“Perhaps,” Meg agreed. “Although I don’t think her back was breaking.” She waved that aside with a rueful laugh. “Drat it, how did my sister become a camel? Is there an old walking dress there, Mathews, that no one will associate with Martha?”
There was, indeed. For ease, Mathews had also moved a few things through from the chamber Meg usually used, including an evening gown and two day dresses that she had left behind from previous visits.
Meg rather liked her sister’s rejected walking dress and riding habit. It was of a darker shade of green than Martha typically favored. Meg, who rarely paid much attention to her dress, paused only to be sure she looked like herself again and to smooth all of Martha out of her expression and gestures.
It was a relief to slip outside into the sunshine and walk unaccompanied through the gardens to the woods and fields beyond. She walked a little farther than she meant to and was quite glad to discover the road that ran directly between Calvert Court and the village. However, here she also met the vicar of the local church, Mr. Sanhurst, riding on a tired-looking nag toward the village.
“My lady!” he said in some delight, bowing respectfully from the saddle.
“Not Lady Calvert,” she said at once. “Merely her sister, Meg, but very glad to meet you again, sir.”
“Ah, Lady Meg, how charming!” the vicar beamed. “Have you come on a long visit to your sister?”
“Until she tires of me,” Meg said lightly. “I arrived a few days ago,” she added, remembering her scandalous position, “and will probably stay for the ball, at least.”
“How delightful. I believe we shall have the further pleasure of your company at tea this afternoon.”
“Really? Martha never tells me anything. Are we coming to the vicarage?”
The vicar looked alarmed. “Why, no, Lady Calvert invited us to the Court.”
“To be honest, that is much better, for my sister already has guests,” Meg said hurriedly. Another movement caught her eye as a horseman emerged through the trees. Harry, in civilian riding dress. She waved to him, and he raised his hand in immediate response, urging his mount into a trot toward them.
“Ah, this will be one of her ladyship’s guests?” Mr. Sanhurst guessed.
“Indeed. Harry, this is Mr. Sanhurst, vicar of Calvert Church. Sir, Captain Lord Harry de Vere. We have known him forever,” she added. “Our land marches with Lord Staunton’s, and we all used to play together as children.”
“How do you do, sir?” Harry reached across to shake hands with the vicar.
“Delighted to make your acquaintance, my lord. You are recently returned from the great victories over Bonaparte, eh?”
“Indeed, sir. I was honored to be there.”
“I shall enjoy hearing all about it later,” the vicar assured him. “For now, I must be on my way. Visiting the sick, you know. Until teatime, my lady. Goodbye.” With a bow, the vicar trotted on.
Harry dismounted and fell into step beside Meg, leading the horse, which she recognized as one of Calvert’s.
“Well done,” she said with a quick smile. “I wasn’t sure you would catch on to the fact that I’m Meg for the morning!”
“You actually stand differently when you’re Martha. It’s quite disconcerting.”
“Martha has more poise,” she agreed. “I always envied her that, although I could never quite bring myself to copy her except for mischief.”
“You have no need to copy Martha’s version. You have enough of your own.”
She cast him a surprised glance. “Why, thank you, Harry. I think that’s the kindest compliment you’ve ever given me.”
“Truly? No wonder you wouldn’t marry me.”
She cast him a quick, surprised glance. “Most compliments are meaningless,” she observed. “Calvert was always very good at those. He has departed for London already.”
He met her gaze. “Is that not a good thing?”
“In so far as he is troubling to look. Only… I don’t think she wants to be found, Harry. So I don’t believe she is there. My parents’ house, his own townhouse, would be the first places anyone would look for her.”
He was silent for a few moments. Then he said apologetically, “Forgive me, but is Calvert faithful to her?”
Meg dragged her gaze free and reluctantly shook her head.
“Could she not be punishing him, insisting on his attention?”
Meg shook her head impatiently. “To Martha, that would be humiliating herself. Besides, I believe she had come to terms with the…imperfection of marriage, perhaps even understood that he could be unfaithful and still love her.”
Harry’s gaze burned the side of her face. “Could you understand that?”
She shrugged. “I can understand it. I would not care to live with it, and I doubt my feelings would survive the treatment.”
“Then is it not possible Martha has simply had enough and made her play? Either for his reformation or for her own…happiness?”
“You mean she has found a lover of her own?” Meg said bluntly. “But why now? Why go when she is about to fill the house with people? Even if she wants some kind of assignation, it would surely be simpler when the place is full of guests.”
He blinked. “You have given this some thought.”
She laughed. “Not for my own purposes. But I have observed the princess for a long time.” She frowned. “I don’t really believe it, though. Martha flirts, but her feelings are not shallow. If she took a lover, she would need to be in love, and I do not feel—I have not felt—that happiness from her.”
He regarded her. “Did being in love with Calvert make you so very happy? Even before he offered for Martha.”
She waved that aside. “I was not in love with Calvert. I think I wanted to be because it was safe. I always knew he would choose Martha. And then I could play the tragic heroine.”
“It does not sound like you,” he observed.
“No, well, I was confused.”
“About love?”
She flushed as she met his gaze. This was not the sort of conversation they had ever had, but she had too much pride not to answer. “Yes. And how I wished to live. I did not like everything changing, growing up, being expected to marry. Choosing that love from the small pool of men approved by my parents. It seemed…ridiculous.”
“Do you still feel like that?”
“Oh yes, but I am past one-and-twenty now,” she said lightly. “I can marry a handsome footman if I choose. And indeed, after this scandal, I might as well.”
“Do you have a particular footman in mind?”
“No, but I live in hope.”
He smiled. “Liar.”
That odd, fluttery sensation caught at her breath. She didn’t know whether she was relieved or sorry to see Mrs. Garrow and Basil walking toward them.
She greeted them amiably. “I hope you have settled in and are none the worse for our adventures yesterday! I’m sorry I did not come down to dinner. I lay down for a nap and slept right through until morning.”
Mrs. Garrow peered at her. “Ah, Lady Meg. The likeness between you and your sister is flabbergasting!”