Aunt Charlotte.
* * *
The next morning, Rowena sorted through the pile of ice skates, searching for a pair that looked as if they might be close to her size. She’d been tentatively enthusiastic about the impromptu skating party her cousin had thrown together, thinking it would be a good way to get away from the house, but now she wondered why she had bothered to come at all. Victoria had skated away with Kit the moment he arrived, and though Rowena had at first worried about her sister’s breathing, she noticed the young man being uncharacteristically accommodating of his charge by skating slowly and taking plenty of breaks. Rowena smiled as she watched her sister. She looked ethereal today in a peacock-blue fur-trimmed cloak she’d borrowed from Elaine.
She’d been surprised that Aunt Charlotte had let them all come out to the frozen pond unchaperoned, but after the prank last night, her aunt no doubt realized that the young people needed an outing that would expend their energy, as well as keep them out of her hair as she entertained her other guests. If her aunt only knew, Rowena thought, watching as one of the girls passed cigarettes to the others. Smoking in public! Judging from the way everyone acted, it wasn’t the first time.
Rowena finally found a pair of skates that would fit and sat on a nearby log to put them on. The last time she had gone skating, Prudence had accompanied her and they had helped each other with their skates. This morning, Prudence hadn’t even shown up to help her dress, which at first had irritated her and then made her cheeks burn with shame. They’d never had to tell each other their whereabouts at home. The thought of home made her want to throw her skates to the ground. Their personal items were no doubt being packed and shipped to them as she sat wrestling with a stupid skate, and she still hadn’t gotten the nerve to tell Victoria that they couldn’t go home, let alone Prudence.
She finally stood up and took a couple of hesitant steps onto the ice, wondering whether she still remembered how to skate. There were several ponds either on or adjacent to Summerset property, but this was the only one wide enough and shallow enough to freeze all the way across on a regular basis. The Buxtons and others from town could skate here almost every year. In the summer, it was mostly a frog pond for young boys to play in.
Thinking of Prudence made her remember the look her aunt and Prudence had exchanged the night before. Worry tensed her neck and shoulders. Prudence had no idea what their aunt was capable of. You did not want to be on her bad side.
Colin clapped his hands, interrupting her thoughts. “Coterie!” he called before skating up to her and performing a sliding stop that sprayed snow all over the hem of her dress. She was about to protest, but the smile he gave her was so cheeky, she couldn’t scold him. She envied him his simple happiness, even though she knew that as he was being groomed for a life he didn’t really want, he couldn’t possibly be as happy as he acted.
The others skated over, some with more skill than others. She’d met them all last night of course, but couldn’t for the life of her remember their names. The one young woman she had really enjoyed, Lady Diana, had left with her parents this morning for, in her words, death by a deadly dull royal reception in London. There were about twelve of them in all, including all four Buxtons and their friends. Ages ranged from Kit, the eldest at twenty-six, to Victoria, who was eighteen. Rowena knew without asking that all were wealthy, highborn as well as high-spirited, and working very hard at thumbing their noses at established society while at the same time enjoying the privilege it afforded them.
Colin cleared his throat and Kit solicitously handed him a flask. Colin took a long drink and nodded in gratitude. “Thank you, my good man. Now, you’ve all met our cousins, the honorable Rowena and Victoria. They wish to be considered for entrance into our humble club.”
One of the young women, a brassy blonde with bold Slavic features, laughed. “And when has a Buxton ever been involved in anything humble? And of course they can join. It’s not as though we have an admittance committee.”
Elaine laughed and held up her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Not even an itty-bitty committee, Daphne?”
“God save me from a committee,” Kit muttered. Victoria grinned up at him and Rowena frowned. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Vic to be happy, but there was something about Kit that was so cynical. Rowena wasn’t sure that he could really be happy with anyone, let alone her excitable, imaginative little sister.
“Death by committee?” Victoria asked.
“Surely it wouldn’t take death to become one of us, as none of us are dead. But I’m finding the whole thing rather moot. You’re either Coterie material or you are not.” Daphne shrugged.
