinner gown was similarly out of fashion. For all of that, she clearly had put on her best for the occasion.
The Duchess levered herself out of her chair, extending both hands to her old friend. “Lavinia! It is so good to see you in person, although your letters have cheered me greatly.”
“I am grateful to see you as well,” Lady Carleton replied, air kissing the Duchess on both cheeks. “It is a pleasure to see you standing up on your feet.”
“It is all thanks to Dr. Alton and our able cook’s ability to carry out his food prescriptions. I walked all the way to the end of the garden and back.”
“I will own that his recommendations have done wonders for Blanche,” Lady Carleton admitted. “But I simply cannot bear to appear in public without my face properly put on.”
“When Blanche is fully recovered, I think you will find it worth your while to give up such fripperies in the interest of good health,” Dr. Alton put in. Then he raised his hands, as if to ward off an attack. “But do not let that come between the two of you or between you and your daughter. I am a crude old soldier, unschooled in proper society manners.”
“We shall make a civilized man of you yet,” Lady Carletane averred. “And I shall forgive you your blunt forwardness, in light of my daughter’s continued improvement.”
“I bow to your social wisdom as you bow to my knowledge of health, Lady Carletane. Thus we are both well served.”
“It would seem,” Darrius observed, “That the good doctor’s diplomacy has already improved.”
“Or at the very least, his value to my wife,” Lord Carletane added with a chuckle. “It has been a relief to have a daughter who is steadily feeling better as a result of her physician’s advice.”