Chapter 11.

Dearly as she loved Vinnie, Nerissa fancied the notion of a flying horse of ebony inlaid with gold and gems. Eager as she was to read the adventures of the prince who flew off on it, she simply could not keep her eyes open any longer. She snuffed her candle, tossed her shawl on the bedside chair, snuggled down, and in no time drifted into a dream.

The prince, a dashing young man with dark hair, blue eyes, and a slightly crooked nose, mounted the ebony horse. As they disappeared into the depths of an azure sky, the wicked sorcerer revealed that he had not shown the rider how to bring his magic steed back to earth. At once the king, his wife and daughters, and all the people of the city began to lament and shriek in despair. The din was enough to wake the dead.

More than enough to wake Nerissa. She sat bolt upright. The noise was coming from the corridor just

outside her chamber.

Slipping out of bed, she reached for her shawl and threw it around her shoulders as she dashed to the door. She opened it a crack and peeked out, her hand on the latch ready to slam it shut if need be. By the light of the night-lamp nothing was visible but the opposite wall.

The dreadful outcry died away to a whimper and stopped. Nerissa opened the door a little wider just as Miles stepped out of his chamber into the passage. He glanced around with a puzzled frown. Though he was hardly dressed for action in his long, striped nightshirt and nightcap, she felt the safer for his presence. She tiptoed out to join him.

"What was that?" she whispered.

"It sounded like a dozen cats fighting a pitched battle on this very spot," he said in a low voice, "but it must have been outside. On this side of the house, no one else would hear it."

"I suppose so, though it did sound very much as if it was indoors. I don't hear anything now. Something

must have frightened them away. Let's listen for a minute."

A feeble, plaintive mutter faded into silence. Then a sudden loud creak made Nerissa jump and clutch Miles's arm.

"Someone is coming!"

He shook his head, his grin reassuring. "I think not. Don't you recognize that sound?"

She strained her ears and heard another creak, much fainter. "Not Aubrey's corsets!"

"Hush, he'll hear."

"But where is he?"

"Behind the arras."

"The arr...? Oh, the curtain. What on earth is he doing there?"

"What was Polonius doing behind the arras?"

"Spying on Hamlet and.... Aubrey is spying on us?" she asked, shocked.

"They take it in turns. They don't want to miss catching us at our ... hm, naughty business."

Nerissa's face burned. She was glad the light was so dim. "Naughty business!" she said in a wrathful

whisper. "There is not going to be any naughty business. My feet are cold. I'm going back to bed. My bed. Alone."

"But of course." Miles bowed as she turned away. "Sweet dreams."

She swung back. "His corset couldn't possibly have made all that noise, could it?"

"No, but perhaps he fell asleep, had a nightmare-'Dead, for a ducat, dead!'-and cried out."

"Or it might have been cats outside." Neither explanation quite satified her but she was soon asleep again.

In her own bed. Alone. Sir Barnabas cursed his dandified, lily-livered clunch of a nephew. * * * * "Good heavens, you are up early, Cousin Aubrey," said Nerissa in frank astonishment. Two days had passed since the arras incident so he had made up for lost sleep, but he was rarely seen below stairs before noon. Now here he was at the breakfast table before her.

"Aubrey is always up early," Raymond observed, ponderously witty. "He is never down early, however,

owing to the exigencies of his toilet. 'The fashion of this world passeth away,' Aubrey. 'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.'" He got up to leave.

Aubrey flushed, looking sulky.

"'The glass of fashion and the mould of form,'" Nerissa quoted consolingly, "'The observ'd of all observers.'"

Hamlet again. Avoiding Miles's eye, she heard him choke on his muffin, but Aubrey was gratified. He smoothed the sleeve of his tight-waisted mulberry coat and modestly touched the garnet nestled in his elaborately tied cravat.

"Thank you, cousin. I have always striven to win for my family a certain reputation for elegance of dress, without assistance until you came to Addlescombe." He studied Nerissa's apricot morning gown with approval, then cast a disparaging glance at Raymond's sober black-clad back at the door. "In fact, that is why I have come down a little earlier than usual. I wish to do you a service."

"A service, cousin?"

"My man tells me you intend to make a round of the neighbours today?"

"Yes. Miles and I have already been out riding and we confirmed that the lanes are rapidly drying, as the

groom reported yesterday."

"I shall go with you."

A muffin-muffled groan came from Miles's direction, but Nerissa looked at Miss Sophie and saw her give

a pleased nod. Aubrey, son and heir to the baronet, would make up to some extent for Lady Philpott's defection.

"Thank you, cousin, I shall be glad of your escort," she said demurely.

"Not at all, not at all. I am, of course, acquainted with everyone of importance, and I believe I may claim a degree of prominence among those with aspirations to fashion." He glanced complacently down at his mulberry-and-cream striped waistcoat. "I must tell you, Nerissa," he continued in a burst of candour, "everyone is vastly eager to meet you. And you, too, Courtenay, naturally."

"We are vastly flattered, Philpott," said Miles with a touch of mockery which Aubrey altogether failed to recognize. "Nonetheless, your presence cannot but facilitate our entree into local society."

Aubrey nodded graciously. Finishing his dry toast and weak tea, he departed to complete his preparations for the outing.

"It is very good-natured of him to offer to go with us," Nerissa chided Miles. "You must not tease him so."

"He doesn't notice. As for good-nature-he's panting for the prestige of being our sponsor. Surely you don't believe that nonsense about his preeminence in matters of fashion!"

Nerissa giggled. "Well, no, but he might be quite a smart if only he did not dye his hair and plaster his face with white lead and pinch in his waist with a corset."

