Plain and Proper by M J Marlow (beach read TXT) 📕

him. “One would think she was being marched to the firing squad, the way she behaves, but she actually adores Madame Bouchard.” She found a seat and picked up her knitting as she listened to the music flowing out through the open door of the Music Room. Gerard’s eyes widened as he heard the girl sing. She was a nightingale! He had never heard a purer tone. “An angel, yes?” Gerard nodded and Eustacia smiled. “Just wait a moment, young lord. The tantrum is about to begin.”
There was a crash of keys and an angry voice. “I am tired of this constant repetition, Madame!” Marianne protested. “Can we not move on to something new?”
“What is it I have told you before, Mademoiselle?”
“Perfection comes through practice,” Marianne sighed wearily. There was silence for a moment and then Marianne giggled. “Madame! You shouldn’t say such things.” There was a spattering of French then and more giggling and Gerard was on his feet. This was not normal! Eustacia stopped him with a shake of her head.
“They are discussing the new necklines on the gowns this season,” Eustacia said calmly. “Madame was complimenting Marianne on her…”
“I know what Madame was complimenting her on, Lady Eustacia,” Gerard choked. How did such an innocent child know about such things? “I have to check in with Lord Andrew,” Gerard decided and hurried away. Eustacia laughed and went back to her knitting. Gerard found the man in the Study going over the Duty Roster with the sergeants. “This is a mad house you’ve brought us to, Avondale,” he said plainly. Andrew looked and waited. Gerard looked at Moody, who was very studiously examining a hunting print on the wall. “Moody needs Thursday night off, if possible. Your niece has arranged a dinner for him with the school teacher.”
“Thursday?” Andrew got the correct page and made the notation. Then he looked at what he’d just written and his head snapped up. He looked at the sergeant, who was glaring at Gerard. “A dinner with the school teacher? Pretty, is she?”
“I quite forgot where I was,” Moody replied honestly, but stiffly; “and what I was there to do at the sight of her, sir.” He shook his head and straightened as he saw Andrew’s amusement. “The Vicar is coming to tea to read you the Riot Act about your incorrigible niece.” Andrew’s amusement died.
“The girl speaks and writes Latin well enough,” Gerard explained, “that she has been teaching the Duke’s sons how to say things that are quite amusingly disrespectful to the poor man. And she speaks French like a native.”
“You managed to find out quite a lot about the girl in one afternoon, gentlemen,” Andrew laughed. “Is there anything else you feel I should know about her?”
“The girl is an instigator, sir,” Moody replied. “She bosses those boys around like she was the Queen herself and they happily do as she wills. She handles a horse better than some cavalry officers and she is having a grand time thumbing her nose at rules while appearing not to break them.” He shook her head. “And despite her impish ways, I quite admire her, sir.” Andrew looked at the man sharply. “Twenty five is not enough.”
“It’s beginning to sound like I should have brought the entire Regiment,” Andrew laughed. “Where is my niece now?”
“Voice lessons with Madame Bouchard,” Gerard said to him. Andrew was intrigued. He nodded and dismissed the men. Then he got to his feet and went to find his niece. He entered the Music Room to see his niece arm in arm with a dark-haired French woman going over fashion plates. “Marianne,” he said sternly. “Is this what you call voice lessons?” The two females looked up and he felt like he’d been pole-axed as he recognized the woman with his niece. “Dominique? I did not know you were acquainted with my niece.”
“I did not know you had a niece,” Dominique Bouchard smiled back at him. “But now I know the relationship it certainly explains her manners.” She saw Marianne looking at them both quite curiously. “Marianne. Your Aunt Eustacia is waiting for you. Run along now.”
“I…” Marianne saw two pairs of eyes turn on her and neither of them was patient. She got to her feet and started to leave. Andrew laid his hand on her arm and she looked up at him. “Yes, Uncle?”
“You will cease your interference in my men’s lives, Marianne,” Andrew said as his eyes remained on Dominique. “They are here to protect you, child; not have dates arranged for them with pretty school teachers.”
“They won’t like me much,” Marianne replied; “if they don’t get time off to have dates with pretty school teachers.”
“I hear the Vicar is coming to tea,” Andrew said as he looked down at her sharply. She actually looked uneasy. “So Moody’s report was correct?” She reddened and looked away from him. “Honestly, Marianne! Your aunt is a gentile woman; how could she have raised such a… a…”
“Imp of Satan?” Marianne supplied. Andrew looked at her in shock. “It is what the Vicar calls me, Uncle.”
She bobbed a quick curtsy as her uncle began to choke and left the room quickly. He watched her go out into the gardens with Eustacia and knew he was seeing Angharad all over again. He could understand now why his father had arranged her quick marriage to the stern-faced second son of the Baron Tregallen now. Like her mother, Marianne would drive any man who had the misfortune to be in her life quietly, and happily, insane. From the look on Gerard’s face as he followed the girl out, Marianna had her victim. He turned as he heard the rustling of skirts behind him. He had forgotten Dominique was there. The woman was smiling happily. Here was another woman designed to drive men mad, he thought as he took her hands in his and kissed her on the cheek.
