Rules of Attraction (16 page)

"Spring, dear," Aunt Ethel said, "You were going to tell Miss Setterington why we want Queen Victoria to come visit us."

Without knowing quite how, Hannah found herself on her feet. "You want to have Queen Victoria visit? Here?"

"Dear Miss Setterington, a lady does not shout." As she reproved Hannah, Miss Minnie leveled a black frown at Aunt Ethel.

"So sorry." Aunt Ethel looked apologetic and embarrassed. "I meant to let Aunt Spring tell the tale."

"Miss Setterington wasn't shouting. She simply spoke clearly for a change." Aunt Isabel tugged at Hannah's skirt. "Dear, you have a tendency to mumble."

"I'll do better," Hannah said numbly.

"Now, dear, sit down and let Aunt Spring explain everything."

Aghast, Hannah subsided into the chair. No matter what Aunt Spring said, it could never explain what Dougald had thought when he told the aunts that Hannah knew Her Majesty. Was she supposed to write the Queen and invite her to Raeburn Castle? Why? Did he think he would gain power from the Queen's visit? If so, he had quite underestimated her powers.

"When Rupert's wife died, I helped with his sons, and when his sons were almost grown and I was just wondering what I should do with my life"— she smiled at Miss Minnie— "when my dear friend of many years lost her brother and her home, and I realized we would be well suited as companions."

Miss Minnie watched Aunt Spring steadily, and Hannah thought the grim old woman's expression held affection as well as impatience with the rambling narrative.

Aunt Ethel piped up, "Then my husband's wandering eye got caught by that little hussy of a maid, and when I was at my lowest ebb, dear Minnie told dear Spring about me, and she offered me a refuge."

They all looked at Aunt Isabel, waiting for her story.

"My husband died, may the old goat rest in peace or at least rest. He didn't make a provision for me at all, but Spring said any friend of Ethel's and Minnie's is a friend of mine, and I… I really had no choice." Aunt Isabel added hastily, "Not that I'm not happy and grateful to be here, I just want to assure you I had a great need. I didn't come here only because of the good times the ladies enjoy."

Hannah said, "His Lordship the earl must have been…"

"Oh, yes, quite perturbed that I would share his largesse with my dear friends. He groaned and griped like a man with a worm in his bowels." Aunt Spring placed her fingers on her lips and stared out the window. "Hm. I never thought of that. Maybe he did have a worm."

"It's a moot point now," Miss Minnie pointed out.

Aunt Spring looked at her vaguely.

"He has passed on to his reward," Miss Minnie explained. "Or punishment."

"So he has." Aunt Spring nodded. "And as a Christian woman, I should mourn his death, but after the boys died— they were my nephews, you know, and his sons— he went from disagreeable to morose."

Aunt Ethel stood and clasped her hands, then un-clasped them and clasped them again. "They were his children, dear. There's nothing quite as dreadful as having your children predecease you."

Another sad story, Hannah realized, one so sad Aunt Isabel drew her friend onto the settee beside her and patted her veined hand.

Aunt Spring's voice broke and her eyes filled with tears. "I know, Ethel. I do know."

"Perhaps we should not dwell on such a sad subject." Miss Minnie nodded significantly at Aunt Ethel. "Instead you should tell Miss Setterington why we want to see Queen Victoria."

"Yes, dear," Aunt Spring said. "I did."

"Perhaps you could clarify the reason for me," Hannah suggested.

Aunt Spring gestured toward the worktable. "We have something for her."

"For the Queen?"

"Yes, and we want you to write her and tell her she should come."

"But, with all due respect, the Queen will not come on my summons."

"But she must." Aunt Spring's voice rose in distress, and she touched her fingertips to her cheek. "You must write her and tell her to come so we can give her… give her… the thing."

At Aunt Spring's forgetfulness, a tension permeated the companions.

"The thing?" Hannah encouraged.

"That we've made her," Aunt Spring insisted. "Oh, I can't remember the word."

From the doorway, Mrs. Trenchard said, "The word doesn't matter, Miss Spring. You can show Miss Setterington what ye have done right after ye've had a spot of tea."

"Oh, yes!" Aunt Spring clapped her hands. "Dear Judy, did you bring cream cakes?"

"I did indeed, Miss Spring. I know how much you like them." Mrs. Trenchard wheeled in a white-tablecloth-covered cart filled with cakes of every kind, tiny crustless sandwiches, and two steaming china pots. As she set out the cups and saucers, she asked, "So how do ye like yer new companion, ladies?"

