Chapter 17 A Garden Party

Percy no sooner returned to London than he arranged for a large bouquet of flowers to be delivered to Storborough House. To everyone's surprise, the tribute was not intended for Helena, but for Cassandra. "In recognition of a great tip and with many thanks," read the accompanying card.

While Cassandra's hope of his winning a small fortune had not been realized, Percy's wager had netted him a not inconsiderable sum. He had been so charmed by her passion and earnestness that, on an impulse, he had placed somewhat more than a token bet on Amato and had in consequence reaped a small windfall. Nor had he been the biggest winner of the day. Callie, upon being regaled with the story of Cassie's prophecy, had been inspired to place a bet of her own and had charged Percy with entering the rather reckless wager of ten pounds on her behalf. As a result, she'd come away some three hundred pounds ahead.

"I shall buy our little oracle something splendid for her birthday," Callie said when Percy put her winnings in her hand. "I believe it is very soon, possibly even next week."

Lord Damerel had intimated that Percy would be invited to the fête in his daughters' honor, and, sure enough, on the first day of June, a card for the celebration appeared in his morning's post. It was to be a small, mainly family affair, an afternoon get-together in the gardens of Storborough House. Along the bottom of the card, written in a different ink and in a smaller hand, ran the inscription, "Thank you so very much for the beautiful flowers! I do so hope you will come to my party! Yours most sincerely, Cassandra Damerel."

Percy confirmed his intention to attend by return post. He was, in fact, somewhat anxious to be present as it would be on that occasion that the choice of which Harebell mare was to be Cassandra's gift would be revealed. He'd received regular reports on how the trials were progressing, but as of the latest communication, it had yet to be determined which of the two horses he'd provided would be preferred. Percy hoped his candidate — a steady, sweetheart of a mare aptly named Valentine — would be the one selected but he, no less than the birthday girl, was obliged to endure the suspense until the moment of the formal presentation.

Callie having likewise been invited to the party, Percy stopped to collect her on his way to Storborough House. The invitation had specified that guests need not bring gifts for the two honorees but they had, of course, disregarded this directive. On Callie's recommendation, Percy had purchased a pair of kid riding gloves for Cassandra and, for budding young artist Iris, a watercolor paint box from Ackermann's. For her own offerings, Callie had chosen a riding crop embellished with a sterling-silver horse's head for the older girl and for the younger a dainty wristlet of rainbow moonstones. They were all small packages, thankfully, as, on arrival, Percy was loaded down with them and only relieved of the pile upon entering the house. A footman then showed them out into the garden where the Damerels were already entertaining a number of guests.

They had a moment to appreciate the splendor of the garden with its expanse of green lawn and immaculate borders of flowers and shrubs before Lady Damerel spied them, and, excusing herself from her companions, one of whom was Helena, came forward to greet them. "Callista, Lord Percy! I'm so happy you could join us! Cassandra is particularly looking forward to seeing you both. Lord Percy, I can't tell you how pleased she was to receive your flowers! It was kindness itself on your part to send them."

"Not at all, Lady Damerel!" Percy demurred. "It was no less than her due."

"Well, we'll not argue about it. Come! There is someone I should like you to meet."

She led them back toward Helena and the gentleman with whom she'd been in conversation. Helena, wearing a pale, sprig-embroidered gown and golden hair simply styled in ringlets that framed her lovely face, was so entrancing a sight Percy could not tear his gaze away, and so was entirely taken aback when, coming even with the man, he heard his hostess say, "Callista, you'll remember my brother, Mr. Aubrey Lanyon."

Percy snapped his head to the side, and there, indeed, stood his old tutor acknowledging Callie with a courtly nod. The eminent don appeared to have aged a decade in the five years since they'd last met. The hair at his temples had silvered and the lines his painful hip had scored on his face were more deeply etched. He was somewhat stooped as well, one shoulder hunched as he leaned heavily on his cane. As if feeling Percy's gaze, Lanyon turned to him, his lips curving up in the faintly mocking smile he typically bestowed on undergraduates. "Young Claiborne," he drawled in greeting. "My niece said we might expect you."

Lady Damerel looked from her brother to Percy in surprise. "You are already acquainted?"

"Indeed," Lanyon replied, his eyes never leaving Percy's. "I had the pleasure" — the word invested with some irony, "of tutoring Claiborne in Latin and Greek. He was tolerably proficient, especially as compared with the general run of lunkheads in his year. I don't suppose," he said, a note of resignation in his voice, "that you've kept up your studies?" Percy's embarrassed silence making his answer for him, Lanyon concluded, "I expected no different. A shame, though. You had a certain promise."

