In fact, Lady Mardham knew. She encountered Sir Marcus shortly after his declaration, and he revealed, without actually saying he had asked, and been rejected, that he had been ‘hoping for too much in a certain direction’. It had put Lady Mardham on the spot, because she could neither console him with the thought that ‘there were other fish in the sea’, having waved her daughter as a ‘fish’, nor tell him, being a polite hostess, that he had ruined his own chances. She was honest enough to admit that was the case. Whenever she had seen him with Celia his attentiveness had been suffocating, and his attitude one of ‘I know best in all things’. It was not surprising poor Celia had turned him down, in the circumstances. Lady Mardham was actually more annoyed with him than her daughter.
It was a nasty shock for Celia when her Mama encountered her in the hall, and almost dragged her into the Small Saloon, opening the conversation with the phrase ‘I understand, my poor child.’
‘Mama?’
‘Sir Marcus. I blame him, yes, I do. Had he set about it like a man of sense … but there. No point in crying over spilt milk. What is done is done, and, looking at it calmly, he has proved himself unsuitable.’
Celia now understood, but her brain reeled. She wondered if Sir Marcus had gone to her Mama and complained about her refusal. She would not put it past him.
‘We have to be positive, however,’ continued Mama. ‘There is still a chance that you will get the inheritance, and I quite see that he is much more likely to appeal to a young girl. He has pretty manners, and is prepossessing, in a lanky sort of way. You will just have to do all you can, my dear.’
‘“He”, Mama?’ Celia knew, but feigned ignorance. It might be safer.
‘Levedale, of course. What other reason might he have to teach you to drive and go to all the trouble with the carriage and ponies, if he was not interested, at the very least?’
‘He is a thoughtful gentleman,’ offered Celia, by means of an explanation of his behaviour.
‘He is a man. A “thoughtful gentleman” is one who warns one of the puddle as one descends from a carriage, not one who gives up hours of his time to sit with his knees about his ears in a vehicle I am almost ashamed we own, even for the use of the staff.’
Looked at in this way, Lord Levedale’s actions did seem more particular, but Mama was obviously forgetting Marianne.
‘Would you have me catch him in a net, like one of the trout they brought back?’
‘I have often thought,’ mused Lady Mardham, ‘that it would actually be so much easier if one could.’
Celia laughed, just a little hysterically, because Mama was not speaking entirely in jest.
‘Then I had best go and dress for my lesson, Mama, and conceal the landing net beneath my pelisse.’
*
Celia tried to look as if her morning had been nothing out of the ordinary when Lord Levedale gave her his arm as they walked out of the door. The little pony cart, with Pom between the shafts, stood in front of the house, awaiting their pleasure.
‘May we go and visit my grandmother at the Dower House this morning, sir? If we take the lanes there and come back across the park it will be a decent run.’ Celia thought she might just manage not to reveal her jumbled thoughts if part of the lesson time was taken up at the Dower House.
‘Miss Mardham, behold merely the tutor, not the navigator. You know the locality and I do not.’ Lord Levedale smiled, and assisted her up into the pony cart. ‘Although I did say to your Father that we would be within the bounds of the park, for propriety’s sake, and we are thus breaking the rules.’
‘The lanes of which I speak are most unfrequented, and if by chance we encounter a flock of sheep and a shepherd, well, we brazen it out.’
‘Behold me brazen, ma’am, and I bow to your knowledge of little-used thoroughfares.’ He was grinning. He had no reason to feel in improved spirits, but somehow he did.
‘How very trusting of you, my lord.’ She laughed, and the groom at the pony’s head looked up, not having heard her do so for so very long. ‘I was glad to see at your first encounter that you refused to be overawed by my Grandmama. She is very autocratic, but in fact dislikes what she terms “human rugs”, those who let others “walk all over them”.’
‘I shall be very brave once more, ma’am, however frightening your relative might be. Behold, I do not shake at all, look.’ He held out his gloved hands, and then made them tremble very theatrically. ‘Oh dear, there goes my heroic status.’
