Before she could elaborate, the butler came in, bearing a tray with a tall glass of murky yellowish liquid from which steam arose.
“Your hot lemon, sir.” As he set the tray on a small table at Simon's elbow, one eye closed in a slow, significant wink. “Her ladyship recommends it to ward off a chill. Will there be anything else, my lady?”
Simon sniffed at the fragrant steam with a degree of caution, then sipped. The acid bite of lemon on his tongue, the sweetness of honey—nothing there to explain the significance of the wink. He took a mouthful, and realized that his tisane had been fortified with a generous slug of rum. Clearly Baird had his own idea of the best way to avoid a chill!
“Satisfactory, sir?” inquired the butler benevolently.
“Excellent,” Simon assured him.
“Do go away, Baird,” urged Lady Thompson. “I told you there is nothing more I require, and I wish to speak privately with my nephew.”
With a disapproving sniff, the butler reluctantly departed.
“He always finds out everything anyway, but at least we can have the illusion of privacy. Simon, I believe you ought to change your name. Someone might put two and two together and guess who you are, especially if they know you were in the navy.”
“I'd best keep quiet about being a sailor, perhaps. But neither Simon nor Hurst is an uncommon name, Aunt Georgina, and I have been so little in England these past years I doubt anyone will connect me with Derwent or Stokesbury.”
His aunt sighed. “Are you sure you would not like to be called Sebastian Hetherington-ffolkes? You could keep the same initials.”
“I fear I must decline the honor. Besides, all your staff think me to be your distant relative Simon Hurst, and I have already introduced myself to one of your neighbors. I was riding past the mere on my way to see Wickham when I met a rather odd angler, fishing with a butterfly net.”
“That must have been Mimi.”
“Surely not. Mimi sounds French, and this young lady was of Indian extraction, unless I miss my guess.”
“Half Indian, you are quite right. Mimi is a nickname, of course. Her given name—one can scarcely call it Christian! I believe she is named after the Hindoo goddess of wealth and beauty. Most appropriate.”
“Her given name?” asked Simon patiently.
“Lakshmi. Of course no one can pronounce it, but then most call her Miss Lassiter anyway so it hardly matters.”
“Lakshmi Lassiter. She is wealthy as well as beautiful, is she? She claimed to be a princess.”
“That's odd.” Lady Thompson regarded him with bright eyes, her head cocked to one side like an inquisitive sparrow—in borrowed plumage, given her violet satin. “Mimi is usually at pains to deny any right to the title. I wonder what made her claim it. She didn't by any chance have cause to push you into the mere, did she?”
“Good Lord, no! What sort of a loose fish do you take me for?” Simon explained about the lost bracelet. “She promised to invite me to dinner and to dance with me, as a reward.” He thought it prudent to keep to himself his request for a kiss. “But she rode off as soon as she had her bracelet, leaving me bootless and dripping.”
“I daresay she thought you shockingly presumptuous. If you will conceal your title and dress in your oldest clothes, you cannot expect young ladies to treat you as a desirable acquaintance.”
“At that particular moment, she didn't precisely look like a lady. Why the deuce should she have been fishing for tadpoles?”
“I cannot imagine.” There was something spurious about Aunt Georgina's innocent expression, and how had she guessed at once who his odd angler was? “Mimi has always behaved with the utmost propriety,” she assured him.
“Who is she, Aunt? Is she or is she not a princess?”
“Strictly speaking, no, though her mother was. Her father, Colonel Lassiter, was in the Indian army. He was sent to put down a rebellion against one of the native rulers and then was seconded to him as a military adviser. The rajah took a fancy to him and gave him his daughter's hand in marriage.”
“It sounds like a story out of the Arabian Nights.”
“Does it not? Of course, the colonel prospered mightily, in true fairy-tale style. When his wife died, he came home a wealthy man and last summer he bought Salters Hall.”
“You know a great deal about him for so recent an addition to the neighborhood.”
“Mimi calls on me often, and the colonel is a most hospitable gentleman. In fact, I have an invitation to dine at the Hall two days hence.” Lady Thompson paused in sudden thought. “Oh, I have a simply splendid notion! She promised to invite you to dinner?”
“She did.”
Their eyes met in a glance of understanding and complicity.
Chapter 3
“Ever your most humble and admiring servant, Miss Lassiter.”
