02 The Grand Tour by Patricia C Wrede & Caroline Stevermer

Author:Patricia C Wrede & Caroline Stevermer [Wrede, Patricia C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: f451, proofed, montag, Kate and Cecelia
Published: 2011-07-10T05:47:26+00:00

Venice

From the commonplace book of Lady Schofield

20 October 1817

Padua

At the Sign of the Dovecote

This is the first opportunity I've had in days to sit down and write properly. Now I can't remember what I was going to say. Something about Thomas and his absurd list of dukes, eligible and ineligible. Piers came in just then. Thomas and I were alone in the private parlor. Thomas was mending the fire and I was at the writing desk with this commonplace book. Piers murmured something to Thomas, and Thomas put the poker back among the fireplace tools with such force that the rack fell over.

To Piers, Thomas said, "Find Mr. and Mrs. Tarleton and let them know." Piers took himself off at once. To me, Thomas said, "Lord Mountjoy's staff is under orders to prepare his carriage to depart at dawn."

"Lord Mountjoy is leaving Milan?" I hesitated. "Will he take Theodore with him?"

"I don't see why not. No matter who goes with it, his carriage is leaving." Thomas looked pleased with himself as he added, "Piers said the staff were told to prepare for the road to Venice."

I was surprised. "Venice—not Vienna?"

"It's on the way, isn't it?" Thomas capped my inkwell for me. "No time for your scandalous memoirs now, my ink-stained darling. If Mountjoy leaves Milan, we leave Milan, too."

I let the remark about scandalous memoirs go for the moment as I regarded Thomas narrowly. "At dawn, no doubt."

"No doubt whatsoever." Sometimes Thomas's good cheer is very nearly too much to bear. "For Venice, no doubt?"

"Unless we change our minds," said Thomas. "You know how unpredictable we can be, careering about the countryside on our wedding journey."

"I do. There's always the chance we may need to break our journey and indulge in a ritual of some kind."

"I understand that's all the rage this season," Thomas assured me. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if Mountjoy stopped for a ritual or two himself."

"I'll have a look at Uncle Arthur's list, shall I?" I suggested.

"Excellent notion," said Thomas. "But first tell Reardon to pack."

I blush to confess it, but at first I found foreign travel exciting. Every detail fascinated me. I have grown weary of fascinating details. My feet are cold. I am tired of foreign food and foreign languages. To see a famous antiquity, be it renowned throughout the world, I would not trouble myself to do any more than rise from my chair, cross the room, and look out of a window.

I am not homesick. I do not long for the family I left behind. I'm just tired of traveling. I am heartily sick of Padua and I haven't been here above six hours.

The hour before dinner I spent knitting a letter to Lady Sylvia beside the parlor fire, listening to the industry of others. Even when we travel with maximum haste, our party requires attention. The brunt of the work is done by our servants. Despite that, the innkeepers invariably shout at their own unfortunate servants. I use the word shout to be polite.

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