‘My lord, fear not. I think teaching me to drive, and risking me toppling you into a ditch, is heroic enough.’
‘At no stage have you threatened to do so, though there was that incident with the gateway. I would have to say that, overall, a more able pupil one could not wish to find. It is only a pity that circumstance means you really ought not to drive a high perch phaeton, for you would manage a pair very well, and look splendid tooling it about the countryside.’
‘This is more practical, and … how I look is no longer of any consequence.’ The smile became lopsided, as she requested the groom to stand away from the pony’s head and she told Pom to ‘walk on’.
For a few minutes there was silence. Miss Mardham concentrated upon her driving, and his lordship simply did not know what he might say. Telling her that he thought her the most beautiful of creatures, however true, could easily be taken as cruel falsehood, or presuming too much.
The clouds were building in the west, and by the afternoon it would be stultifying, but at the moment there was just breeze enough to play with the wide brim of Miss Mardham’s fetching straw hat and the scrap of veiling that kept any glare from her eyes. He stole glances at her profile as often as he might without discovery. Her lips were slightly parted, her brows drawn together a little in concentration as she negotiated a bend and passed a farm cart. When she forgot her infirmity her whole being changed, and he could see the young woman that would have been, that still could be, if only she had the confidence that came from being cherished and loved. He loved her, he was certain of it, and perhaps it was that certainty which cheered him this morning. He loved her, wanted to cherish her, but everything was in a damned muddle.
He had made his mind up with regards to the family estates, and had determined to write to his father, but that was only a part of the problem. He still had to sort out matters with Miss Burton, and had no idea how to begin. He had also realised that his own financial situation, whilst sound, was not one where he was wallowing in capital. He had not had an allowance from his parent in several years, Lord Curborough having decided that he could live off the portion left to him at his Mama’s demise and the small property in Devon, and so his sire’s indebtedness had not affected him in that way. He could live off his income, for his tastes were not extravagant, but it had struck him that going before Lord Mardham and offering for his daughter’s hand with little more than five thousand a year would not make his suit instantly appealing. The idea that receiving any offer for Celia’s hand might be greeted with boundless relief did not occur to him.
The rhythmic sound of shod hooves trotting along at a smart pace, filled Celia with a disproportionate degree of delight. She felt free, and the presence of Lord Levedale at her side, so close that sometimes as they turned a corner they came into contact, lifted her spirits even higher. Sir Marcus was forgotten.
‘I fear Grandmama will decry this as a mediocre vehicle, but I could not be more pleased with it, you know.’
‘It would be the better for a new livery, but it is neat enough, Miss Mardham, I assure you, on a temporary basis.’
‘Yes, but Grandmama only ever goes out and about in a large old carriage with a team of four, regardless of the length of her journey. She will sniff at having a single pony.’
‘I think she will be very impressed that you drive, Miss Mardham, and see that it is well suited to its purpose, and also safe. She would not want you driving something liable to topple over at the slightest inequality in the road.’
He laughed, and made his denial.
The Dower House was some four miles from Meysey by road, and approached by a short curving driveway that revealed the house quite suddenly. The pony cart drew up before the front of the house. Lord Levedale got down and, quite without thinking, offered up his hands to take Miss Mardham by the waist and lift her down. She blushed, and wavered for a moment, before setting her hands lightly on his shoulders and permitting him to do so. He then took her stick from its restraint and handed it to her, whilst also offering his arm as though he were a beau offering to take her for a walk in the park.
The Dowager Lady Mardham was not an openly demonstrative person, but she was not unfeeling. She had not made a scene when she had found her husband was being unfaithful to her with a Bath courtesan, even as she was carrying his heir, and had been publicly tolerant of his behaviour thereafter; she was fond of her son, though never unwilling to tell him where he fell short, and she was deeply attached to her grandchildren, especially Celia. The child had frequently stayed with her during the school holidays when her parents were, in old Lady Mardham’s words, ‘gallivanting’. Not even her ladyship’s long-serving maid knew how many tears had been shed when Celia, for whom she had the highest hopes, had suffered her life-threatening accident. Grandmama would not show pity, and some might have thought her comments bracing, but she always looked straight at her granddaughter, never fussed about her, and treated her like a normal girl.
