“No, I won't use a worm. I brought some bacon rinds. If the tadpoles like them, the fish will too.”
He shrugged. “You won't get a bite, but if that's what you want.”
They each baited their own hooks, then Albert demonstrated a cast. Mimi watched carefully as his rod whipped back, then forward, and the cork float flew out over the still water of the mere and dropped to the surface. She raised Sir Josiah's rod to try it, then decided that her hat and gloves were in the way. Setting the rod down, she took them off and dropped them beside her.
“Miss Lassiter!” Sir Wilfred started up in dismay. Harriet pulled him down again.
Mimi picked up the rod. With Albert's critical gaze upon her, she whipped the tip backward, then jerked it toward the water.
“You've hooked me, dammit!” roared Albert. Dropping his own rod, he stretched his arm back over his shoulder in vain. The hook had caught his coat neatly in the very center of his back, where he couldn't reach it from either above or below.
Mimi giggled.
“Careful, you'll tear your coat,” called Sir Wilfred.
In his efforts to get at the hook, Albert started stamping about on the bridge. One large foot demolished the cork crown of Mimi's hat, snapping its curling ostrich plume.
“No, really, I say!” Horrified by the wholesale destruction, Sir Wilfred rushed up onto the bridge.
Mimi was laughing too hard to be of much assistance. “K-keep still, or we c-can't help you,” she gasped, grabbing Albert's nearest arm.
Sir Wilfred extricated the hook, then sadly picked up Mimi's hat and tried to restore it to something resembling headware.
“See what I can do,” he muttered with a hopeless air, and carried it back toward the bench.
Mimi saw that while she had been blinded by tears of laughter, Lord Litton and Mr. Hurst had ridden up. Of course they knew she would be fishing today, as Lady Thompson's permission had been sought. Still on horseback, they were watching with identical grins. She waved to them.
Swinging round, Albert snarled, “Damme if we'll catch a minnow with all these people around. I might 'a' known it was a mistake to take a female fishing.”
Ignoring him, Mimi cast again.
“Not like that,” snorted Albert.
But this time her float sailed out over the water and came to rest just where she had aimed it. It bobbed gently, then sank. She felt a tug on the line.
“I've caught something!”
In an instant Albert's arms closed about her. There was nothing loverlike in his embrace; his entire attention and energy were on her bending rod and the spot where the float had disappeared into the water. Cursing steadily only half under his breath, he played the fish with the skill of a born sportsman and gradually drew it toward them.
It was at least three feet long and incredibly ugly, a dark, mottled gray with a narrow, protruding lower jaw, viciously toothed. As it thrashed on the surface, a burst of applause came from the bank.
“A granddaddy pike! Hold it still a moment and I'll gaff it,” Albert ordered.
“No!”
“What d'you mean, no? The line'll break if I try to land it with the rod.”
“I mean let it go. You can't kill it.” Somehow the pike's sheer ugliness spoke to Mimi's heart. “Take the hook out of its mouth and let it go.”
“If you don't want it, I'll take it. Pike's good eating.”
“It's mine. I caught it. I want to let it go,” she insisted.
With an unbelieving glower, Albert took a knife from his pocket, leaned over the low parapet of the bridge, and cut the line a foot above the fish's head. It sank without trace.
“I said to take the hook out!”
“You saw those teeth!”
They glared at each other, then beyond him she caught sight of Mr. Hurst sitting on the bench beside Harriet, talking to her. An overwhelming urge to join them seized Mimi. She turned to stalk past Albert, forgetting the length of the rod in her hand. It whacked him across the chest and broke in two.
Whether she had deprived him of breath or just of words, she couldn't guess. Purple in the face, jaw clenched, he picked up his tackle and strode silently past her to fling himself astride his huge roan stallion and gallop away.
Sir Wilfred hurried toward her, her mangled hat in his hand. “Better than nothing,” he assured her. “Just wear it till you get home.”
Taking it from him, she looked at it with disfavor but set it on her head, the plume dangling down her cheek. As he bent to retrieve her boot-trodden gloves, she heard Lord Litton's languid voice.
“I must admit it was a better comedy than any farce I've ever seen at the Haymarket.”
Harriet and Simon Hurst laughed. Hurt, Mimi felt for a moment like an outsider, the object of their mockery. Then Jacko came up, grinning.
