Jennie Kissed Me by Joan Smith Page B

down for the first day. “And after that?” she asked.
    “They can stroll through the flower gardens and perhaps tour the house.” She made two headings, one for fair weather, one for foul.
    “I think that takes care of it. They will arrive late Thursday. Whichever day is fine I will take them into Chillingfold, and the other day they can tour the house. Saturday evening Papa is inviting in neighbors for a larger dinner party and some dancing. I must write the invitations and arrange for the musicians. Now, which bedchambers shall I put everyone in? I’ll go upstairs and check the rooms.”
    I tagged along with her for this job. She had her list in hand, jotting down jobs to be done. Make sure the rooms are turned out, fresh linen, flowers in the rooms, and so on. I noticed she had given the Chinese Room, formerly inhabited by Mrs. Irvine and myself, to a Lady Pogue.
    “Is there not a Lord Pogue?” I asked her.
    “She’s a widow. Her husband’s name was Sir John Pogue,” she answered rather stiffly.
    “Not a favorite of yours, I see?”
    “No, a favorite of Papa’s,” she said curtly.
    Her sniffy answer alerted me to suspicion. “How old a lady is she?” I asked nonchalantly. “My thinking is that if she is elderly and infirm, she might not want to come to the village with us. You ought to make some other arrangement for her. Perhaps Mrs. Irvine might help to entertain her.”
    “She is about your age. Thirty or so.”
    “I am not that old!”
    “Oh, well perhaps she is not either. She is Papa’s new flirt. Aunt Alice told me she has seen them together in London, but I did not think he would invite her here at this time. It is supposed to be a working visit.”
    A ball of anger burned inside me. I had no right or reason in the world to be angry, but I was. This was proof positive that Marndale’s only interest in me was to provide his daughter a companion. If he was occasionally a little gallant, it was only to divert me and make me think I should be happy in his household. As this was the case he should not have looked so disappointed when Victoria told him our plan to leave on our wilderness expedition.
    “She is very well to grass,” Victoria mentioned.
    “Is she pretty?”
    Victoria clamped her lips tight then opened them a fraction to say, “People seem to find her so.”
    She would have claimed the lady to be an antidote if it were at all possible. I concluded that Lady Pogue was an Incomparable. And a wealthy one to boot. What chance had I against such stiff competition? None, and the only way to save my face was to pretend to like the situation.
    “You should be happy, Victoria. Your father has no son, no one to inherit his estate and fortune. He will certainly want to remarry. You should try to get along with his—his friend. She might end up being your stepmother.”
    “That is exactly what I am afraid of. I shouldn’t mind his remarrying if he married someone nice. She is horrid, Jennie.”
    “What is it you dislike in her?” I was reduced to quizzing a child and felt guilty about it but not guilty enough to desist.
    “Everything. She is selfish and a flirt, and ... She makes me feel stupid and young and awkward. A real lady would not do that. You never did, even when I was acting stupidly. You always tried to help me, but she only wants to go off with Papa and leave me alone. I wager she would not last one night in the wilderness. She can scarcely be away from her coiffeur and her dresser for an hour.”
    Elegance was added to the rich beauty’s growing list of attractions. That Marndale had invited her, an unattached lady, to a working visit indicated a serious attachment. And that he persisted in the affair in the teeth of his daughter’s opposition was as good as a statement of intention to marry the lady. I must pull back a little in my attitude to Marndale, or I would have Mrs. Irvine saying, “I told you so.” About the only good news I heard was that Lord Anselm was