by Sheila Walsh
A need to assert herself was struggling for supremacy against her by now natural instinct not to upset him, fuelled by the growing suspicion that he was seeking to manipulate her.
‘And do you mean to pick my husband for me, also?’ she asked with deceptive meekness.
‘No need,’ said his lordship complacently. ‘Y’re a sensible girl.’ His glance flicked to Benedict. ‘I am confident you’ll choose wisely.’
He was matchmaking, Theo realised with sudden horror! The old rogue thought he was being subtle, but she could have little doubt of his intentions. And Benedict? Was all this being arranged with his connivance? He was being suspiciously bland about the whole thing. Oh, it was iniquitous! She began to know exactly how her father must have felt.
‘I also intend to leave this house to you in my Will,’ continued Lord Radlett, blithely unaware of the fury fulminating in his beloved grandchild’s breast.
‘No! Oh, Grandpa, pray don’t go on!’
She didn’t care that they were all looking at her. She crossed swiftly to the bed and sat down beside him, so that it was just the two of them, her hand in his.
‘Please listen to me, because what I want should be important, too,’ she pleaded. ‘I believe I know why you are doing what you are doing, but really you mustn’t. It isn’t at all necessary, and you cannot deprive Beau and everyone else of what is their due simply to assuage your conscience, you know!’
‘Don’t be impertinent!’
‘I don’t mean to be, but you are putting me in an impossible position. Beau is your heir …’
‘Beau will get his due,’ he said harshly. ‘The house in Grosvenor Square will be his, and a fine property in Warwickshire that will provide a more than adequate income. Give him more, and he’ll only squander it on gambling. He’ll get the family sapphires, too ‒ more’s the pity. I’d have liked you to have those. If I know Beau, he’ll pledge ’em within a week ‒ or have ’em copied in paste and sell ’em!’
‘But what about everyone else?’ she persisted doggedly. ‘What about Selina?’
‘Not your concern, miss!’ he snapped discouragingly.
But she was not to be put off. ‘Grandpa ‒ you do mean to provide for Selina? Oh, it would be too unjust if you did not!’
He snatched his hand away, and she saw that it trembled. ‘I’ll not be preached at by a chit of a girl ‒ not even you, m’girl! I shall do as I see fit!’
‘Let be, Theo.’
Benedict had come up behind her. His voice was quiet, but more than usually incisive.
‘Oh, but …’
His hands came down hard on her shoulders and he lifted her bodily to her feet.
‘I said enough!’
She twisted her head round, her eyes blazing into his. ‘How dare you presume to tell me what to do! You are too free with your advice, cousin.’
‘And you are allowing emotion to cloud your reasoning,’ he returned with maddening calm. ‘Where is your excellent common sense, sweet coz?’
A moment more she glared at him ‒ and then, reluctantly, uttered an abrupt little laugh. ‘Oh, well!’ she said.
Lord Radlett watched the exchange with interest ‒ and what he saw did not displease him. In better humour once more, he said, ‘That’s all settled, then. Cartwright has only to finish drawing up the papers ‒ damned long-winded creatures, lawyers ‒ and we shall be right and tight.’
Mr Cartwright looked pained, and suggested that it might be a help if he could work quietly somewhere. Theo, resigned for the present, though by no means defeated, took pity on him and said that she would find him a quiet place.
But Lord Radlett hadn’t quite finished with her. ‘Let Benedict do it,’ he said. ‘I have one more small piece of news for you.’
Her heart sank as he glanced pointedly at the other two and waited for them to leave the room.
‘Now, then.’ He reached into his pocket with the air of one about to bestow a great treat. ‘I want you to read this, if you please.’
Theo took it from him, made suspicious by all that had gone before. She read it at first without taking in the sense of it. Then she read it again: It would give me the greatest pleasure to have your grand-daughter to stay with me for a few weeks. I confess I am quite longing to see John’s child. He was, as you know, ever a favourite with me, and now that all my own girls are married I find myself very much at a loose end …
There was much more in similar vein. She looked up at last, feeling rather dazed. ‘Who is Drusilla?’