“Cor, miss, you put Squire's son in a right passion,” he congratulated her.
Mimi recalled her purpose. “Yes, I did,” she said with a satisfied smile. Fishing for fish was much more effective than fishing for tadpoles, though she was sorry the poor pike had a sore mouth. She took her besmirched gloves from Sir Wilfred and they went to join the others.
“You beat Pell at his own game,” Simon greeted her. “No wonder he's unhappy.”
“I wish I had wagered on your success, Miss Lassiter,” said the viscount. “I have been after that brute this age.”
“But I am glad you let him go,” put in Harriet.
Lord Litton smiled at her. “Yes, for it gives me another chance.”
Mimi heaved a happy sigh. “It was all very exciting. I'll ride back to the vicarage with you, Harriet.”
“Can't go near the village in that hat,” begged Sir Wilfred.
She took it off and regarded it thoughtfully. “No, you're quite right, sir. I'll go without it.” With a sweeping gesture she tossed it into the mere.
Gently it bobbed on the ripples, the broken feather trailing in the water. Then it jerked and suddenly submerged.
“I do believe your pike has taken his revenge,” said Simon.
He was expected by Mr. Wickham and had to take his leave, but the other two gentlemen escorted Mimi and Harriet back toward the village. Sir Wilfred, casting many an uneasy glance at Mimi's bare head, rode determinedly as far from her as he could, leading the way with Harriet.
Politeness forced the viscount to stay at Mimi's side. She was still annoyed with him for his remark about the Haymarket farce and she was astonished when he said with apparent sincerity, “May I have your permission to try again for the pike, Miss Lassiter?”
“But it is not my lake, my lord. You must ask Lady Thompson.”
“Not your lake, certainly, but the fish, I feel, is your protégé. I have no desire to cause any distress.”
“Oh no, I simply did not wish to be responsible for his death at Mr. Pell's hands.”
“I quite understand. However, the brute wreaks havoc among the other fish in the mere. It even eats frogs, you know, in which I believe you take a particular interest.”
“Then you may catch him with my blessing!”
“May I ask what bait you used with such success?”
Mimi flushed. “Mr. Pell was sadly shocked, I fear, but I simply could not let him stick the hook through a live, wriggling worm. I used a bacon rind.”
Lord Litton shouted with laughter, making Harriet and Sir Wilfred turn around to stare. “That is what I shall try then,” he said, “unless I can persuade my aunt to give up a feather from one of her bonnets. Incidentally, it was a pleasure to watch you rout Pell, Miss Lassiter.”
Perhaps he had been mocking Albert, not her, she thought. Perhaps Simon was right and his lordship was not as supercilious as he had seemed.
When they reached the vicarage, she decided to go in to see Mrs. Cooper. Lord Litton had business in the village, and Sir Wilfred hurriedly and unconvincingly excused himself for the same reason. Harriet looked disappointed.
“Sir Wilfred was afraid that if he came in he would have to escort me home hatless,” Mimi consoled her as they went up the path. “Here, this is for you.” She thrust into her friend's hands one of the packages she had purchased earlier. Through the hole she had poked to see which ribbon it contained, a bit of russet satin protruded.
“Oh Mimi, I cannot accept it.”
“You must. It won't suit me in the least, and I can't return it, for Mrs. Mullins needs the money. It will be perfect for retrimming the primrose gown to wear at my musical evening. You must look your best. Albert Pell and Sir Wilfred are already vexed with me, and that evening I intend to upset Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Blake.”
Her glee was infectious. Opening the front door, Harriet couldn't help smiling at her despite her doubts, and assuring her, “I simply cannot wait to find out what you are planning for your musical evening!”
Chapter 10
Simon was looking forward to the Lassiters' musical evening with no ordinary degree of anticipation.
Gerald was not. “I am forced to attend a horrifying number of such events in town,” he said in his most bored voice as they went in to dinner the day before. “You will make my excuses, Aunt Georgina.”
“Indeed I shall not! It would be unpardonably ill-mannered of you to cry off, and if there is anything to be said for you, Gerald, it is that your manners are generally impeccable.”
“I thank you for that encomium, Aunt.” Bowing, he seated her, and he and Simon took their places.
“I know that as a connoisseur you abhor being subjected to amateur musicians,” said Simon, “especially screeching sopranos...”
