Pauline Turner

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Tea with Margaret and Pauline

Lady Charmain looked none the worse for her awful experience, though her friend Miss Turner hovered over her as if she might collapse at any moment. Eleanor, the Duchess of Winshire, was acquainted with the two of them. Lady Charmain she knew very well. Eleanor had been friends with her mother. Miss Turner was more of an unknown. She had not impressed at first meeting several years ago, but had remained with her step-brother after her mother and sister were exiled for crimes against him and his wife. From all accounts, Miss Turner had not put a foot wrong since. Eleanor believed in second chances and would give the woman the benefit of the doubt.

She knew about the other woman in the room, too, though they had not met. Miss Trent was a personal guard, hired from Moriarty Protection to defend Lady Charmain after several attacks on her betrothed. Unusual to have a woman in that role, but how clever. Miss Trent could follow Lady Charmain into places no man could or should go.

“The men have gone downstairs to interview the scoundrel who slandered Lady Charmain,” reported Sophia, wife to Winshire’s eldest son and therefore Eleanor’s daughter-in-law. “They will join us in time to share a pot of tea, Aunt Eleanor. Jamie will have coffee, of course.”

Eleanor was not going to discuss the nasty scene in the ballroom that had led to the incarceration of the man Sophia rightly called ‘the scoundrel’. She knew just the topic to introduce to lighten the mood. “How are plans for the wedding, Margaret, my dear? Have you chosen your gown? I am so looking forward to witnessing the occasion.”

(This scene wasn’t in Snowy and the Seven Doves, out on August 10th. Instead, we follow Snowy down into the cellars. “First, they visited the Duke of Winshire, where Margaret and Pauline were scooped up by Lady Sutton and taken upstairs to visit with the duchess. Miss Trent followed behind the ladies, as silent and inconspicuous as a shadow.” After the scene in the cellars, “Snowy and the duke joined the ladies. They were discussing the wedding; apparently, the duke and duchess would be in attendance. Snowy wondered if the invitation had originated with the duchess, but since Margaret seemed happy, he said nothing. They then went for their drive in the Park. It was almost anticlimactic that nothing happened.” Not that this was the end. Indeed, 20% of the book and the worst attack of all remained to be told.)

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First meeting on WIP Wednesday

First meeting in the book, that is. They first met a decade earlier, and the picture he formed of her was not positive. When she turns up at his house seeking refuge, he suspects her of ulterior motives, and is certain she must be causing trouble. After fretting about it all morning, he goes to find them, sure they won’t have stayed in their room, as his housekeeper assured him they would.

He heard nothing in the house. No voices, no movement. Down the main central passage he went, from one end of the main wing to the other, and then up the branch passage that led to the other tower.

When he reached the other end of the main wing, he knew he had been right. The visitors had not stayed put. He could hear them downstairs in Mrs. Thorne’s kitchen, laughing and talking. What on earth were ladies like that doing in the kitchen? Making a nuisance of themselves, he’d be bound.

He wasn’t going to be kept out of his own kitchen by a pair of Society ladies. And if they were bothering Mrs. Thorne, they could simply get back to their rooms, and so he would tell them.

He walked down the servants’ stairs to the kitchen, which was in the lowest level of the main wing of the house. It and its associated store rooms were the only part of the main wing in regular use, though Mrs. Thorne had women from the village up several times a year to give the whole place a good clean.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was struck dumb by the sight of a pretty young lady in a simple day gown slicing a loaf of bread, while an older one whom he recognized as Miss Turner was helping Jane to sprinkle powdered sugar over the top of a cake.

That was the most startling part of the scene, though all of those currently in the kitchen were busy. Another strange female, presumably the maid, was buttering the slices as Lady Vivienne cut them, and a large lean man had stopped setting the empty end of the table with crockery and cutlery to eye him suspiciously.

Jane looked up from the cake and flung up her hands, scattering sugar all over Miss Turner. “Papa!”

Mrs. Thorpe twisted her hands in her apron and eyed him warily. “Captain, sir.”

John heard her, but couldn’t tear his eyes off Miss Turner, who was nothing like the besom of his imagination. She wasn’t even much like her former self except in general appearance, somewhat modified by the passage of time. The haughty female who had been bosom friends with his former betrothed wore her discontent on her face and looked down her nose at the world.

This older version of the woman he had met years ago was altogether softer. More rounded, for a start. Eight years ago, she had been slender to the point of gaunt. The extra weight was distributed in all the right places, too, which he shouldn’t be noticing.

Nor was she dressed in the height of fashion. In fact, he was fairly certain he had seen the dress under the capacious apron that had caught most of the sugar. If he was right, and it was one of Mrs. Thorne’s, she certainly didn’t seem to be bothered by it.

She was laughing as she dusted sugar off her nose and cheeks. When she darted out a tongue to taste her own lips, he tore his eyes away, embarrassed by his reaction.

“Papa, did you come to have some of my cake? Miss Turner and I made it our own selves!”

There was only one possible answer. “I would love some cake you made, Jane of mine.” For his darling girl’s sake, and not because he was at all interested, he added, “Will you introduce me to our guests?”

Jane went to jump down from the chair she was standing on and realized two things in swift succession. First, that she was still holding the sieve of powdered sugar. Two, as she turned to hand it to Miss Turner, that the lady was had been soundly dusted.

“Oh dear,” Jane said. “I threw sugar on you.”

“These things happen,” Miss Turner said, with a twinkle in her eye. “You were excited to see your Papa.” She took the sieve and held out the other hand to help Jane jump to the floor.

Jane grabbed John by the hand and pulled him towards the table. “Lady Vivienne and Miss Turner, may I present my Papa, Captain Forsythe?”