‘The Duchess of Bury … an old friend of mine,’ he said. ‘You will like her.’
‘Will I?’ Theo gave him a measuring look. ‘How very obliging of your Duchess to extend me an invitation just at this particular moment! I wonder how she came to know I was here?’
He looked at her with bright appreciative eyes. ‘I wrote to tell her, of course. Benedict took the letter ‒ brought the reply back with him. Sounds quite keen, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Oh, really, Grandpa! She could hardly refuse you.’
‘Gammon! Drusilla ain’t like that! And it would be just the thing for you … Season coming up. Time you saw a bit of life beyond these four walls … and I can’t take you m’self.’
For the life of her, she couldn’t be angry with him this time. She sensed that he desperately wanted to show his appreciation to her in a positive way, and she had to admit that the idea appealed to her.
She folded the letter and waved it under his nose. ‘You are a wicked old man!’ she said. ‘I suppose you reckon that if you persist long enough, I shall tire of arguing ‒ like water wearing away a stone!’
‘Something like that,’ he admitted with a chuckle. And then, more seriously, ‘But you’ll go? I would like you to enjoy yourself. Not much gaiety in your life of late … and now that Gorton is recovered …’
‘You mustn’t expect too much of Gorton, Grandpa,’ Theo said anxiously. ‘He’ll never be quite the man he was, you know.’
‘Teh! You leave Gorton to me, child. We understand one another.’
Benedict put his head round the door. ‘I’ve put Cartwright in the yellow saloon.’ He looked from one to the other. ‘I listened outside for sounds of violence before venturing in.’
‘Y’re an irreverent pair, the two of you,’ grumbled his lordship without heat.
Benedict laughed. ‘I take it you’ve won?’ And then, quizzically to Theo, ‘You disappoint me, sweet coz … to cave in without a fight!’
‘I may yet come about,’ she said valiantly. Her eyes sparkled suddenly. ‘But London would be fun!’
‘By the way, sir, while I was in London I encountered a distant relation of ours ‒ or so he claimed to be. A Comte de Varron?’
‘Impossible,’ said Lord Radlett with surprising vehemence. ‘The Comte and his family perished during the Terror.’
‘Are you sure that no one survived? A child, perhaps?’ Benedict suggested. ‘This man is about forty, so he would have been a boy of fifteen years or so at that time.’
‘I tell you they butchered the whole family,’ said the Viscount harshly. ‘I should know. I was there.’
‘Grandpa!’ Theo stared, half appalled, half fascinated. ‘You don’t mean you actually saw them guillotined?’
‘Haven’t thought about it for years now,’ he said obliquely. ‘Damnable affair. Came devilish close to getting my own head cut off! I’d gone to try to get them out, d’ye see … another twenty-four hours and we’d have done it, too.’ His voice dropped. ‘Helen was so beautiful, even more beautiful than your grandmother … she was her sister.’
‘So Madame de Varron was English,’ said Theo. ‘How dreadful!’
‘Well, this present Comte is quite definitely French ‒ and something of a philanderer, I fancy,’ drawled Benedict. ‘He was most anxious to contact you, sir.’
‘I’ll have no truck with any damned impostor!’ It may have been a trick of the light, but Theo thought that a flicker of alarm showed m
omentarily in her grandfather’s eyes. ‘I hope you didn’t give the fellow any encouragement? I give you fair warning, I won’t meet him if he does come here!’
Benedict raised one eyebrow. ‘Oh, he won’t do that. I convinced him that you were much too ill to receive anyone at present. He may prove persistent, however. He is endeavouring to trace a family heirloom … La Cascade Diamant. Some kind of diamond necklace; quite priceless, so the Comte seemed to think, but I expect if you knew the family so well, you must remember it.’ He waited for some reaction from his lordship, and getting none, added, ‘It vanished apparently at the time of the tragedy and hasn’t been heard of since.’
‘Well, what more d’you expect ‒ with the canaille looting everywhere?’ growled the old man. ‘Probably got chopped into little pieces!’
‘I expect you’re right,’ Benedict said. ‘I just wondered, as you were there … whether you might have some idea what became of it.’
