Madcap Miss by Joan Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

good lumpy batch of gruel, but they have no talent with coffee. How are you on the Bible, Doll? ”
    “ Not terribly well versed. Is Doll a dab at it? ”
    “ Nope. Try if you can beguile her with other things. You ride — get her into stories of her riding days. She ’ s as proud as a queen of her prowess in the field. ” Entering the stable, he said, “ Now, let us see what John had in the way of horseflesh. ”
    The stalls were mostly empty, save for his own carriage horses. John Brougham had not been much younger than his sister. What he rode on those rare occasions when he rode at all was an ancient nag that should have been sent to the pound years ago.
    “ Good God! Is that what I am expected to make my rounds on? I shall be a week completing the circuit. ”
    Grace laughed to see the elegant Lord Whewett throw his leg over such a jade. “ You would do better to go on foot. ”
    “ Let us hope the inn has something for hire. Well, I ’ moff, Augusta. Run along, and be nice to Grandma. ”
    “ Yes, Papa. ” She made a curtsy for the benefit of the few stableboys who gaped with interest at the visitors.
    Grace returned to the house at a lagging gait, dreading the ordeal before her. As Whewett had suggested, Lady Healy was easily distracted from the Bible to boast of her skill in the saddle instead. She told tales, surely exaggerated, of hunting while hardly out of pinafores, of jumping and riding and other feats of unusual prowess. From this she went on to give advice on fomenting a wounded leg, curing colic, and such other matters as might be new to a child but were as familiar as an old ballad to Miss Farnsworth.
    They took lunch together, another insufficient meal, in Grace ’ s opinion. At its conclusion, Lady Healy announced she always took a nap in the afternoon and suggested Gussie do the same. She did not insist, however, and the time was spent much more gainfully in scouring the house for candles to lighten her room at night, books to help pass those three or four hours of confinement, and most of all, food.
    Cook ’ s presence in the kitchen made household food difficult to obtain. Apples were garnered from the orchard to augment the bonbons. At four, Lady Healy returned belowstairs, bearing a brown bag.
    “ I have a little present for you, Augusta. ”
    “ How nice, Grandma! ” Grace smiled.
    The bag was opened to reveal a skipping rope with spindle handles. The toy looked old enough to be an antique. “ My own skipping rope, used by me when I was a child, ” Grandma said, then stood waiting for gratitude.
    “ Thank you, ” Grace said, trying to hide her disappointment.
    “ I knew you would be bored to flinders here. I remember my youth. Take it out in the garden and play. I shan ’ t go out; the sun gives me a headache. I ’ ll watch from the window. I like to see the kiddies play. ”
    “ Yes, Grandmama. ” Grace opened the French doors into the garden, trailing the rope behind her. She dutifully skipped, with Lady Healy smiling approval, till she was exhausted from the demanding game.
    As soon as she stopped, Grandma tapped sharply on the glass to indicate she should continue. The gnarled hands, whirling in circles, suggested that the pace ought to be accelerated. It was impossible.
    Grace skipped on, panting, her throat aching from dryness. At last she spotted Whewett returning from his rounds and looking as fagged as she felt herself. He stared in consternation to see what she was being forced into. She used his arrival as an excuse to stop.
    “ Poor Gussie! How did you get drawn into this cruel and unusual punishment? ” he asked, but there was no ignoring the laughter in his voice. His sympathy was mixed with amusement, to see Miss Farnsworth with the perspiration standing in beads on her brow while she gasped for breath.
    “ A present from Grandmama ... watching to see I make good use of it... at the window. ” Her breath gave out, and she had to wait to recover it. “