Page 65 of A Foolish Flirtation

“Not but what, we found out afterward she had another baby, a girl that time, so hopefully that consoled her a little. That’s his lordship’s sister, Mrs. Nye.” She cleared her throat. “She lives locally now but was raised in Wiltshire. She’s married to an innkeeper.” Mrs. Cheviot paused awkwardly for a moment before continuing.

“Very fond of her, his lordship is, and Master Teddy, though your predecessor, she did not think the connection a good one.” Mrs. Cheviot sniffed. “Very high in the instep she was, on account of her father being Earl Tipton.”

Emmie cleared her throat. “I was a little acquainted with Lady Amanda years ago,” she admitted, “when I lived in London.”

Mrs. Cheviot’s eyes widened. “There now, I did not realize that!” She leaned forward. “You were debutantes together, then, going to all those fancy parties and being presented.”

“She came out a few years before me, so I really only knew her by sight alone.”

“And his lordship? Did you know him in those days?”

Emmie felt the betraying color creep into her cheeks. “Oh yes,” she agreed lightly. “I knew him then.”

“Such a handsome young man he was,” Mrs. Cheviot sighed. “And so different from his father. I don’t just mean in looks, though his father was good-looking in another way. I mean by temperament. Very sunny-natured as a child Master Jeremy was, and always fair spoken, even when he was sent down from school and in disgrace.

“‘Mrs. C,’ he used to say, ‘you must not be cross with me for I could not bear it,’ and indeed I never could be, not for long. No matter what tricks he played! He could charm the birds from the trees, that one,” she chuckled. “And he always had a way of coaxing folk. Even his father could not resist him when he really put his mind to charming him.

“The times he threatened to cut him off without a penny, but he never did. Master Jeremy would always bring him around in the end. At the last, when he was on his deathbed, it was only Master Jeremy that would do. He could not abide the vicar or anyone else to sit with him. That says a lot, now, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, I rather think it does.” Emmie thought of her own father, whose passing had been swift and unexpected. Would he have wanted her to hold his hand at the end, if he had a choice? She did not know.

“Right sorry we were when we realized his lordship, his current lordship I mean, was headed down the same path as his father, and getting a divorce.” Mrs. Cheviot lowered her voice over the offending word. “Not that we were precisely shocked,” she said slowly. “The marriage was, well, far from harmonious. An estrangement, now, none of us would have batted an eyelid at that, but divorce…” She shot a look at Emmie’s carefully blank face. “But the least said about that, perhaps, the better.”

It was so tricky, Emmie thought. Strictly speaking, she knew she should not encourage gossip, but it was all so fascinating to hear about. “I have been very glad and thankful to hear everything you have told me, Mrs. Cheviot,” she said honestly. “It has all been most enlightening.” Mrs. Cheviot settled back in her chair looking gratified.

“Indeed, I have never been involved in the running of such a large house,” she continued, “so I know I shall be so grateful for any guidance you can give me.”

“Why, certainly, milady,” the older woman assured her. “I will be most happy to oblige in any way I can.”

By the time their conference was done, it was past four o’clock already. A passing maid escorted her to the nursery, where she found Teddy lining up tin soldiers in long drills.

“Here you are at last!” he exclaimed, springing to his feet. “I almost thought you had forgotten me.”

“As if I could,” Emmie said, gazing about the large room filled to the brim with books and toys and all the trappings of childhood. “Goodness, what a lucky boy you are to have so many lovely things!”

“Yes,” he agreed sanguinely. “Come and see my new fort. It’s much bigger than my old one and has a drawbridge that really lifts.”

“Do the little cannons shoot marbles?” Emmie asked, examining the mechanism.

“Yes, I’ll show you how. Papa bought it for me in Bath and had it sent back ahead of us as a surprise.”

“Who is this?” Emmie enquired, peering into one of the rooms and finding one of the soldiers lying in a makeshift bed made from an ink-spotted handkerchief. “Oh, he’s missing a leg!”

“That’s Carruthers,” Teddy said shortly. “He was grievously injured in battle.”

“Poor fellow!”

“He’s going to pull through,” Teddy assured her. “For a while, though, it was a close-run thing. He had a fever and mistook the captain for his old, widowed mother.”

“That is quite understandable. I do hope none of his fellow soldiers joke about it afterward. That would be too bad.”

Teddy nodded. “If anyone does, it will be this fellow,” he said darkly, picking up a soldier whose sloppily painted uniform gave him a somewhat slovenly appearance.

“Who is that?”

“This is Pomfrey. He’s a bad hat.” He leaned closer to her. “Even his old schoolmaster said he would go to the devil one day.”

Emmie gave an obliging gasp. Teddy nodded solemnly. “Does no one think well of him?” she asked sadly.