“I did not realize you would be here, Domi,” Andrew said softly as he found himself lost in her dark eyes. “I thought you were a governess somewhere up north.”
“I am a governess right here,” Dominique told him. “I hear you came here to protect the child,” she laughed; “but after four years of being around your lovely niece, I would say it works the other way round. She is her mother all over again.” Dominique said aloud what he had just been thinking. She laid her hand on his arm. “We all quite adore her, Andrew. She has a way about her…”
“I would just as cheerfully strangle her,” Andrew broke in as he saw her out in the gardens. Marianne was walking the rim of the fountain without her shoes on while Eustacia was tending her roses. Gerard was holding a basket for the woman, but his eyes were on the girl. “She’s going to break her fool neck…”
Dominique saw the direction he was looking and realized what he meant. The high-spirited girl was fearless, but she was also quite clumsy at times. She watched as Marianne glanced up sharply at Gerard’s warning and lost her footing. She went into the fountain and she was laughing as the young man tried to help her up and ended up in the water himself. Marianne didn’t just take after her mother, it appeared. Uncle and niece’s smiles, as Andrew watched Gerard and Marianne help each other up, were near twins of each other.
“Honestly, Marianne,” Eustacia sighed as she looked over at the pair of them. “It’s bad enough you falling in, must you take Lord Travers down with you?” She looked at the watch pinned to her bodice. “Three o’clock! The Vicar and his family are going to be here in half an hour! Go get changed, girl. Wear something…”
“Discreet and maidenly,” Marianne nodded. She giggled. “It won’t matter, Aunt. He’ll know better.”
“Marianne…”
“Very well, Aunt,” Marianne broke into what she knew would be a lecture. “I shall endeavor to be on my best behavior while the Vicar is at tea.” She maintained a serious expression for all of ten seconds before she burst out laughing. She wisely said not a word as he hurried up the stairs along the back of the house and ran along the balcony running its length to her rooms.
“You see what I put up with, Andrew?” Eustacia sighed as Andrew and Dominique joined them and sank down on a nearby bench.
“I see,” Andrew nodded as he looked at Gerard in his wet uniform. “You’ll have to change into something dry yourself, Travers. While you’re doing so, we’ll have a conversation regarding your behavior with my niece. Half an hour, you say?” Eustacia nodded and he kissed her on the cheek. “Murphy!” he bellowed a few moments later for his valet and personal guard as Gerard entered Andrew’s room. “To the ready.” He found the man just coming out of the closet as Gerard continued on through the connecting door to the next room. Murphy, an old gray-haired fellow who had served Andrew’s father as well, nodded and waited for an explanation. “My niece and Travers had a little accident…”
“You don’t have to say another word, sir,” Murphy broke in. “That one would have Saint Peter himself swinging on the gates of heaven. Dress?”
“We’re having the Vicar over for tea,” Andrew told him. “I would dress as any proper man of rank would when such an event occurs. Something that won’t suffer when Marianne spills on it.”
“You’re anticipating her doing something so indelicate, sir?” Murphy sputtered. He was not surprised. Her mother had been just as prone to indelicate behavior as this girl seemed to be. He remembered Lord Macalester, Angharad’s father, bellowing at her like an enraged bull. But for all the bluster, he had adored his only daughter. Everyone had adored Angharad.
“I am going to have to anticipate it,” Andrew sighed. “How did my Father put up with such nonsense with Angharad? Having a child like this would drive me insane.”
“Might explain why he was away so often,” Murphy suggested. He turned before Andrew could ask and pulled out a somber gray suit that matched Andrew’s eyes. “This should suit the occasion, sir.”
He was coming down the stairs with Gerard a half hour later when the Vicar and his equally straight-laced wife and sons came in the front door. The butler took their wraps and guided them into the sitting room. Eustacia and Marianne were already waiting. Andrew saw what Marianne was wearing and he wanted to laugh. She had dressed in one of her old gowns and had fashioned her hair so that she looked like a mere child. But he noted the Vicar’s sons didn’t mind; their eyes were glowing with delight as she greeted them. Their mother, dressed in a simple brown dress with a lace collar, frowned at them in censure. Marianne looked past them and her smile dimmed a bit.
“You have met Lord Travers, Vicar, but have not had the honor of meeting my mother’s brother,” she said a bit tightly. “My uncle, Lord Andrew Macalester, Earl of Avondale,” she held her hand out to him and her joined her. “Uncle, may I introduce you to Vicar Winfrey and his charming family. His wife, Hermione, and their sons, Arthur, Nicholas, and George.”
“It is an honor to meet such an esteemed family,” Andrew bowed over Hermione’s hand and saw her blush like a girl. “Vicar,” he turned to the man. “I hear from my Aide,” he nodded at Gerard, who was eyeing the Vicar’s sons quite coldly, “that you have some concerns regarding my niece’s behavior. We shall have to sit down some time tomorrow and discuss this at length.” He saw Marianne frown and found he quite enjoyed making her uneasy. “For