Scales and Sensibility by Stephanie Burgis
Chapter 21
Penelope’s peacocks were shrieking outside when Elinor woke up the next morning, just as they had every morning and evening for the past six months. As soon as Elinor could force herself out of bed, she would need to wash and dress herself and find her cousin and aunt, to discover to the list of chores Penelope had chosen for her that day. Now that Penelope’s début was drawing near, the list was almost certain to be unreasonable. She…
Something stepped on Elinor’s legs, and her eyes flicked open.
The sun was shining through the windows of one of Hathergill Hall’s best bedrooms. Sir Jessamyn had just walked over her legs on his way to the closest patch of warm sunlight…and when Elinor looked down, she saw another woman’s larger hands in place of her own.
Last night’s gown, freshly cleaned, lay folded on top of the chair.
Memory swamped Elinor. She pulled her covers over her head and moaned.
Then she sighed and pushed the covers off. “Well,” she said. “At least I won’t be doing any chores today.”
It took nearly twenty minutes for her to arrange her hair as Carter had taught her, struggling to manipulate thick hanks that looked so different than they felt. By the time she’d finally succeeded, Sir Jessamyn was fast asleep again. For once, it was Elinor whose stomach was rumbling impatiently.
“Come along.” She scooped the little dragon off the ground.
His eyes slitted half-open for only a moment as she set him upon her shoulder. Closing his eyes once more, he began to slide off, straight down her front.
She grabbed him just in time.
“You’re the reason I’m so hungry,” Elinor told him. “If you hadn’t been so greedy with my supper last night, I would have let you sleep in!”
Sir Jessamyn, settling with relief into her arms, fell asleep with his head tucked into her left elbow. Even walking down the stairs didn’t disturb his slumber. As they neared the breakfast room, though, his snout finally began to twitch.
Elinor could smell that freshly-cooked bacon, too. She wasn’t surprised when one golden eye opened and then another. Sir Jessamyn’s long neck rose, following the scent like an arrow.
“You see?” she said. “This wasn’t such a bad idea after all, was it?”
Sir Jessamyn didn’t bother with a response. He was too busy yearning towards the breakfast room.
He was perched alertly on her shoulder by the time they walked inside. Thank goodness, Elinor thought, as she saw Miss Armitage sitting already at the table with her dragon sitting perfectly still and composed on her shoulder.
Miss Armitage, she was certain, never carried her own dragon in her arms. Her dragon was so well-trained, he didn’t even turn to look at them as they walked into the room.
Sir Jessamyn, on the other hand, let out a loud chirrup of glee as he spotted the well-laden sideboard.
“Mrs. De Lacey.” Miss Armitage set down her knife and smiled up at her. “I see you’ve recovered from last night’s drama.”
For a moment, Elinor could only blink. How had she known—? Oh, wait. The public drama! “Perfectly.” She smiled back. “Really, it was nothing.”
“Really?” Miss Armitage raised her eyebrows. “I thought it rather an odd way to treat an honored guest. To be frank, I was surprised you didn’t simply walk away when our host first began shouting—or leave the house entirely.”
“Well…” Elinor was grateful for the excuse to turn her back as she took her plate to the sideboard to gather her food. “I have promised to help Penelope with her début. I could hardly leave before then.”
“Very noble of you.”
In the pause that followed, Elinor bent over the sideboard, spearing eggs and bacon and toast and glaring sternly at Sir Jessamyn when his nose inched too close to the platters. Soon, though, her plate was entirely covered, and she was left with no excuse to linger.
She sat down at the table, forcing a serene expression. In the bright sunlight that streamed through the windows, Miss Armitage looked well-rested, fresh, and entirely at ease, her dark hair a rich contrast to the red scales of the dragon on her shoulder. Again, Elinor was struck by the other girl’s air of effortless confidence. She couldn’t be more than twenty, and if her older brother had only just become known in Society, then she must have only recently made her London début as well…but she held herself with all the assurance of a matron who knew her place in society, not like a girl still searching and hoping to be chosen.
When she met Elinor’s eyes, Elinor had to remind herself forcibly not to drop her gaze. The Armitages might be wealthy and charming new members of high Society, but Mrs. De Lacey was Society’s reigning queen…no matter how little Elinor herself might fit that role.
“At least the food here is delicious,” Miss Armitage said. “Sir John and his wife may be a rather tempestuous pair of hosts, but one can hardly fault them for their cook.” Her lips twitched. “I do think your dragon may be angling for a bit of your bacon, though.”
It was hard to argue, as Sir Jessamyn was now hanging off Elinor’s shoulder with his mouth half-open and his golden eyes fixed on her plate. Still, Elinor couldn’t stop herself from flushing under Miss Armitage’s amused gaze.
“I’m afraid I—” she began, and then cut herself off. Don’t apologize. Mrs. De Lacey set fashions rather than following them.
Elinor lifted her chin as she passed a strip of bacon to Sir Jessamyn. “I enjoy sharing meals with my dragon.”
“Indeed.” Miss Armitage’s gaze followed the dripping oil that fell in drops onto the tablecloth as Sir Jessamyn crunched the bacon enthusiastically.
Elinor could have sworn that she glimpsed a wince of sophisticated distaste cross the perfectly symmetrical and unmarked face of Miss Armitage’s own dragon. His mistress, fortunately, was too polite to say what she must have been thinking. When she spoke again, it was to change the subject.
“I take it you are a friend of Lady Hathergill, not of Sir John?”
“Yes,” said Elinor. “We were close friends when we were younger.”
