L &A: 3

“I’m back, Archie,” Neville said, entering the cavernous library, and immediately felt foolish for saying it. His brother instilled in his a type of awe that was not easily overcome, and he always felt stupid and slow-witted in his presence.

Archibald looked up from the heavy leather ledger. “Tea? Coffee?” He waved his hand and indicated the sterling tea service resting on the mahogany cart near his desk.

“Thank you.” He poured himself a cup of Earl Gray tea from the elaborate tea pot and took a seat in front of the Queen Anne desk. His brother sighed and shut the ledger.

“I think our father has completely abdicated control of the estate,” he said. “These are all in disarray.”

“I can help,” Neville offered. “It has been a bad time, since his illness.” He sipped the tea, grateful for the distraction.

“Fortunately London was successful. We’ve straightened out the accounts there and everything is in order. Have you thought of practicing there?” Archibald poured himself a scalding cup of coffee, the steam pouring from the kettle’s neck.

Neville shrugged. “I have. Perhaps after I see some of the local patients through. I was at the Spencer house this morning.”

“How are they?” He asked absently.

“Lady Spencer is expecting another child. I’m a little anxious about it.”

“She’s a little old, isn’t she?” Archibald asked.

“She is. That’s why I’m worried. She already has three children, including an heir for the estate.”

“I met her youngest daughter this morning,” Archibald added, rather blandly. “She was quite lively.”

“Yes, I met her this morning as well. She was assisting her mother.” Neville felt a small thrill thinking of Lily and her deep hazel eyes, her lovely figure. “She’s quite lovely. I much prefer her to Rose.”

“She likes to garden,” Archibald added. “Has a lovely plot along the road.”

“She said she met you there. I’m surprised you talked to her,” Neville added, in a teasing tone.

“Why?”

“Well you’re not exactly social, Archie. Never have been.”

“She seemed decent enough. Besides, Orpheus was tired.”

“You’ve never taken the horse’s welfare into consideration before.”

“First time for everything, Neville.”

“I hear she gardens several times a day. Has quite a passion for it.”

“Well I’ll support that as opposed to a girl who sits mindlessly over embroidery all day.”

“She doesn’t seem to be that type,” Neville said. “Although we didn’t speak much. Perhaps we should pay a visit…sort of a neighborly thing to do, you know. And it would be good for you to get out into society.”

Archibald nodded. “I suppose. If I’m going to be running the manor I might as well get to know the neighbors.”

“Although you take no pleasure in it?” Neville teased.

Archibald drained his saucer and sighed. “Neville, I’ve had too much social experience.”

“You’ve hardly had—“

“What I had when we lived in London was enough for me.” Archibald re-opened the ledger and slipped on his glasses.

“Archie,” Neville said gently. “Not all women are like that.”

“I’m going to take a ride out later; do you want to join me?”

Neville sighed. “I may. See you at luncheon?”

“Yes. I’ve asked Mrs. Medlock to ask for some lamb for dinner. Does that suit?”

Neville loathed lamb. “Perfectly.”


* * *

“Miss Lily, you must try to enjoy these pursuits,” Mrs. Lord said. “Embroidery is an art.”

“I know, Mrs. Lord,” Lily said as she studied the lace in front of her. “But other people can do it so much better than I. That’s why there are London shops.”

Mrs. Lord waved her hand. “Don’t you want to have your table set with your own linens? Husbands enjoy seeing their wives’ art grace their table.”

“Oh Lily will never get a husband at this rate,” Rose said, looking up from her large tambour frame, where she was working on an exquisite linen table cloth, festooned with cascades of roses.

“What if you had a garden theme? Instead of the regular patterns,” Mrs. Lord suggested. “You can take drawings from your own garden, if you’d like.”

“You’d let me sketch something?” Lily had to admit that would be more interesting.

“If you turned it into an acceptable embroidery scheme, like your sister has done. I think that might be something innovative for you, while still retaining a certain…traditional aspect.”

“I will try it. And I promise to make something of it.”

“Anything that gives you time in your garden,” Rose said, but this time she was affectionate.

“Rose, why don’t you join her? Perhaps you can add something else to the center of the table cloth. The roses you’ve done on the corners are beautiful but you have no plans for the interior.”

Rose wrinkled her nose. She didn’t crave being outdoors as Lily did. “I think it would broaden your horizons, dear. Besides, you should know something about gardening. All well-bred women keep a garden.”

“I believe it is impossible in India, Mrs. Lord.”

“You will come back to England some day, dear,” the tutor said consolingly. “And then you shall have acres and acres.”

“Only if Albert makes his fortune in the foreign service,” Rose said gloomily. “He’s a younger son.”

“Amazing you even fell in love with him, Rose,” Lily teased.

“Well he does have other qualities,” her sister said, tying off a thread.

“All right, you are both dismissed to your music lessons,” Mrs. Lord said. “I believe Mr. Mahler is coming for you soon.”

“And Rose hasn’t practiced, as usual,” Lily taunted as she victoriously put down her frame.

“Not all of us are musical prodigies!” Rose shouted as Lily went to her room to retrieve her music books. Besides her mother’s love of flowers, she had inherited her musical ability, which made her love the bi-weekly lessons she had with their tutor. Rose, on the other hand, was a dogged music student; she was more devoted to it out of duty to her mother than love of the practice.