“Of which there are many professionals,” his cousin admitted.
“...but however tedious the music, no affair hosted by Miss Lassiter is likely to prove dull.”
Baird, ladling soup, was heard to choke. His mistress fixed him with a steely glare.
“True,” said Gerald dryly. He sighed. “Very well, I shall attend.”
“What instrument does Miss Lassiter play, Aunt?” Simon inquired.
But Lady Thompson could not recall ever having heard Mimi play, nor sing. “I expect she has arranged the occasion to allow Harriet to shine,” she said. “Harriet's voice is charming, and dear Mimi is very fond of her.”
Gerald muttered that if he had a guinea for every debutante whose voice had been described as charming, he would be rich as Golden Ball.
Despite his reluctance, the party from Mere House were the first guests to arrive at Salters Hall. Waring ushered them into the drawing room. Following his aunt and cousin, Simon heard her surprised exclamation, heard the tone of deep amusement in Gerald's “How do you do, Miss Lassiter.” And then Mimi was before him.
Hands palm to palm, she bowed her head and murmured, “Namaste.”
She was wearing a speedwell blue sari with a broad, patterned border of cloth of gold. At her throat gleamed a collar of gold set with sapphires. A diaphanous veil sprigged with gold embroidery covered her hair and draped her slender arms and shoulders, almost hiding the sapphires at her ears. As she raised her head, Simon saw that in the center of her forehead, above black eyes sparkling with mischief, she had painted a round black mark, signifying, he recalled, that she was unwed.
“Namaste,” he responded gravely, pressing his palms together and bowing his head.
“Oh!” She clapped her hands in delight. “How did you know what it means?”
“I don't precisely. Just a greeting and a blessing, isn't it? But my ship was stationed at Bombay for six months and I went ashore every chance I had.”
“No wonder you talked sensibly about India when you came to dinner. Excuse me, Si... sir, here come the Marburys.”
Instead of moving on to speak to the colonel and Mrs. Forbes, Simon lingered to see the effect of Mimi's costume on the would-be-fashionable Marburys.
The ladies met the challenge with a glassy stare and a stiff “How do you do,” before passing Simon with a negligent nod to emphasize his low status. Miss Marbury whispered audibly to her mother, “All that gold—so gaudy.”
“Positively vulgar,” Lady Marbury snorted. “Good evening, Lady Thompson. It is such a relief always to know what you will be wearing.”
Simon didn't listen to his aunt's riposte to this doubly barbed remark. He was concentrating on not laughing at Sir Wilfred's expression. The baronet, unable to drag his gaze from Mimi's black-marked forehead, appeared to be both startled and a trifle envious.
“Daresay you will set a new fashion, Miss Lassiter. Much easier for a female to set a new fashion,” he added discontentedly. “Of course, painting the face was modish for both ladies and gentlemen thirty years ago, and the placing of patches was an art. Little scope for imagination in a gentleman's dress these days.”
“True, a modern gentleman's attire is monstrous dull,” said Mimi, blithely ignoring Sir Wilfred's pink, purple, and lime green floral waistcoat.
Disconsolate, he turned away as Waring announced the Coopers. Simon would have liked to see what the vicar and his family— Harriet's younger sister had been invited, too—thought of Mimi's transformation, but it was past time he spoke to his host.
The colonel was watching his daughter with a fond smile. “What think you of my naughty baggage, Mr. Hurst?” he inquired.
“That she is as audacious as she is beautiful, sir.”
“Her beauty reminds me of her mother, but my poor Prithivi never had a hundredth of Mimi's spirit.”
“If she has set the cat among the pigeons, she has done so with all due deliberation and for her own purpose.”
“Aye, you can be sure of that.” Colonel Lassiter chuckled, but then turned serious. “However, she don't always foresee the unintended consequences of her scheming. It's a comfort to me that Harriet Cooper is her friend. She's a sensible girl, but not always able to curb Mimi's starts.”
As the colonel turned to greet Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, Simon was sure that he had been tacitly asked for his help in protecting Mimi from the untoward results of her actions. Flattered as he was by the request, it left him feeling a trifle uneasy. Why had the colonel chosen him to confide in?
He found himself beside Sir Wilfred, who said to him in a low voice, “Splendid notion, that veil. Great help in hiding a flawed complexion.”