“Thank you, Sir Wilfred,” said Mimi primly, accepting the slim young man's hand as she dismounted at the gate of the vicarage. At her wrist, between glove and cuff, her gold bracelet glinted in the sun.
“May I call this evening?”
“You know my father is always delighted to gather his friends about him.”
“Too many of them by half,” muttered Sir Wilfred, then cast a guilty glance at the vicarage. “Must be on my way. Until tonight.” Top hat in hand, he bowed as deeply as his tight coat allowed and pressed a fervent kiss on her gloved fingers.
His inexpressibles fitting as tightly as his coat, he mounted his showy black gelding with some difficulty and cantered away down the village street. Sir Wilfred Marbury did not find it easy to reconcile the demands of the dandy set to which he aspired with the life of a country gentleman.
Mimi breathed a sigh of relief: he had not asked why Jacko was carrying a butterfly net. She gathered the train of her dark-blue velvet riding habit and turned to her groom.
“Wait here a minute, Jacko. I expect Miss Cooper is ready to go, but if she is not I'll call to you and you can tie the horses and go around to the kitchen to wait.”
“Aye, miss.” A short, wiry lad, Jacko was dwarfed by the three horses whose reins he held, but his worshipful eyes never left his mistress. She felt his gaze on her back as she opened the wicket gate and walked down the brick path between beds of nodding daffodils and rich-scented hyacinths.
On either side of the door, brilliant against the whitewashed walls, grew polyanthus in every shade of yellow, orange, scarlet, crimson, and purple. These Mimi regarded with particular satisfaction—they were the result of one of her projects. On arriving in Cheshire last summer, she had discovered that the vicar's wife's chief joy was in growing flowers. Since then she had made a point of seeking out new varieties of seeds and plants and bulbs every time she went into Chester.
Of course, Mrs. Cooper had not liked to accept an endless stream of gifts she wanted but could not afford. A word in Papa's ear had solved that problem. Colonel Lassiter had begged Mrs. Cooper to rescue him before his gardener gave notice. His daughter, he said, having no notion of economy, bought far more than the gardens of Salters Hall could easily accommodate. Mrs. Cooper had smiled and happily agreed.
As Mimi raised her hand to knock on the door, it was opened by a fair-haired young lady in a slate-gray cloth habit.
“I'll be with you in a moment, Mimi. My mother went out, but Judith has a cold and could not go with her, so she will watch the children. I must just tell Papa I am leaving.”
“I have a message for him from my father.” She followed Harriet down the narrow hall to the vicar's study, pondering the injustice of life. To have opened the door so quickly, her friend must have been looking out of the window. She could hardly have helped seeing her erstwhile suitor departing in a hurry rather than calling on her as he would have before Mimi's arrival in the village.
Harriet never complained, always seemed cheerful, but she must be sadly hurt at the defection of all her beaux. Something, Mimi decided, must be done about the situation.
Knocking on the study door, Harriet went in. “Mimi has brought the horses, Papa. We are going to see Lady Thompson.”
“Very well, my dear.” Rising as Mimi followed his daughter into the tiny, book-cluttered room, he added, “Good day, Princess Lakshmi.”
“Good day, sir.” The first time he had greeted her thus, she had earnestly explained that, though her mother had been the only daughter of the Rajah of Bharadupatam, she herself had no claim to a title. She had long since grown used to his gentle teasing. “My father asked me to tell you that he'd like to call tomorrow morning to consult you about the orphanage, if that will be convenient?”
“I shall be at home at least until noon,” the vicar informed her, “and I am always happy to see the colonel. Now off you go, girls, or there will be no sermon come Sunday.”
The shortest way to Mere House, residence of the widow of the late Sir Josiah Thompson, Baronet, was back across the grounds of Salters Hall. Followed by Jacko on his sturdy cob, the two girls turned away from the village along a winding lane. Celandines gilded the hedgebanks on either side, and when they rode through a gateway into a meadow the greening grass was scattered with patches of pale yellow cowslips. The air smelled of spring.
“There was never a day like this in India,” said Mimi joyfully.
“We must go to the woods one day soon. The bluebells must be coming out.” Harriet was abstracted, her thoughts on more serious matters. “Does the colonel really mean to found a new orphanage? Most charitable gentlemen are satisfied with sitting on a board of trustees.”