Aunt Isabel turned to Aunt Ethel. "What did she say?"

"She wants to know if we like Miss Setterington," Aunt Ethel said loudly.

"Of course we like her." Aunt Isabel grinned at Hannah with a spark of wicked humor. "She knows the Queen."

Hannah grinned back at her.

"She's a lovely girl," Aunt Ethel said.

"She is so kind."

Aunt Spring's praise was predictable— Hannah suspected Aunt Spring seldom spoke ill of anyone— but it warmed Hannah's heart.

"She will do very well," Miss Minnie pronounced.

Miss Minnie's approval gave Hannah pride.

Mrs. Trenchard set out little plates. "Miss Setterington, it seems you have won them over, and so quickly, too."

Mrs. Trenchard's commendation seemed less than sincere; probably she desired to be relieved of the arduous duties of caring for Aunt Spring, yet at the same didn't wish to be so easily replaced. Hannah could understand. Since she had sold the Distinguished Academy of Governesses, she had occasionally— and shamefacedly— hoped that Adorna's handling the transition of authority did not proceed too smoothly.

So Hannah said, "I was hoping to speak to you at your convenience, Mrs. Trenchard, to ask how I might better serve Miss Spring and her ladies."

"I'd be delighted to help you." Mrs. Trenchard smiled, obviously gratified by Hannah's deference. "Do you want me to stay and pour?"

"You're busy, dear Judy." Aunt Spring hugged the housekeeper's shoulders. "We'll serve ourselves, and you can return to your duties. I know how busy you are on laundry day!"

"Yes, thank you, Miss Spring." Mrs. Trenchard stood stiffly under Aunt Spring's embrace, yet she lingered, watching with apparent enjoyment as the aunts recommended first one cake, then another, to Hannah.

Miss Minnie poured the tea, and it was perfect: warm, richly amber, fragrant. The food was delicious, certainly worthy to serve the Queen… Hannah pulled herself up short. But it was madness to imagine Queen Victoria coming to shabby Raeburn Castle, especially for some bauble made by four eccentric old ladies. What
had
been Dougald's plan?

She sipped her tea. "When can I see what you've made the Queen?"

The aunts exchanged glances, then put down their cups.

"Now, if you like," Aunt Spring said.

Mrs. Trenchard was forgotten as they urged Hannah toward the long, purple-draped wall. The housekeeper cleaned up the tea, glancing toward Hannah and the aunts in a manner half-longing, half-relieved, and completely guilty. Then she wheeled the cart out of the door.

Aunt Ethel and Aunt Isabel each grasped a pull on the curtain and stood, quivering, waiting for instruction.

"Are you ready, Miss Setterington?" Aunt Spring asked.

Ready for what?
Hannah nodded.

"Show her," Miss Minnie commanded.

Aunt Ethel and Aunt Isabel pulled the curtains back, dragging the heavy material along the rod, revealing a tapestry.

And not just any tapestry. A huge, magnificently conceived, ornately woven tapestry representing Her Majesty Queen Victoria dressed in her coronation robes, with Prince Albert at her side.

Hannah stared in awe, and when she collected herself enough to shut her mouth, she stared again. The work stretched fully ten feet tall and sixteen feet across, filling the wall, filling the eyes with artistry. This wasn't the Bayeux Tapestry, with its course of war and conquest. This was a tribute, a modern gift done with the forgotten skill of a past age. These ladies, these enfeebled, hard-of-hearing and neglected elderly, had accomplished their feat with four looms and their considerable talent.

Hannah stood in veneration of their skill and virtuosity.

The enfeebled, hard-of-hearing and neglected elderly were almost dancing with impatience.

"Tell us what you think," Aunt Isabel demanded.

"The detail… the creative precision…" The representation of Queen Victoria actually looked like Queen Victoria, and if Albert suffered from one cheek being higher than the other, no one would fault the originators of this endeavor. "It's splendid." Hannah spoke to Aunt Isabel, making sure she did not mumble.

"I told you it was good!" Aunt Isabel announced triumphantly.

"How long have you been working on it?" Hannah asked.

"Since her birth in 1819," Aunt Ethel told her.

"Twenty-four years…" And Hannah was amazed they had finished it in so short a time. "Her Majesty truly ought to—" she bit off her words. Queen Victoria truly ought to see this, but without Dougald's permission she dared not issue an invitation. "It is simply breathtaking."

