Bitter Oath (New Atlantis)(4)

She wish he was here to see his life’s work admired in this way. Certainly, there had been papers written and published on his findings during his lifetime. But there had never been anything like the scope and comprehensiveness of this exhibit, which rivalled in its distinct way, Sir Hans Sloane’s own collection.

Liv smiled nervously at her older sister Augusta, who, as a married lady, was seen as a suitable chaperone for her at such an event. They were two of only a handful of women in attendance at the occasion.

‘You have done grandfather proud, Livy dear. I am sure he is looking down from On High right now, smiling fit to burst.’

Liv laughed softly, behind her gloved hand, so as not to appear unladylike. ‘Yes, exactly. I imagine him just so. And making outrageous comments about each and every scholar who passes by.’ She sighed sadly. ‘I miss him Gussie, even after five years, I miss him.’

Augusta patted her shoulder gently. ‘There, there, dear. He had a good run: a full, adventurous and productive life, followed by death in his sleep in his own bed, at age 83. We would all hope for as much.’

‘Yes, of course. I am just feeling sorry for myself, I know. Without him, Foxmoor Manor just does not feel the same. Father is a dear, but he is always so serious and busy with his land and tenants. Aunt Hera is still my stalwart supporter, of course, but she grows feeble. And shortly, our baby sister, Portia, will marry and fly the nest. I will soon rattle around that monstrous, old house alone, like the poor spinster daughter I truly am.’

Augusta laughed. ‘Darling, you may be a blue stockinged spinster at thirty years of age, but I can never see you as poor, alone, or as rattling around, with nothing to do with your time. You have just finished the most challenging and time consuming project of your life, to date. There will necessarily be an interim period before you find your next project. But next project there will be.

‘Maybe you will take an expedition to the Andes or down the Amazon. Without a husband to tell you nay, and the deep pockets of a doting, wealthy father behind you; the sky is the limit. Or you could always marry. There are still suitors out there just waiting for the first sign of encouragement.’

Liv shuddered at the last idea. She had fought a lifetime of pressure to wed, from everyone except her grandfather. Now, when she was safely beyond marriageable age, and secure in her spinster role, she had no desire to stir that hornet’s nest again. Watching her mother weaken and die from one baby after the next, in the hope of giving her husband the son he needed to inherit his baronetcy, had been distressing enough. But then, to have her eldest sister, Claudia, die in childbirth at the youthful age of twenty, had been devastating. And the final incentive to avoid matrimonial bliss had been watching her next eldest sister become worn and old by 34, after giving birth to five children, one after the other, with barely a breathing space between them.

And, though Augusta seemed happy enough with her physician husband, and was a little sad because she had not yet borne him a child, it didn’t weigh the scales back in marriage’s favour by much.

Of course, the most pressing reason Liv had never married was because the right man had never come along. None of the dandies and rakes of her class had interested her. And any of the scientists or explorers her grandfather had introduced her to over the years, had all been married, or so smitten with their work that they had eyes for nothing else.

No, she would never be one of those women who married for security or social standing. With a brain in her head, an education that outstripped most men of her station, and the wealth to support herself into old age, what need had she of a man?

‘Oh look, Livy, who is that handsome, young man with Lord Drumoyne?’ August interrupted Liv’s musings on marriage with a stage whisper that was loud enough to attract the attention of several men at the closest display cabinet.

Liv dutifully followed her sister’s line of vision and came to a startling halt, as her gaze made contact with Drumoyne’s companion. Oh yes, handsome indeed! And well dressed, in the sober fashion of the times. But his prominent cheekbones, almond shaped eyes, and light brown skin marked him as anything but English.

‘I wonder where he is from?’ Liv said aloud, without realising it.

‘He does look foreign, does he not? But a gentleman, all the same. Young though. What would you say? Early twenties?’

‘Yes, I would imagine so. Although, if he is from the Orient, he may be older than he looks.’