“But exactly what makes up Coterie material?” Rowena was finally roused enough to ask. “Seems to me the entrance requirements are rather vague.”
Sebastian laughed. “I think the whole club is rather vague.”
A horn of a motorcar blared behind them and they turned to see a Buxton vehicle arrive, carrying several servants. Another one chugged past them and parked on the other side of the pond.
After exiting the car, two of the servants went to the back of the vehicle and pulled out several large baskets from the rear seat. Another brought out a folding table and began setting up what appeared to be a hot luncheon. Andrew approached Colin and stood at attention. “Excuse me, sir. Your mother sent us with refreshments.”
Colin waved his hand. “But I thought we had brought refreshments?” He peered into a small basket that had been sitting on the bank. “Elaine, all you brought was hot chocolate and spirits?”
Elaine shook her muff at him. “You said we should rough it.”
Andrew stood at attention, waiting to be dismissed so he could help the others set up their food. Rowena frowned, noticing a cut above one eye and a bruise across his brow bone. Had he been in a fight?
While Colin and his friend verbally sparred over the definition of “roughing it,” Andrew stood, waiting to be dismissed.
“Thank you, Andrew. That will be all,” Rowena said, unable to bare his awkward, erect stance any longer. The footman gave her a nod of gratitude and hurried up the bank to the auto.
Colin looked at the decanter in his hand. “Well, as long as it’s out, let’s drink to the new members.”
Victoria’s face fell. “What? No pledging of blood or secret initiation?”
“You can always jump down a rabbit hole,” Kit drawled next to her, and again, Rowena saw the complicit smiles they gave each other. Was there something more than just an innocent flirtation going on between them, something she should know about? Not for the first time she felt the overwhelming responsibility her father’s death had created for her. Why did she still feel so unequal to the challenge?
“No blood as yet,” Sebastian said, speaking for the first time. “The opium dens all come later.”
Everyone laughed as the servants picked their way down the bank with trays piled high with sandwiches. Rowena twitched her shoulders, out of place and out of sorts. The servants had brought chairs for the ladies and set them up on the edge of the ice. Victoria sat down and patted the chair next to her.
“Come eat with me, Ro. Aren’t you famished?”
From across the pond where the other vehicle had stopped came a loud hooting. The others, busy with their food and flasks, took no notice, but when Rowena glanced over, she saw the servants all looking over at their group and laughing. Rowena flushed, watching the servants weaving in and out of the skaters, serving them their tea and hot chocolate. She supposed they did look like a bunch of pampered children instead of a group of adults who were perfectly capable of packing, serving, and eating their own food.
Her eyes narrowed as she spotted a redheaded man looking her way. It couldn’t be Jon, could it? Her heart pounded. Though she’d sent him a note thanking him for a lovely afternoon, she hadn’t heard back from him except for the nightly visits of his plane.
He was sitting on a rock and watching his companions skate. Every once in a while she heard him call out to his friends, and the sound of his voice sent her pulse racing. Without thinking, she set her half-eaten sandwich back on the silver salver, much to Andrew’s surprise.
“Sorry,” she muttered, before skating off. Halfway across the pond she almost changed her mind and turned back, but his companions had noticed her beeline across the ice and had correctly surmised that she was headed for them. They came together as a group surrounding Jon, who looked more handsome than ever with the cold adding color into his high cheekbones and his unruly dark red hair all askew as if he’d just taken off a cap. A flickering of his eyes was the only surprise he showed as she approached.
She came to a careful stop in front of him and gave all the young men a nervous smile. As loud and unruly as they were before, they had lapsed into a group as bashful as choirboys, though they all looked to be in their midtwenties.
“Hello, Jonathon. How is your ankle?”
Four pairs of eyes widened at the use of Jonathon’s name and the others turned toward him accusingly. His cheeks grew even redder under their scrutiny. “It’s much better, thank you. Though not quite up to ice-skating standards, mind you.”
“And how do you know my rascally brother, miss?”
Startled, Rowena turned toward the young man who had spoken. Yes, there was a certain resemblance, especially about the eyes. He stared at her boldly and she raised her brows. “You might say he fell right into my lap,” she answered tartly.