‘None whatever,’ snapped his lordship. ‘And if I had, you wouldn’t catch me telling some greedy, hoaxing jackanapes!’ He shut his eyes. ‘Now I’m tired. You may go away, both of you.’
‘Well,’ said Benedict, as he walked downstairs with Theo. ‘What was all that about, I wonder?’
‘You thought he was being evasive, too?’ Theo said. ‘It is certainly very odd. I do remember Papa once telling me that his father used to go to France quite often after his mother’s death, though I had no idea he was actually there at the time of the Revolution!’ Her cousin was quietly thoughtful. She glanced at him. ‘Oh, but … you don’t think he really does know something about the necklace?’
‘I don’t think anything at present,’ he said equivocally. ‘But I feel that a few enquiries might be in order. What I confess does worry me is that if the Comte pursues his quest with his present zeal, he will sooner or later meet up with Beau, who might be more than a little interested on his own account.’
Theo, however, had more important things on her mind than elusive diamond necklaces.
‘About the money …’ she began.
Benedict stopped in his tracks and turned her to face him. ‘Let the old man do things his way, Theo. It’s how he wants it.’ And when she again protested that she couldn’t take so much, ‘He can afford it, believe me. If you’re afraid that it smacks of payment for services rendered’ ‒ she moved under his hands ‒ ‘then I can set your mind at ease. He had already had papers drawn up along similar lines before he even met you.’
‘Truly?’ She looked steadily into his eyes.
He shook her slightly. ‘Would I lie to you?’
I wish I knew, she thought, her throat tight.
‘You remember when Cartwright came down here ‒ oh, well before Christmas ‒ before you were even on good terms with your grandfather? Well, most of it had already been decided then. Truly.’ He looked quizzical. ‘I told you right at the start that his dislike of Beau outweighed all else.’
‘And the visit to London? The extremely generous allowance?’
Benedict took her arm and they began walking again. ‘Oh, that is certainly a demonstration of his growing fondness for you ‒ a way of saying thank you, if you like. You surely don’t begrudge him that?’
She lifted her shoulders in a faint sigh. ‘It would be churlish indeed to do so. But he is making it very difficult for me to return home to Philadelphia.’
His fingers tightened on her arm. He looked down swiftly. ‘Do you then wish to? I confess we all rather hoped you had come to think of this as home.’
‘We?’
His eyes were unreadable. ‘Well, your grandfather certainly believes it.’ He paused, before saying with soft irony, ‘And I should naturally be desolated were you to leave.’
‘Would you?’ She wondered again about his part in the scheme of things. He had certainly made himself indispensable to her grandfather, yet one would not think altruism to be a facet of his character. Could a scapegrace youth change so much? It seemed unlikely, so what was he hoping to gain? A fortune by way of a rich bride, belike, she thought, recalling the fleeting impression she had received in her grandfather’s room. Yes, that would fit the character much better. She shied away from the thought, and turned her attention elsewhere.
‘I don’t know how I am going to break the news to Selina,’ she confessed. ‘I would not blame her if she succumbed to hysterics on the spot!’
‘I shouldn’t worry about her,’ Benedict said with an off-handedness that made her indignant. ‘She wouldn’t concern herself about you.’
‘As if that made it any better!’ she cried.
‘Well, then,’ he said. ‘I repeat, don’t worry about her. His lordship hasn’t quite finished playing God yet.’ Further than that he would not be drawn, and Theo was left with her dilemma. With unaccustomed cowardice she kept to her room for the remainder of the afternoon, but when dinner time drew near she knew that she must face Selina, who would be curious about the events of the afternoon. Since no miracle solution had revealed itself, she was resigned to the prospect of a stormy scene.
When she entered the library, however, she found Selina sitting on the sofa beneath the censorious gaze of the Cavalier surrounded by a sheaf of closely written documents which spilled out over the seat. Benedict and Aubrey stood close by, and there was such a curious atmosphere that she at once feared the worst.
‘What has happened?’ she cried, running forward.
