The Matfen Affair by Jen Black
EXCERPT:
“It’s time you
learned to defend yourself against that over-opinionated hussy.”
“Robert!” My
hand shot to my mouth at the word hussy and my eyes were no doubt like saucers.
A typical feminine reaction, but so ingrained I had executed it before my thoughts
caught up with me. Knowing I was blushing did not help, but I raised my chin an
inch or so, for I was nothing if not stubborn. “You should not call any lady by
such a name.”
His brown eyes sparkled as
the sun caught them. “Amelia is far from being a lady.” Tall, vivid and
confident, he spoke partly in jest, but did not trouble to hide what he thought
of my meekness, or my sister.
“She is
outspoken,” I said slowly. “Mama has often said she ought not to be so forward
with her opinions.” Then loyalty to my sister came to the fore. “Robert, I
cannot agree with you. Amelia is a
lady.”
He leaned toward
me, his expression surprisingly serious above his impeccably white neckcloth
and my heart skipped a beat. I had been in love with Robert Fenwick since I was
two years old, but he had no idea of my feelings. Oh, he knew I liked him and
enjoyed our friendship, but the intensity of my feelings was my secret.
Sometimes I plotted and dreamed of ways to make him fall in love with me, but
had not yet dared to put any of them into practice. “You are the true lady,
Leigh. Now, come and walk with me while we discuss how best to bring you out of
your shell.”
“I am not in a
shell,” I protested. “Really, Robert, I am not sixteen. I wish you would not
treat me as if I were.”
He glanced down
at me as we continued to walk between lines of lavender. “How old are you,
Leigh?”
“You know very
well that I am nineteen.” Of course he knew, for his family lived across the
valley and he and I had learned to ride our ponies together when we were both still
in our smocks. I was the elder by one day, but he thought himself vastly superior
to me, no doubt simply because he had been born male.
No matter what
he said, I could not resist his charm for long. Walking with my cousin Robert
Fenwick was always a pleasure whatever the weather, but especially so in today’s
early summer sunshine. Blue sky arched over our heads and the hills that formed
the border with Scotland rolled green to the distant horizon. At this time of
year England’s most northerly county was always beautiful.
“I am serious,
Leigh. It is time she stopped bullying you.”
“She doesn’t
really bully me.”
His answer was
merely to raise his eyebrows almost to his hairline, so in hope of distraction,
I said, “Amelia will be entirely focussed on her latest beau for the next few
days. She won’t take much notice of me.”
My elder sister
had somehow contrived an introduction to Lord Felsham, one of the few notables
in Northumberland, and had spoken of little else but his perfect manners, good
looks and vast estates for the last three weeks.
Robert glanced in
every direction and then leaned closer to me. “That is part of the problem. Haven’t
you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Can you keep a
secret?”
When I nodded
impatiently, he said, “Her beau won’t be at Matfen for the wedding. Felsham has
contracted measles and will be persona
non grata for some time.”
I stopped in the
middle of the gravel path. “Oh, no!”
Our families
were due to travel south to Matfen Grange in a day or two in order to celebrate
my cousin Lucy Fenwick’s wedding. Such gatherings brought the rather large
Fenwick clan together in one building, and offered a chance to meet old friends
and perhaps make new acquaintances. I had been particularly looking forward to
this wedding because I was to be bridesmaid to my cousin Lucy. Almost two years
my junior, she was to marry Adam Ridley, aged twenty-five. Seven years was not
generally thought too great an age difference, though I did have my doubts, for
Lucy was a very young seventeen. Though I hoped Adam was not a frivolous young
man about town, I equally hoped for Lucy’s sake he was not averse to gossip and
fun.
“The young
couple will have to marry without Lord Felsham’s presence,” Robert said with a
chuckle.
But I was not
thinking about the bridal couple. “Amelia will be distraught,” I said softly. “She
has spent days deciding which gowns to take to Matfen. This is poor news
indeed.”
“Why so?” Robert
asked. “Lord Felsham’s absence should not spoil your enjoyment.”
I had few
illusions about my elder sister. Once decided that Lord Felsham was excellent
husband material, she had every intention of entrapping him by fair means or
foul. News of his indisposition was likely to throw her into a fit of the
dismals for days. I looked down at a clump of lavender growing in the border
that ran along the side of the house. Several bees collected pollen and their
contented hum was as pleasant to the ear as the scent of lavender to the nose. He
was right, of course. My sister’s bad humour would not stop my enjoyment in
wearing my new gown and being part of the wedding celebrations. A shell pink
delight, my dress was already rolled in soft cloth to prevent creasing during
the journey.
“The bride won’t
care a jot if Felsham is missing or Amelia is in the droops,” Robert said
cheerfully. “She probably won’t even notice his absence. The groom has never
met either of them, so he won’t be affected.”
“That is true,
but you know how Amelia will be if Felsham is not there.”
“She will be in a
fit of the dismals, and when that happens, everyone will suffer?”
I could not
contradict him. Yet his comment, and the glance that accompanied it, lifted my
spirits. “That is true.”
“You give her too
much credit, Leigh.”
“You are right. We
should not allow measles to spoil anyone’s wedding.”
At that moment,
a loud hail drew our attention to the corner of the house where the old pine
tree stood sentinel. Cousin Robert groaned.
“Shush. She will
hear you.”
“I don’t give a
damn if she does.”