Helena slipped her arm through her uncle's, and, casting Percy a look of mingled laughter and apology, deftly turned the conversation, announcing, "We've just had the most splendid news! Uncle Aubrey is to be knighted! He is to be honored for his outstanding contributions to the field of classical studies and in particular for his authoritative translations of Thucydides and Aeschylus. Isn't that marvelous?"

Lady Damerel regarded her brother with fond admiration. "We are all so very proud."

"Stuff and nonsense," Lanyon grumbled. "I don't know that I'll accept."

It was with an inner sigh of relief that Percy saw Will Hendred approach. A moment later, having relayed his mother's express wish to meet Lady Callista, he had spirited her away. Helena, evidently taking pity on Percy, volunteered to show him the garden and make him known to others of their guests. "I am sorry," she said as they strolled away from brother and sister. "Uncle Aubrey can be uncivil. He simply has no patience for anyone not fully obsessed with the classics. You mustn't be offended. In fact, if it's any consolation, I'd say you came in for less scorn than he usually displays. In his parlance, being 'proficient' is a high compliment."

"Ha! Well, if that was praise, heaven spare me his contempt!"

Helena directed their steps toward a striped canopy in whose shade refreshments had been set out, buffet-style, on a long table. Before they quite reached it, they came across a man and woman admiring one of the early-blooming roses, champagne glasses in hand. Such was the disparity in their ages that, at first glance, Percy took them for mother and son, but, as Helena led him closer, he was forced to revise his view. The woman, short, grey-haired and comfortably plump, was clearly older than her companion but by no more than ten or twelve years. Percy was still pondering their relationship when Helena introduced the gentleman as her father's cousin, Mr. Alfred Damerel and the lady, his wife Constance.

In appearance, Alfred Damerel boasted not the least family resemblance to the baron. While his cousin was dark, well-set-up and striking if not handsome, Alfred was fair, no taller than average and slight of build. Nature had seen fit to endow him with a long, narrow nose, a receding chin, and protuberant eyes of so pale a blue as to seem colorless. What he lacked in physical presence he made up for, however, in sartorial splendor: his suit jacket, worn over a matching waistcoat and form-fitting tan trousers, was constructed of a boldly-checked fabric with the wide, notched collar and contrasting oversized buttons currently in vogue among the dandy set. About his neck he wore an intricately-knotted silk cravat, a diamond stick-pin winking in its folds, and on his head a top hat sat at a rakish angle on faded blond curls worn fashionably-long. In sharp contrast, his wife was dressed in a well-made but simple gown of dove-grey taffeta and adorned with only a few tasteful pieces of jewelry. Looking at the couple, Percy was forcibly reminded of a pair of mated birds: she, the drab female and he, the brightly-colored male.

They exchanged the usual pleasantries, remarking on the fineness of the weather, the beauty of their surroundings, and the happy nature of the occasion. As was typical of first meetings, the talk soon turned to family connections, and before long and to no one's great surprise, it came to light that Mrs. Damerel's first husband, the late Sir Lawrence Tyndall, had been distantly related to Percy's mother. She was trying to recall the exact degree of relation — whether he'd been a first cousin twice removed or a second — when their host came striding up. He began by welcoming Percy and then, turning to his cousins, begged pardon for the interruption.

"I am charged with asking everyone to gather near the tent. The ceremonies — the cutting of the cake, gift-opening and so forth — are about to commence. If you'll just take a seat…"

They ambled as requested toward the expanse of lawn where footmen were busily setting out chairs in a rough semicircle. At its center, on either side of a table piled high with gaily wrapped and beribboned packages, stood two high-backed padded chairs, evidently for the two honorees. As the other guests approached, Percy spotted Georgina Harcourt walking with Will and Callie. With them was a younger girl whom Percy did not know but who he surmised on the basis of her looks to be the sister Georgina had mentioned a time or two.

A question suddenly springing to mind, Percy cast his eyes over the gathering assembly and, not catching sight of his object, asked, "Your cousin — Roland, was it? — is he not here?"

Her lips thinning, Helena shook her head. "These festivities are too tame for his liking at the best of times, and, needless to say, since our quarrel at the Derby, he's less than ever inclined to grace us with his company."

"And your Aunt and Uncle Lanyon? Do they remain in Yorkshire?"

"No, no, they've come to Town. They've taken a house in Berkley Square for all of June. We were expecting them to come, and my cousin Francis, too, but they sent their regrets this morning. It seems they are not yet settled in and have a great deal more unpacking to do."