‘Do you think he might be from the Orient? But he is exceptionally tall. I have heard that those from the East are remarkably short and slim.’

‘He is certainly not short. Drumoyne is nearly six feet, and he appears half a head taller again.’

‘And not slim. He fills out that frock coat’s shoulders admirably.’ Augusta giggled in a most unladylike fashion.

‘If you do not contain yourself, dear sister, I will tell your beloved husband where your eyes have wandered, and then where will you be?’ Liv jested.

‘My eyes may wander, but my heart remains focused on only my beloved Freddy. It might be amusing to see him jealous though… so do your worst.’

‘Cruel woman, to want to cause your beloved such disquiet.’

‘A little excitement never hurt any relationship of worth.’

At that moment, Lord Drumoyne and his dark haired companion began to move in their direction. Both women stopped their banter and blushed.

‘They’re coming this way,’ gasped Augusta from behind her gloved hand.

‘Probably to ask about grandfather’s collection. You do remember that is why we are here, do you not?’ Liv grinned cheekily at her flushed sister, who was behaving more like a girl than a married woman. It pleased her no end.

A moment later, the middle-aged Lord, with silver-white hair and expansive girth, was introducing them to the young gentleman.

His eyes are not brown, as I expected. They are a quite startlingly blue. And they glitter with excitement and intelligence. Her heart missed a beat.

‘Mrs Darrington, Miss Mulgrave, may I present Lord Rene L’Angley, the youngest son of the Duke of L’Angley, late of beleaguer France, and now resident of the Americas?’ Drumoyne said, with his usual formal stiffness.

The ladies dropped a courtesy as the young man bowed.

‘The United States of America, Lord L’Angley?’ asked Liv with interest. She would not have picked him for a Frenchman, although that might account for his height.

‘No, Miss Mulgrave, further north. In the territory still loyal to the Old World,’ the man replied, his deep voice at odds with his youthful countenance. And his accent was odd. Not French, although there was a slight inflection there, but not English either. Having met few citizens of the colonies, she was not sure what they should sound like. But the accent was clear and precise, and she found she was looking forward to hearing more of it.

‘What brings you to England, sir?’ Augusta asked politely.

‘My father’s business dealings. But I have taken time out for my own entertainment and edification. I heard Sir Hugo Mulgrave’s natural collection was well worth seeing, and I am delighted to find it is so. Lord Drumoyne informs me that it is your hard work that has made it the splendid display it is, Miss Mulgrave.’ He smiled at her then, and his perfect white teeth seemed whiter still, against the darkness of his skin.

She smiled back, flattered despite herself. ‘Thankyou sir, but I simply compiled and collated my grandfather’s work. He was the explorer who turned his detailed eye into knowledge to feed the ignorant.’

‘You are too modest, Miss Mulgrave. I know, first-hand, the skill and effort required to bring together such a display. Without you, it would be nothing more than boxes of meaningless paraphernalia.’

Her cynical heart gave a little jump. A man who understood what it took to compile information in a meaningful way? How rare was that!

‘Thank you, my Lord, I am deeply grateful for your appreciation.’ She let herself look deeply into his blue eyes. They reminded her of the description her grandfather had given of the sky over the north western plains of North America – a deep, vibrant blue that went on forever.

For a long moment, a pregnant pause filled the space, and L’Angley looked startled and a little discomforted. When Drumoyne cleared his throat, Liv looked away quickly, mortified by her own lack of decorum.

‘What is your favourite part of the exhibit, Lord L’Angley?’ Augusta asked, filling the painfully long silence.

‘Ah, that is easy: The drawings of Sir Mulgrave’s 1750 exploration of the North Western Plains. I was particularly taken by a detailed rendering of the most strange and wonderful earth worm I have ever seen. It is quite enormous, if your grandfather’s dimensions were accurate.’

‘Yes, it is considered contentious. Although my grandfather swore that his rendering of the creature was accurate. But because he could not safely preserve the creature to bring it back with him, doubt still exists as to its actual size.’