The horses started. The crowd surged to its feet, including everyone in the Mackenzie box, and the noise began. Ian was the only one who didn’t cheer on the horses, but he held his hands ready to clap when his wife did. He still didn’t entirely understand the concept of cheering and clapping, but he’d learned to mimic, so others would not point out his eccentricities. Beth cued him these days, her gentle guidance helping him over many a rough moment.
Cameron’s horse, Night-Blooming Jasmine, running in the mare’s race, easily pulled ahead of the others. Jasmine ran as though she could do this all day, then perhaps have a romp in the pasture afterward before going home to enjoy a good grooming. The other horses sprinted to catch up to her, but Jasmine leisurely galloped around the track, pulling even farther ahead in the last furlong. She finished first by a long measure.
The Mackenzie box exploded with noise, Daniel and Mac standing on the railings and shouting the loudest. Ian abandoned clapping to put his arm around Beth and give her a hard squeeze. Beth was more important to him than a horse winning a race.
“I had no doubt,” Ainsley said, smiling. “Jaz is a wonderful horse.” She credited Jasmine with helping her and Cameron through their rough courtship.
“An excellent win.” Gil abandoned propriety to slide his arm around Louisa’s waist. “A little something to feather our nest, eh?”
Isabella, standing on Louisa’s other side, gave Gil a formidable frown. Gil assumed she was unhappy about the arm around Louisa’s waist, and withdrew, sending Isabella an apologetic grin.
“I’m very thirsty,” Isabella announced. “Louisa, will you accompany me to the tea tent?”
Mac turned around to her. “No need to bestir yourself, my love. Danny and I will rush down and procure for you anything you wish. You too, Louisa; ladies.”
Isabella’s cold look dissolved into a smile. She touched Mac’s face, the love in her eyes beautiful to see. “No thank you, Mac. I am making an excuse to take a stroll and speak to my sister. We’re going to gab like mindless females.”
Mac raised his hands. “Far be it from me to stand in the way of that.”
“Beth, come with us,” Louisa said quickly. Isabella was going to scold, she knew it, but Louisa might avoid the worst of it if Beth came along to mitigate.
“If it’s all the same, I’d rather not.” Beth fanned herself. She didn’t look tired, but she also didn’t like to rush about too much these days.
“I’ll come,” Ainsley said. She gave Gil a smile when he bowed and helped her across the box to where Louisa and Isabella waited. “Eleanor will make certain you aren’t abandoned, Mr. Franklin.”
“Indeed.” Eleanor moved from her seat and to the one next to Gil. “We will have ever so much to talk about, now that you want to become part of the family.”
Hart sent his wife a suspicious glance, and Louisa seconded it. Whenever Eleanor got that mischievous look in her eyes, there was no telling what she’d say or do. Fortunately Hart would be near to quell her if necessary—or to try to quell her, at least. The only person who didn’t tremble and obey the mighty Hart the instant he growled was Eleanor.
Isabella pulled Louisa and Ainsley away, and the three of them left the box to pick their way down the stairs to the tea tents below. Louisa reflected that she never wanted to see another tea tent in her life, but Isabella had her arm firmly through Louisa’s, and there was nothing for it but to follow and find out what she wanted.
The tea tent they reached was full, ladies in their finest gowns and beautiful hats greeting each other as though it hadn’t been only a day or two since they’d been together in London. They chatted while filling their plates with pastries, finger sandwiches, petit fours, scones and clotted cream.
As Louisa walked in with Isabella on one side, Ainsley on the other, ladies paused, ceased talking, watched. They didn’t quite cut Louisa, but they didn’t greet her openly either.
Louisa heard the whispers begin as Isabella escorted her to the food tables. “Gilbert Franklin actually proposed to her. Would he marry her if he thought her a poisoner, do you think?” “All I say is, he’d better be careful when he drinks his morning tea.” Titters. Laughter.
Izzy said nothing to anyone, and kept Louisa close. Ainsley, on the other hand, greeted ladies and waved to friends, behaving as though no one openly and rudely discussed Louisa.
Isabella stayed with Louisa as they loaded their plates. Louisa lifted a profiterole onto a dainty flowered plate and flashed back to holding a similar plate with a cream puff at Mrs. Leigh-Waters’ party. She’d been looking at the profiterole when Hargate had started to choke and gasp. She shivered.
Ladies who seemed to decide they didn’t want to risk offending Ainsley and Isabella, the wives of the influential Mackenzies, ventured to engage them in conversation, and Louisa was left relatively alone.
Louisa wondered anew why Isabella had brought her down here. To help her overcome her fear of tea tents? Or to make her face the ladies who stared at her?
She took a determined sip of tea. Then Louisa set down her cup, snatched her pastry from her plate, and took a large bite.
Cream slithered out of the soft crust and smeared across her mouth. Of course it did. Louisa reached for a handkerchief and found Isabella no longer by her side. Ainsley either. They had become swallowed by friends and acquaintances, absorbed into the chattering mass.
Louisa did see Lloyd Fellows look into the tea tent, lock his gaze to her, give her the barest nod, and then turn away.