Percy did not think he mistook a certain dryness in Helena's tone, and, indeed, the excuse struck him as so flimsy as to border on insulting. Helena did not elaborate but it was no great leap to infer that relations between the Damerels and Lanyons, old as well as young, were somewhat strained.

They found seats among the younger set even as the birthday girls, each wearing a gaudy paper crown, were escorted to their thrones. There followed a good half-hour of opening and exclaiming over gifts as each girl took it in turn to unwrap a package. The sisters were a study in contrasting styles: Cassandra tore heedlessly through paper and ribbons, flinging scraps and shreds to the ground while Iris carefully undid the bows and wrappers and set them neatly aside. They were both equally profuse in their thanks, and made as much, Percy noted with approval, of their younger siblings' rather crude handmade offerings as of their older relations' store-bought gifts. Percy was chagrined to see Cassandra unwrap two pairs of riding gloves before his own but she gave every appearance of being as delighted with this third pair as with her first and thanked him very prettily. His paintbox was, once again, one of several Iris received, but as no two were exactly the same, she was pleased with every one. At last, the table having been cleared of all presents, a footman stepped forward carrying a beribboned wicker basket which he set down at Iris' feet.

Iris looked from the basket to her parents, her expression eloquent of breathless hope. "Is it…?"

Lord Damerel could not quite suppress a smile. "Open it and see."

Iris gingerly lifted the lid and, staring down into the basket, let out a small cry of joy. A moment later, she had lifted out a fluffy black and white puppy and sat, half-laughing, half-crying, cradling the wriggling bundle to her chest.

His eyes still fixed on the touching scene, Percy remarked to Helena, "It looks to be a spaniel."

"Yes, it's a Cavalier King Charles, and a tri color, exactly like Her Majesty's Dash. Ever since Iris learned of the Queen's attachment to her pet, she's wanted one of her own."

Percy anticipated that the time had now come for Cassandra to receive her parents' gift. He turned to look over his shoulder, half expecting to see the fantastic spectacle of a thoroughbred being led across the lawn but the garden stretched before him, tranquil and empty. A murmur of appreciation starting up about him, he turned back to see a many-tiered confection being carried out of the refreshment tent and placed gingerly on the recently-cleared table, a sure sign that the ceremonies had moved on to their next phase. The sisters jumped up and, each supplied with a knife, fell to cutting and plating the cake, which footmen then collected and hand-delivered to the guests.

In some confusion, Percy said to Helena, "I understood it was your father's intention to give Cassandra a new mount for her birthday."

"And so he has," Helena assured him. "Cassie's an impatient little beast, and she pestered Papa so, he threw up his hands at the last and let her have her present early."

Helena had barely finished speaking when Damerel materialized at Percy's elbow. "Claiborne! Enjoying yourself, I trust. I was thinking you might like to step round to the stables with Cassandra and myself — once you've had your cake, of course! I imagine you're keen to discover the results of our wager."

"Wager, sir?" Percy answered, non-plussed. "We didn't wager on the outcome."

Too late, Percy saw the mischievous glint in the baron's eyes. "Did we not? I misremember, no doubt. In a bit, then."

The cake might have been, and almost certainly was, a masterpiece of the confectionary arts, but such was his distraction Percy hardly tasted it. He no sooner surrendered his empty plate to a passing footman than Cassandra, as if watching for this signal, made straight for his side. She radiated such eager anticipation and excitement that Percy was forced to smile. "Will you come?" she asked, and, at his nod, announced to the guests loosely grouped about him and Helena, "I am taking Lord Percy to to see my new horse. Any of you who would like are welcome to come as well."

It was only Will and Callie who accepted the invitation and, with Damerel joining their number, they wended their way through the back garden toward the mews behind the house. Cassandra, in her eagerness, walked quickly and, Percy matching her pace, they soon outdistanced their companions. Though somewhat breathless from her rapid strides, Cassandra nonetheless broke out in a steady flow of words. "I simply cannot tell you, Lord Percy, how happy I am with my Val! She's a darling of a horse! And I'm so very glad she's from the Harebell stud. I've been absolutely pining for one of Sir Gerald's horses ever since he showed me round his — and now your! — stables two years ago. When it came to thoroughbreds, your uncle was an exceptionally knowledgeable man and I well remember his kindness in answering a little girl's thousand and one questions! I was sorry to hear of his death. I suppose I should offer my condolences on your loss, but, from what I understand, you hardly knew him, so I don't imagine you feel it very keenly."

