The Heart's Companion - By Holly Newman Page 0,18

in a bowl of tepid water, then wiped them on a scrap of cloth tacked at the end of the workbench. She untied the large, canvas apron and slipped it over her head, hanging it on a peg embedded in the whitewashed wall. Then she laid a gentle hand on Jane’s shoulder.

"Do not brood so. Your face will set like a pudding," she admonished fondly, inexplicably feeling decades older than her niece, though only thirteen years separated them. "Come, let’s go for a stroll in the garden. This may be one of our last days to enjoy it in peace before Serena’s party descends upon us with all their concomitant noise and bother."

Jane smiled, tucking her notes under her arm. "An excellent suggestion. While we walk we can discuss the guest list, too." She linked arms with her aunt. "But if you tell me we must invite the Biddulphs, I shall squirm and turn recalcitrant on you. A more pious, dull group I have never encountered. I’m amazed they aren’t avowed evangelicals."

"I should think better of them if they were. But as to inviting them, I do not know. I shall ask Mrs. Chitterdean her opinion; or perhaps Mrs. Phibbs would know if Mary and Delbert included them in gatherings here." Lady Elsbeth sighed. "That is the problem with being new to a neighborhood. One doesn’t know the social situation, and it is easy to misstep and cause affront."

"Is it so important to observe all the rules all the time?" Jane asked as they climbed the stairs to the ground floor.

Lady Elsbeth looked askance at her niece. She opened her mouth to answer, then shut it firmly. What should she say to that? What could she say? Before she met the Earl of Royce she would have been quick to say it was important. But meeting him opened doors in her mind that she’d thought were closed and sealed forever. Fifteen years ago she followed the rules, to her lasting regret. Could she now, in clear conscience, encourage her niece to do likewise in all circumstances? It appeared she had much to learn as well.

"I don’t know," she said slowly, shaking her head in wonder. "But I suggest we follow the established practices of Mary and Delbert; after all, they have to live in the neighborhood long after we’ve left!"

Jane sighed. "Yes, I suppose that would be best. Let me go return my notes to the library and fetch my hat. I shall meet you at the side entrance. I could use some fresh air. My head is reeling. Perhaps we can join Twink and the boys at the Folly. Cook said they cajoled her into packing a picnic for them. Maybe they have some left. I think I would be better right now for a little childish nonsense!"

Lady Elsbeth laughed. "I couldn’t agree more. But with those two rapscallions do not count on there being leftovers!"

Jane’s answering laughter tinkled merrily as with a light step she ran off down the long hall to the library.

Jane and her aunt made their way leisurely across the smoothly scythed grass. Lady Elsbeth stopped occasionally to comment on a planting. Jane allowed her attention to be drawn to a pair of birds that appeared to be playing tag as they swooped and dove together, alternately beating their wings furiously and gliding on the breeze. She followed their progress past the rushes and over the ornamental lake to disappear in the spreading branches of the old oak on the other side. She was surprised to see a bundle of cloth laying on the ground at the base of the tree. She touched Lady Elsbeth lightly on the arm. "Look, isn’t that Twink lying under the oak?"

Lady Elsbeth raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare. "Yes, and sound asleep by the looks of it. The boys no doubt exhausted her. Isn’t that brown shape next to her Edward?"

"I believe so. But where’s Bertram?"

"Most likely asleep on the other side of the tree."

"Or he’s taken the opportunity of Twink’s relaxed vigilance to sneak off on his own," suggested Jane over her shoulder as she hurried around the lake to the oak tree.

"Surely he wouldn’t. Not after yesterday!" Lady Elsbeth exclaimed, following behind her.

But so it proved to be. Miss Twinkleham was stretched out on a blanket, gently snoring. Edward was next to her, his little arms and legs flung out in what appeared to his aunts a most uncomfortable position. The picnic