"Look at the background. We used different symbols to indicate her sovereignty." Aunt Spring swept her hand wide to indicate the greater background. "Isabel placed the moon and the sun, and suggested the sprinkling of stars to indicate the Queen's majesty."

"The royal blue makes a most stunning framework." Hannah stepped back, amazed at the amount of labor and thought the aunts had put into the tapestry.

Aunt Ethel pointed to an open jewel chest. "Aunt Spring suggested the gems to represent the wealth of the nation."

"The colors are extraordinary." Hannah moved closer to admire them.

"Ethel suggested the roses— red and white to imply the sweep of British history, pink for Her Majesty's eternal youth, and the thorns… see the thorns?"— Miss Minnie indicated the brambles that coiled across the bottom of the montage— "to show that England defends her own and can never be conquered."

"So wise. So thoughtful." Hannah couldn't take her gaze from the harmonious tapestry, resplendent with symbolism and grandeur. "Who designed it?"

"Minnie did, dear. She did the sketches and when we had agreed on them, we divided them into panels. Each of us had two panels to weave. Then we matched them up and sewed them together…" Aunt Spring clasped her hands in excitement. "We did it all ourselves. We didn't let the sewing maids touch it. We wanted it to be our own tribute to Queen Victoria. So you like it?"

"Marvelous." Hannah was running out of adjectives, and the tapestry deserved them all.

"Is it worthy of Her Majesty?" Miss Minnie asked.

Hannah drew her breath, but she couldn't equivocate. "She would be honored to receive such a gift."

"So you will invite her to Raeburn Castle?" Aunt Ethel's blue eyes shone.

What could she say? How could she answer? Stalling for time, hoping for inspiration, Hannah said, "As you can imagine, Her Majesty's schedule is set up months in advance. After I write her, it could be months, even—"

"Are you telling us she won't come?" Miss Minnie asked.

Trust Miss Minnie to recognize Hannah's dubiety and address it bluntly. Scrutinizing the tapestry again, Hannah was transfixed by Queen Victoria's direct, all-seeing gaze. Hannah couldn't lie to the aunts, nor could she give them anything but her best effort. They wanted this so much. They deserved to show the Queen their homage, just as the Queen deserved to see the results of their devotion. "You do understand, I cannot promise you anything. She may never come."

"We know. She's the Queen of England. But if we didn't ask her, she would never even know," Aunt Spring explained.

"What's the worst Her Majesty can do? Send her regrets?" Miss Minnie's hands trembled, and she sank into a chair. "We must try, or our endeavor is for naught. Anticipation, after all, is all that's been keeping us alive."

Seeing the parchment white of Miss Minnie's complexion, and the way the others rushed to pat her back and wave smelling salts under her nose, Hannah believed her. In fact, unless the Queen came soon, Miss Minnie might not be there to see their triumph. "Courtesy demands that I speak with Lord Raeburn before I issue the invitation." And speak she would, most forcefully.

"That is satisfactory." Miss Minnie pushed the smelling salts away. "So you think we'd have time to fix Albert's face? I'm quite accomplished with the sketch pad, but not so much so with the loom, and I'm still not satisfied with his uneven features."

"I agree, his features could be more symmetrical." Remembering Queen Victoria's devotion to her consort, Hannah added, "I assure you, there is time to reweave him."

"Good." Miss Minnie pointed at the tapestry. "Get the footmen in here to take it down. We'll take it apart and go to work immediately."

13

C
harles shut the door of Dougald's Spartan office with his usual concern for his master's delicate sensibilities, but Dougald saw immediately that his faithful valet was disturbed. Disturbed, and Dougald knew why.

Hannah had arrived outside his door.

He paused, his quill hovering over the book of estate accounts. "Yes, Charles?"

"My lord,
Madame
is wishing to speak with you… again."

"Is she?" An unusual urge grew in Dougald. The urge to smile. He had been thwarting Hannah's wish for private conversation for almost a fortnight. He enjoyed it, and probably far too much, but he forgave himself the unrestrained emotion. Ignoring Hannah seemed such a small retaliation for so many years of worry and disrepute.

"She begs to speak to you, my lord." Charles imbued a great deal of Gallic histrionics in his plea.

Histrionics would do no good. "Begs?" Dougald snorted. "I doubt that."

"Perhaps that is not quite the term she used, but she sincerely wishes a moment of your time to ask a question."