Which meant…she frowned. In point of fact, that meant thather mother had probably known Mrs. De Lacey, too. Somehow, she had never thought of it in that way before. Her mother had never mentioned the connection herself—busy and happy with her good works in their Cornish village, with no trips to London and less than no interest in the distant world of high fashion, such matters could hardly have seemed relevant to her. It was only Elinor who had devoured all the gossip in the society pages of the newspaper, while her mother had rolled her own eyes and teased her gently over the breakfast table—“To think of my most sensible girl letting herself be taken in by such nonsensical trivialities!”—and her father had patted her hand reassuringly. “Let Ellie enjoy herself, my dear. It may not be to our taste, but it harms no one, and she certainly deserves a bit of fun. She’s a good girl...”
Elinor’s eyes stung with sudden tears. She blinked them rapidly away, taking a deep breath.
Happy memories shouldn’t make her weep.
But she wondered, suddenly, whether her father had been thinking of his daughters after all when he had made those deluded investments. Had he dreamed of Elinor, Rose, and Harry entering that distant Society she had so loved to read about, with those mythical proceeds from the Brazilian scheme? If that had been the cause that drove him, rather than simple greed…would that make it better or worse?
And would it make what had happened to them partly her fault, too?
She barely registered the sound of Miss Armitage’s voice, speaking nearby. It wasn’t until Miss Armitage cleared her throat that Elinor blinked back to attention.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I merely asked…” Miss Armitage’s blue eyes rested on Elinor’s face with cool interest. “Had you ever met Miss Hathergill before? I take it that it had been some years since you last saw her mother.”
“Oh, years and years,” Elinor agreed, and took a hasty bite of bacon to fill her mouth. Sir Jessamyn drooped with disappointment on her shoulder. Miss Armitage waited patiently, though, so Elinor was eventually forced to continue. “This has been my first meeting with Penelope.”
“And yet you’re whole-heartedly committed to helping her in her début no matter how rude her father might be.” Miss Armitage widened her eyes. “How remarkably generous of you, ma’am.”
“Well…” Elinor shrugged as well as she could without dislodging Sir Jessamyn. “Promises must be kept.”
“Mm,” said Miss Armitage.
Unease skittered through Elinor as she continued to eat, pretending unconcern, but all too aware of the sceptical expression on the other woman’s face. Surely, Miss Armitage should have been endeavoring to ingratiate herself to Mrs. De Lacey—or, at the very least, unwilling to offend her now. If she was allowing herself to look so openly disbelieving…
“Miss Hathergill mentioned that you had sent your carriage back to London with your abigail and all of your clothing inside.”
“I did.” Summoning all of her inner resources, Elinor made a grand, sweeping gesture with her knife. “An amusing experiment, I thought—to see if I could survive a week in the country on my own resources. Well, and with the clothes that I found in the inn, of course.”
“Of course,” Miss Armitage murmured, and her gaze flickered across Elinor’s high-necked, dull gray morning gown. “The poor relation’s.”
Elinor suppressed a wince.
Miss Armitage leaned forward, and her dragon shifted gracefully on her shoulder, arching his long, red-and-silver neck backwards for counter-balance. “Mrs. De Lacey,” she said firmly, “You have nothing to fear from me.”
“Miss Armitage...” Frowning, Elinor leaned forward, too. “Whyever would I?”
Before Sir Jessamyn could seize the opportunity, she set one hand between his snout and her plate. He sighed and nestled his chin against her fingers.
Miss Armitage smiled, her expression warm and understanding. “I know that you’re in some distress.”
“I…”
“You needn’t explain anything to me,” said Miss Armitage. “Five days ago, you told my brother that you would be in London for the rest of the month and had no idea of accepting any rural invitations. You were meant to be holding a great Venetian breakfast only two mornings ago. Yet you arrived in Somerset that very night, without your carriage, without your clothes, without even your abigail for company, and you informed your hosts that they must not announce your presence to the newspapers…” She shook her head gently. “And it is quite obvious to anyone who’s ever observed you in the past that you are not yourself at the moment.”
Elinor swallowed hard. “I cannot imagine what you mean by that.”
“No?” Miss Armitage raised one eyebrow. “I don’t mean to embarrass you, ma’am, but I can only imagine that something must have occurred to shake you deeply. Whatever happened in London to set you running…whomever you may be hiding from here…”
“I am not hiding from anyone, Miss Armitage.” Elinor’s voice threatened to shake, but she forced it into steadiness. “What an absurd idea.”
The other lady’s gaze never wavered. “Mrs. De Lacey,” said Miss Armitage, “I am trying to reassure you that you have nothing to fear from me. You see, I am a person who knows how to keep important secrets…and you may find me surprisingly difficult to shock.”
Elinor had to bite her lip to hold back a semi-hysterical laugh. If Miss Armitage only knew… “You might be surprised,” she said.
“I doubt it.” Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside, along with male voices, and Miss Armitage sat back in her seat. With unruffled composure, she lifted her teacup to her lips. Her eyes, above the delicate china, were uncomfortably knowing, even as her voice dropped to a thread of a whisper. “If you find that you need someone to confide in after all—or someone to assist you, ma’am—you know where to come. I can be of more support than you may imagine.”
“Thank you,” Elinor murmured, shifting back into her own seat. “I won’t forget.”
As she took a sip of her own cooling tea, though, and watched Miss Armitage smile in easy greeting to the group of male houseguests walking in the door, Elinor found herself pondering an entirely different question.
How many ‘important secrets’ was the other girl already keeping? And how many people had found themselves succumbing to the temptation to share them with her?
Elinor set down her teacup and took a deep breath. Like the girl across from her, she turned a welcoming smile towards the door. Inside, though, she was rapidly formulating a decision.
Miss Armitage was charming, intelligent and dangerously persuasive…and Elinor would never make the mistake of allowing herself to be trapped alone with her again.