Jonathon laughed and stood up carefully. He took her arm as if to claim ownership and Rowena blushed, rather liking the sensation. “Gentlemen, may I present to you one of the New Women. Don’t cross her, as she’s liable to take you down a notch or two with her very sharp and emancipated tongue.”
There was a guffaw among the men and Jonathon’s brother stepped forward.
The man’s eyes swept over her in appreciation, and Rowena was glad she’d dressed sensibly for the occasion. Instead of wearing fur as the other girls had, she had donned a slim-skirted, blue-ribbed skating suit and matching cap and dark blue wool gloves and scarf. A sensible, no-nonsense dress, though trousers would be far more sensible for skating than a skirt could ever be.
“If this is the New Woman, I wonder why I ever bothered with the old ones,” Jon’s brother said. “And would this New Woman have a name?”
Jon tensed next to her and his grip on her arm tightened. “Actually, she does. George, may I present to you the Honorable Rowena Buxton? Rowena, this is my older brother, George. Don’t mind him, I got all the manners in the family.”
But the good humor of the party had fallen away with the mention of her name. If she thought Jon had reacted poorly to her last name, that was nothing compared to the chill emanating from his brother.
“A Buxton, eh, baby brother? Reaching a bit above yourself, aren’t you?”
Rowena winced, but Jon’s hand released her arm and then he pulled her close, his arm over her shoulders protectively. “You don’t even know her, and if you did, you would be ashamed of yourself. Come, Rowena, let’s go for a walk, shall we?”
Mutely, she nodded; they turned their backs on the group and walked away carefully, as she was on skates and he was wearing shoes and limping.
“I apologize for my brother. I’m afraid he can be a bit of a pill.”
She glanced at him, but he was staring straight ahead, his jawline set and his lips pressed together. “I take it there is no love lost between our families. Would you mind telling me why?”
He looked over at her, surprised. “You mean, you don’t know?”
She shook her head. “You have to remember, I was not brought up here. I only came for the summers, and even then there were so many social events, we rarely spent time together as a family. So I was not really privy to anything that may have happened.”
He shook his head. “It probably never came up because your uncle treads on the lower classes as a regular thing. No doubt he didn’t spend more than five minutes thinking about it altogether. Only as much time as he needed to tell his army of solicitors what he wanted and how to get it. They did all the dirty work, while he went hunting or riding or whatever it is he does when not choking the life out of his tenants.”
She stopped, stricken by the bitterness in his voice. Part of her felt she should defend her uncle, but how could she defend him? Jon was probably right.
He saw her face and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. The Wellses become a bit overwrought on the topic of Conrad Buxton. But it really has nothing to do with you.”
His voice was uncertain as he added that last part and Rowena began moving again. “No, it does not,” she said firmly. “My father left Summerset for Oxford when he was nineteen and never looked back. If my uncle did something to hurt your family, I am very sorry.”
“Your apologies couldn’t possibly put a dent into the wrong that has been done, but I do thank you for the sentiment. You see, I hold your uncle responsible for my father’s death.”
Rowena gasped, placing one hand over her open mouth. They stopped moving and she turned toward him. Her skates added several inches to her height so that he was only an inch or so taller than she was. His eyes, so close to the color of the sky they had flown through together, seemed very close to her own, and her pulse raced. “I’m so very sorry for your loss, but I don’t think my uncle . . .” Her voice stopped as he placed a gentle hand over her mouth.
“Listen before you make judgments. I don’t make these accusations lightly, but neither are they up for debate. Understood?”
She nodded and they continued moving, he walking and she gliding along next to him.
“The Wellses and the Buxtons had been friends for a very long time, since the War of the Roses, actually. A young page named Wells saved the life of the son from Summerset. Lord Summerset knighted him and gave him a large piece of his estate in reward. It was a prime piece of land and they made a good living from it. So even though I’m not of noble blood, I am considered gentry.” He gave her a wry smile, but Rowena couldn’t smile back. The pit of her stomach was in knots as she anticipated what she was going to hear about her family.