On this blunt pronouncement, they let themselves out the back gate and into the stable yard. The fresh scent of flowers, new-cut grass and cascading water gave way to the earthier smells of old leather, sweet hay and a faint whiff of manure. The grooms and stable lads nodded deferentially as they crossed the sunlit yard and entered the shadowy confines of the stable where, off to the left, two rows of loose boxes ran the length of a well-swept center aisle. Percy, whose anxiety had eased the moment Cassandra had referred to her horse as 'Val,' followed her with a light heart, the pleasant expectation of being shown the mare he'd chosen buoying his step. He was dumbfounded, then, as Cassandra stopped before one of the boxes to see a horse poke its head over the door, an irregular blaze like a fork of lightning marking its face. "But," he all but stammered in confusion, "that isn't Valentine!"

"No," Cassandra allowed, stepping forward to run a caressing hand down the horse's nose. "I renamed her Valiant. Vixen didn't suit her at bit and, besides, she didn't like it. Did you?" she cooed, extracting a lump of sugar from a side pocket and tendering it on her open palm. Percy nearly jumped in to snatch her hand back but the horse merely lowered her head and gently lipped up the treat. Cassandra rewarded this consideration with long, firm strokes along the horse's neck. "In the end, it was a toss-up between Valiant and Velvet. Velvet, on account of her gait. It's so smooth…"

"You've ridden her?" Percy broke in, horrified.

"This morning. We had a splendid gallop in the park, didn't we, girl?" The horse, for all the world as if she understood and agreed, gave her head a decided bob.

"So, that was you, was it?" Will asked as he, Callie and Damerel strolled up beside Percy. "I heard talk of a mannerless hoyden tearing recklessly up Rotten Row and making a public nuisance of herself."

Cassandra lifted her chin and sniffed. "There'd have been no commotion if a great nodcock of a man hadn't taken it into his head that I'd lost control of Val and come pelting — without the slightest need! — to my rescue. I had Val well in hand."

"She did," Damerel confirmed. "The fellow jumped to a faulty assumption, but his intentions were of the best." He trained his eye on Cassandra and said pointedly, "I believe it taught you a valuable lesson."

She hung her head a bit and recited, "If I mean to gallop, I must rise with the dawn and do so only when the lanes are deserted."

Damerel nodded in approval, and, turning to Percy, said, "If the hour is not too early for you, we'd be glad for you to join us tomorrow morning. I appreciate you may yet have reservations, and there is nothing better for setting them to rest than seeing with your own eyes how well she rides."

Percy acknowledged the invitation with a slight bow. "Thank you. I should like that."

Will and Callie were a few moments openly admiring Valiant and congratulating Cassandra on her new mount before setting off back to the party. Damerel being called away to address some concern about his own horse, Percy and Cassandra found themselves once again tête-à-tête. She reached her small hand up and under Valiant's forelock and gave her a gentle scratch goodbye. "Rest well, girl. We'll have a grand run in the morning."

They made their way out of the stable, their progress slowed by the horses popping their heads into the aisle in hopes of a pat hello from Cassandra. She indulged them all, a stroke here, a rub there, and then, finally, they emerged into the sunny yard. Percy had opened the back gate for Cassandra and was following her through when, without the slightest preamble, she remarked, "I suppose you should like to marry Lena."

Caught off-guard, Percy scrambled for an answer. At last, he ventured, "Any man would be honored to have your sister as his wife. As for my own prospects, I don't rate them very high."

"No," Cassandra agreed, so readily Percy's pride felt the blow. "And it's really too bad!" she continued. "I should have liked you for a brother-in-law. You are amiable and kind. For what it's worth, you have my full support but I doubt it will carry much weight."

Percy, half touched, half amused, offered her a faint smile. "I appreciate the good will."

They walked slowly on, Cassandra, for some reason, dragging her steps. At length, she volunteered, "If you should not mind waiting, I will marry you when I come of age. It is only four years."

Rendered speechless yet again, Percy was casting about for some tactful response when he was struck by a sudden thought. "This proposal of yours… It wouldn't, by chance, have something to do with my owning the Harebell stud?"

"Well, yes, principally," she acknowledged, unabashed. "But I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't reasonably sure we'd rub along well together, you and I."

It took some effort but Percy managed to keep a grave face. "I see. Well, it is a most flattering offer and I assure you I will give it the utmost consideration."

Cassandra waved an airy hand and granted generously, "Take all the time you need. There's no rush, none at all."