“That would never content Papa. Like me, he must always have some enterprise underway. At home—in Bharadupatam, I mean—it would be an irrigation canal, or building a new village, or something like that. My grandfather was forever grumbling about spoiling the peasants, but he was afraid another rebellion would mean having British troops quartered on him so he always paid for Papa's schemes.”
“And your papa always pays for yours.”
“Yes, but my latest cost him nothing.” She paused as Jacko rode ahead to open the gate in the next hedge. The paddock beyond sloped gently down to a pond and a fence-protected willow sapling, then rose slightly to a stone wall with steps set in it. At the top, where the ground leveled off, stood a small, white gazebo.
Deva Lal whickered as she recognized the horses gathered by the pond. They raised their heads and one began ambling toward the riders.
Mimi waved her arm at the scene. “I carried out my latest project this morning.”
“The horses?” Harriet was puzzled. Mimi shook her head. “The ha-ha? The gazebo?”
“The pond. Don't you remember how the flies tormented poor Shridatta and Deva Lal last summer? Jacko said there were so many because it was a new pond—Papa had it dug for drainage and for the horses—and the frogs hadn't discovered it yet.”
“'Sright, miss,” the groom confirmed.
Mimi looked back. “And you told me all about frog spawn and tadpoles. So I asked Lady Thompson if I could collect some in her lake and bring them here, and she lent me Sir Josiah's butterfly net.”
“I wondered why Jacko was carrying a butterfly net. You really did it? Frog spawn is horrid stuff. Ferdie brought some home once.”
“I was too late for frog spawn,” said Mimi regretfully, “but I caught lots of tadpoles.”
“I'd a done it for you, miss,” Jacko put in.
“It was fun. I'd not have missed it for the world. The only trouble was that I dropped my bracelet in the water, but a young man was riding by and he fished it out for me.”
Harriet brightened. “A young man? Someone new to the neighborhood?”
“I have never seen him before.” Mimi guessed that her friend was hoping for a new beau and was sorry to disillusion her. “He was not a gentleman.”
“Oh dear. I hope he will not tell anyone about finding you fishing for tadpoles.”
“With no hat or gloves and all on my own. But I get so tired of being always prim and proper! I suppose people would be shocked. I met Sir Wilfred on my way to the vicarage this morning and I was afraid he would ask why Jacko was carrying a butterfly net.” Mimi's giggle was cut short. She stared at Harriet with an arrested look. “That's it!”
“What's what?”
“I have a plan!”
“Another one? What kind of plan?” asked Harriet, her misgivings obvious.
“To make all those wretched men start courting you again, instead of me. It should not be difficult, since they are only in love with my fortune. After all, you are prettier than me by far.” Mimi deeply envied Harriet's fair ringlets, rosy cheeks, and blue eyes. “I wish I could give you half my dowry,” she went on. “I have plenty for two, but I suppose that would be considered improper for some obscure reason.”
“I'm afraid so.” Harriet's laugh was somewhat shaky. “Does your generosity know no bounds, Mimi? As it is, I am indebted to you for my riding habit, my mount—a dozen things.”
“If your mama had not permitted you to accept the habit, I'd have had to take lessons alone and ride alone. Except for Jacko.” She flashed a smile back at the groom lest his feelings be hurt.
“So you somehow managed to persuade Mama that riding without a companion would make you utterly miserable. Not that I am complaining. I enjoy our rides and I love Shridatta,” she stroked her horse's neck, “even if I cannot pronounce her name properly.”
“You see, my projects always turn out for the best,” said Mimi triumphantly.
“Tell me your new plan.”
“I'm going to stop behaving like a demure, proper young lady all the time. If Mr. Pell and Sir Wilfred and the others disapprove of my conduct, they are bound to turn back to you, do you not think?”
“Mimi, you cannot! I know you don't care for any of the young gentlemen hereabouts, but if you lose your reputation no one will marry you.”
“I'm not sure that I want to marry, especially someone who only wants my money. I'm quite happy living with Papa.”
“You don't want a family of your own? Children? It is what every female wishes for.”
“Well, perhaps, one day. Anyway, I don't mean to do anything so very scandalous, just to stop considering all the time what people will think of my actions. After living in purdah in India, England seemed very free, but you are fenced in by just as many silly rules and conventions, only different ones. Why should I always wear a hat when I go out?”