"Really, dear," said Miss Sophie, blushing, "you simply must not mention such ... such items of attire in mixed company, even if it is just dear Miles. You know, you will do much better if I go simply as your chaperon and you have Aubrey to introduce you."

"As long as you are with me, Cousin Sophie, I don't mind who does the honours." She looked at Miles, laughing. "Besides, I thought Aubrey's waistcoat monstrous elegant."

"It would not be considered out of place in Town," he acknowledged reluctantly, "but for country wear it's downright foppish. Anyway, if it will make you more comfortable, Miss Sophie, it will be worth the mortification of making our appearance under his auspices."

"He's not your relative," Nerissa pointed out tartly.

"Thank heaven!" Miles retorted.

They set out half an hour later. The sun was just beginning to melt the sparkling frost from leafless twig and thorn. Swathed in rugs and scarves, hot bricks at their feet, they had the front of the carriage open after Nerissa soothed Aubrey's protests by taking his place with her back to the horses. He entertained the ladies by pointing out landmarks in between his descriptions of the clothes he had worn on previous visits to the neighbours.

Miles rode alongside, or ahead when the lane narrowed, on Grandee, a splendid black with a star on his forehead. Nerissa wished she could ride with him but he said it was too far for both her and Vinnie, and Miss Sophie said it was not proper for a lady to call on strangers on horseback. Once she had made friends, she might ride over to see them.

Friends seemed too much to hope for, Nerissa thought wistfully. The best she dared wish was to be accepted as a well-brought-up young lady.

From the first, the Pettigrews appeared to have no suspicion that she might be anything else. The family was quite new to the neighbourhood as Brigadier-General Pettigrew, a large, hearty man with a flourishing moustache, had purchased his small estate after Waterloo. His stiff-mannered wife seldom opened her mouth without mentioning the "dear Duke" and the titled officers they had consorted with in Brussels.

Miss Anna Pettigrew was a pretty, lively blonde, her elder sister quiet and rather plain. The latter, upon a signal from her mother, came to sit beside Nerissa.

A silence ensued, during which Nerissa tried desperately to think of something both appropriate and innocuous to say. She knew how to enter a room and greet her hostess, how to respond to civil enquiries about her health and how to handle a teacup gracefully. However, Miles and Miss Sophie had not taught her how to chatter with a young lady of her own age who would presumably expect more than polite nothings about the weather.

Recalling certain conversations with Betsy Rigby, Nerissa blushed. At the same moment, Miss Pettigrew blushed and said diffidently, "I understand you have lived in the North, Miss Wingate?"

"Yes, in York."

"I have heard it is an interesting city."

Nerissa contrived to describe the beauties of the medieval streets and buildings, the Minster, the city walls, and the castle, without approaching the dangerous topic of the theatre. Indeed, she had attention to spare for her surroundings, which included Miss Anna flirting in a shockingly forward manner with Miles.

At least, it looked shockingly forward to Nerissa, but she had to admit she was no judge. Miles seemed not at all averse, and Mrs Pettigrew watched with a doting air. No doubt she considered Mr Courtenay of Addlescombe a great catch for her daughter.

"It sounds delightful," said Miss Pettigrew, recalling Nerissa's wandering wits. "I have never been in the North although we lived in many different places before Papa bought this house."

"Do you like living here?"

"Oh yes, the countryside is beautiful, is it not?"

They talked of local beauty-spots and places of interest, and Miss Pettigrew offered to take Nerissa to see them in the summer when the weather made such outings possible. Nerissa gratefully accepted, afraid that to say she would be gone by next summer, which might entail an explanation of her grandfather's Will.

"Were you really never in Dorset before?" Miss Pettigrew flushed. "I beg your pardon, Miss Wingate, I do not mean to pry. Lady Philpott mentioned that Sir Barnabas quarrelled with your mother. I am so sorry. It must be horrid to have a breach in the family."

"I never knew my grandfather, so I never missed him." To prevent Miss Pettigrew from enquiring after her mother, she rushed on, "From what I have heard of him, I cannot be sorry to have lived at such a distance."

Slightly shocked, Miss Pettigrew nodded doubtfully. "I am fortunate," she said with another blush, "in that I shall not have to remove far from my family when I marry. The gentleman to whom I am betrothed is a curate at present, but he has a promise of a living quite nearby, at Buckford."

With a silent sigh of relief at the change of subject, Nerissa pressed her for details and was treated to a rhapsody on the positively angelic young man. After such confidences, it was only natural that Nerissa and Caroline reached Christian-name terms before Miss Sophie indicated it was time to take their leave.

Nerissa was sorry she had been unable to match Caroline's openness. However, she had learned that the best way to avoid speaking of herself was to show an interest in the person she was with.

On the other hand, Miles's interest in Miss Anna appeared to be all too personal. Did he really need to press her hand in parting and assure her fervently that he could scarcely wait for their next meeting to hear her perform upon the harp? Not that Nerissa cared, but once they were seated again in the landau, Miles at a safe distance on Grandee, she asked Miss Sophie about Anna Pettigrew's coquettish ways.

"A little forward, perhaps," Miss Sophie admitted, "though I hesitate to call her fast. Such conduct is barely acceptable in a young lady of impeccable background, my dear, and will not do at all for you. Not that I mean to cast the least reflection upon dear Anthea and your papa!"

"I cannot fault your deportment, Nerissa," said Aubrey judicially. "I shall not mind taking you about. Mrs Pettigrew remarked to me that you are a pretty-behaved miss."

"For that I have Cousin Sophie to thank." Nerissa leaned forward and kissed the little lady's petal-soft cheek.