When Chorley announced Celia and Lord Levedale, her ladyship, who had been nodding over some embroidery that was straining her eyes, looked up and gave that straight look.
The change in Celia took her quite by surprise. She had watched her bright and bubbly granddaughter become introverted and serious, but here was a girl much more like her old self. It did not take a woman as astute as Lady Mardham to see the reason. She had wondered, the first time they had come to see her, and now there was little doubt at all. The elderly lady surveyed Lord Levedale with her hawklike eyes, and saw his lips twitch. So he knew he was under scrutiny, did he? Impudent rascal.
‘I have driven all the way here, Grandmama, and not cast Lord Levedale into a single ditch.’ Celia sounded confident again.
‘Driven? Yourself?’
‘Yes, Grandmama. Lord Levedale has been teaching me, and Papa has ordered a low phaeton, from Gloucester and specially designed, for my birthday.’
‘Has he, indeed. And you are going to tell me that my son, your father, who could not draw a daisy without it looking like an oak tree, spent hours upon this “design”?’
‘No, no, Grandmama. Lord Levedale has designed it.’
‘Really?’ Lady Mardham stared at the viscount. ‘So, young man, having designed a phaeton, you have been junketing about the countryside teaching my granddaughter how to drive. Why?’
The old woman was certainly direct. Lord Levedale did not as much as blink, but gave her stare for stare.
‘Because, ma’am, many of the freedoms of movement we take for granted have been tragically lost to her, and it is a way in which she can reclaim her rightful independence.’
‘Hmmm, sounds very noble. Are you very noble?’
‘I hope, ma’am, that I am a decent sort of fellow. I claim no great nobility of character, however, for that would mark me as puffed up in my own esteem, and it would also imply that teaching Miss Mardham has been some form of chore, which it has not.’
It was Lady Mardham’s turn to hide a smile.
‘Grandmama, if you come to the window you can see the pony cart in which I drove here.’ Celia thought exposing Lord Levedale to too much interrogation was a poor recompense for his kindness.
‘Pony cart? What sort of vehicle is that for a young lady? More suited to a feckless curate.’ Grandmama was not impressed.
‘It is a safe sort of vehicle, and one into which Miss Mardham may climb without excessive difficulty, since it is one provided with two mounting steps,’ Lord Levedale interjected before Miss Mardham could respond, and threw her a smiling glance. It was very brief, but Lady Mardham saw all that it contained. It confirmed her suspicions and delighted her, for, like everyone else, she had assumed Celia stood no chance of receiving an offer, and however poor her eyesight had become, she could still tell a man in love. She walked, slowly, but very erect, to the window, where she could see Pom being made a fuss of by the stable lad.
‘Good Heavens! You were on a public road in that contraption?’ Her eyes widened.
‘We did but pass a farm cart, ma’am, and no doubt the farmer thought we were locals on the way to … somewhere.’ Lord Levedale made it sound unimportant.
‘Tell me, Lord Levedale, have you seen many “locals” in driving coats with four capes?’ Her ladyship raised a sceptical eyebrow.
‘Er, no, ma’am, I have not.’ He had the grace to smile, wryly. ‘You have me there.’
‘Of course I do. The quicker this fancy vehicle is purchased, and decent cattle to pull it, the better. Look at that pony.’
They looked at Pom, for whom they had developed a soft spot, since to each he meant the time they had alone together.
‘He is a nice pony, Grandmama.’
‘He is fat.’
‘Not as fat as he was before the lessons, Lady Mardham.’
‘Stop trying to be clever, young man.’ The old lady turned to Celia. ‘So what are you going to do when you can take yourself about the shire at whim, miss?’
‘I am coming to visit you, most frequently, Grandmama.’
‘Hmmm, do not come over meek as a nun’s hen to me, Celia. What is the real reason for these lessons.’