‘The old codger’s gone queer in his attic, that’s what!’ said Aubrey as his mama raised dazed eyes to Theo and thrust at her the letter she held clutched in her hand.
I stand accused of dealing less than adequately with you and your son. While refuting the charge absolutely, I have no wish to compel to remain under my roof one who is so glaringly unappreciative of my generosity. Therefore, please find herewith enclosed the lease of a small property in Upper Wimpole Street made over in your name together with an agreement that you shall be paid six hundred pounds a year, except in the event of your remarrying, at which time all monies will cease. With this gift I consider all obligations towards you to be fully discharged.
Lord Radlett’s signature was shaky, but had been executed with a defiant flourish.
Theo looked up, and encountered a sardonic smile from Benedict.
‘What did I tell you, coz?’ he said.
Chapter Eight
London was all and more than Theo had hoped for. She had been loath to leave Shallowford when the time came, for the air had just taken on that first velvety mildness, the poplars and chestnut trees were newly tipped with green, and the rooks were courting noisily in the elm tops while primroses starred the grass beneath.
But London held an equal magic. Here too were trees, set in great sweeping parks; elegant rows of terraced houses and even more elegant secluded squares where gracious mansions stood in discreet splendour. And in Grosvenor Square, almost opposite the unoccupied town residence of Lord Radlett, lived the Duchess of Bury.
Any qualms Theo had entertained about meeting the Duchess were dispelled the instant she and Benedict were announced. No one could have been less formidable than the petite pretty lady who rose from a sofa near the window and hurried forward, hands outstretched in welcome, her musical voice full of pleasure as she declared that she would have known her anywhere for her father’s daughter.
Benedict too was not forgotten in the enthusiastic warmth of her greeting.
‘Do come along and sit down, both of you.’
Her skirts rustled gently as she led them across a vast expanse of carpet, the like of which Theo had never seen; from its exquisite texture and colouring she supposed it must be Persian. All the hangings and upholstery in the room were of cream and gold, a luxurious background with which her hostess harmonised so admirably that Theo wondered in awed amusement whether the effect was accidental or deliberate.
At all events it made her own sensible brown twill travelling dress seem indescribably dowdy by comparison. But not by so much
as a flicker of an eye did her hostess allow her to suspect that she found it so.
‘Now, tell me first of all how your poor grandfather does.’
Theo said that he was very much better than they could have hoped for, but her tone was unconsciously pensive, so that her grace was moved to make encouraging protestations. Theo knew that Benedict was looking at her curiously, but she could not put into words her quite illogical unease as she had bidden her grandfather farewell; illogical because he was so much better, the hands gripping hers no longer shook, and he now spent a good part of the day up and dressed and in the sitting room which adjoined his bedchamber.
‘I shall write,’ she had said with sudden urgency, bending to kiss the now slack folds of his cheek. And she had made Gorton promise that he would let her know if anything untoward happened; not, she had added hastily, as much to convince herself as him, that anything would.
‘I cannot tell you how overjoyed I was to receive your grandfather’s letter, my dear,’ the Duchess was chattering on. ‘I had been feeling thoroughly moped before it arrived.’
‘It is more than kind of you to have me,’ Theo said.
‘Nonsense, child! It is you who are doing me the kindness.’ She sighed, though her eyes twinkled. ‘You can have no idea how one’s spirits are sunk by the realisation that with all of one’s chicks having flown the nest, nothing is left to one but to dwindle as graciously as may be contrived into old age!’
This was so patently a nonsense that Theo and Benedict exchanged amused glances and said so in chorus.
The eyes twinkled ever more appreciatively. ‘Well, perhaps not quite yet! Especially now that you have come, my dear Theo ‒ I may call you Theo, may I not?’ And upon receiving eager assent: ‘We shall have so many delightful things to plan ‒ dressmakers to consult …’
It was on the tip of Theo’s tongue to say that she had already made several dresses in anticipation of her visit, but a few moments in the Duchess’s company had served to convince her of the total inadequacy of her poor efforts. Theo, not by nature extravagant, began to think she might very easily grow to enjoy herself for a while at least.