‘To enable me to be free; to be able to move without a hobble, and still be in control; to be with horses again; to get out in the fresh air and … everything.’
‘Comprehensive, I grant you.’ Lady Mardham’s voice softened. ‘You have coped very well, child. You deserve some happiness.’
Lord Levedale wondered if the sagacious old lady was talking about driving at all, but she did not look at him, or indicate it by as much as the movement of a muscle. Lady Mardham was far too clever for that.
Celia, still imagining trotting about in the fresh air, took the statement at face value.
‘I have never been one who thought that happiness was dealt out on the basis of deserving it. That is a good thing, since I would otherwise have wondered what heinous crimes I had inadvertently committed to deserve my fate. There are bad people who live long and seemingly happy lives being bad, and good people whose lives are a succession of disasters. The vicar may have an explanation for it, but I simply accept that it is so.’
‘Which is rather a lot of philosophy for a casual visit,’ remarked Lord Levedale, and once again their eyes met, and held.
Grandmama decided that if Celia was going to ‘visit frequently’ it would not long be from the other side of the park.
*
Upon the return journey Celia was rather quieter, though being within the park she had no reason to be concentrating harder upon her driving.
‘A penny for them, Miss Mardham.’ Lord Levedale looked at her. It was a pleasant thing to do.
‘Oh, I was just thinking what a strange day it was, sir.’
‘And we have not as yet gone much past noon. This implies either that you have found driving to be strange or … I am prying, and I ought not to do so. My apologies.’
‘It is not the driving, my lord. Just that something particular happened … earlier.’
‘He made you an offer, did he?’ Lord Levedale sounded quite calm. Had she accepted, this morning would have felt quite different.
Celia was so surprised that she dropped her hands, and Pom obediently, but with some reluctance, broke into a canter.
‘Look to your horse, Miss Mardham,’ recommended Lord Levedale, evenly.
‘But how could you know?’ Celia brought Pom back to the trot.
‘My dear Miss Mardham, I make no claim whatsoever to understand the fair sex, but I am quite able to “read” my own gender. Cotgrave has been working up to it from the moment he arrived.’ He paused, and then continued. ‘I cannot think why he believed you would suit each other.’
‘Nor can I, my lord.’ Celia responded with some vehemence, but then sighed. ‘He meant well, I am sure, but I would far rather end my days a spinster than Lady Cotgrave. I would be … suffocated.’
If only … in other circumstances he could have told her, here and now, that he would not ‘suffocate’ her, but help her to do more, be more. He would encourage her, not, as he knew Cotgrave would have done, swaddle her with restrictions. He had overhead Sir Marcus at the archery competition, and wondered what sort of chump he must be to see that he was actually driving Miss Mardham to do the opposite of what he wanted by telling her what she must do.
Instead he could only smile, and suggest that she did not resign herself to a life of knotting fringes just yet.
Chapter 14
Sir Marcus bore his rejection with a degree of calm disappointment. Celia Mardham was sufficiently similar to his much lamented wife that he had thought he might one day blend the two in his mind, despite Miss Mardham’s obvious disability. It appealed to him to be the guardian of injured femininity, and he saw it as an important role, but in the end he accepted that the young lady disliked his care and attention. He missed his wife, but more than that he missed a woman in his life, a woman to ‘be there’ for him, run his house so that his housekeeper and cook did not bother him from week to week, a woman with whom he might find comfort and a little pleasure in the connubial couch. He liked pretty women, but he would prefer a young wife of average looks to an older one with looks but experience. He wanted no woman who might compare him with another man.
Having come to Meysey with the intention of securing a bride, he now found himself faced with returning to his empty house with no prospect of a new bride, or looking at another choice. Miss Darwen frightened him, and Miss Burton was clearly far too beautiful to look at a man old enough to be her father. Miss Mardham ought to have seen sense and realised that in her state she could not look to attract a young suitor, but she refused to admit this as surely as she refused to accept the limitations of her disability.
Bless Thine Inheritance Page 15
