Laura Matthews

by A Very Proper Widow

  Alvescot heard his elaborate sigh all the way out on the terrace. Twelve years! The earl could scarcely believe his ears. Surely Oldcastle could not have been courting the woman for that long. And yet, on second thought, considering the two people involved, he would not have sworn it wasn’t true. How the devil did Mrs. Damery put up with all these fools?

  The sound of chairs being shifted in the dining room recalled his attention and he followed the other gentlemen back into the Saloon where Louisa was already seated at the pianoforte in anticipation of their return. Coached by her mother, who regularly seemed to forget her daughter was over thirty years old, she meekly asked Alvescot if he had any preference in music.

  Mr. Oldcastle glared at this sign of preferentiality, and Alvescot demurred. “Please play what you like best, Miss Curtiss. I’m sure we’ll all enjoy it if it’s a favorite of yours.”

  Louisa took her time deciding. She thumbed her way through a bundle of music sheets, first setting aside one and then another. Finally her mother, exasperated, moved forward, forcefully removed the sheets from her daughter’s hands, tapped a finger against one resting on the pianoforte and said, “Play that.”

  And she did. To Alvescot’s surprise, she played extraordinarily well, as though every ounce of her talent was invested in her music. While she played, an idiotic half-smile sat firmly on her lips, no doubt trained into obedience by her mother. But the music she played was expressive and moving; her hands had a life of their own which imbued the strains with feeling one could not have guessed by looking at her face.

  “Admirable,” Alvescot pronounced when she concluded the piece. “I haven’t heard a better performance in months, Miss Curtiss. Would you honor us with another?”

  Louisa willingly acquiesced, looking pleased at his tribute. The reaction of the others varied from disdain to surprise. The captain, having no ear for music, barely tolerated any performance at all and sat scowling at poor Louisa, while Mr. Oldcastle, surprised but delighted at this commendation of his (sometime) beloved, thumped a foot in time, more or less, to the new piece she played. Edward slipped out onto the terrace as his mother cast significant glances at Vanessa, clearly indicating her immodest pride in her daughter’s accomplishment. Hortense and Mabel then talked to one another in insufficiently lowered voices.

  Not waiting for the song to be concluded, the captain stalked from the room. Alvescot shook his head in disbelief at this new evidence of rudeness, but could get no rise from Vanessa, who met his eyes with an impartial gaze of her own. If he expected her to be apologetic for her household, he was far off, he decided, though he felt sure she no more condoned this behavior than he did. Really, he must do something about her intolerable situation—if only for Frederick’s sake.

  This conclusion was reinforced several hours later, after three hands of boring, bickering-filled whist, when he himself escaped from the company to stroll about the grounds just as dusk was falling. The captain had not returned, nor had Edward, and a certain curiosity drew him to the spinney mentioned earlier. Its existence he remembered well, for it had been the spot in which he had sought solitude as a boy visitor to Cutsdean. The summer night was filled with the gentle sounds of insects and a warm breeze floating over the undulating landscape. Without precisely pinpointing why, he did not approach the spinney in a direct route from the house but circled around by the pebble walk which came from the south and skirted the stand of trees.

  As he approached, he knocked his pipe out onto the pebbles and stamped the smoldering tobacco until it was extinguished. And then, because his boots made a crunching sound on the pebbles, he left the path entirely some distance from the spinney to walk through the dew-adorned grass to the first of the trees. His silent approach was almost immediately rewarded by two male voices drifting to him on the night air.

  “Did you bring it?” Edward demanded.

  “Of course I brought it,” he heard the captain reply, angry, “but not the whole twenty-five. I won’t have you extort every shilling I own. I have to have at least five pounds to last the rest of the quarter.”

  “What for?” Edward scoffed. “Did you intend to buy yourself a rowing boat? I can just see you now on the lake in it.”

  The captain’s stubborn voice rose. “Twenty is all you get, you despicable cur.”

  “All right. All right. Just give it to me.” There was a brief pause before Edward continued. “I’m going to take your horse into Basingstoke since the curricle’s ruined. Don’t bluster at me, old man. I’m not likely to do the beast any damage. There’s a good moon tonight and your nag’s not likely to get up such a pace as to injure himself.” Edward’s amused laughter mingled with the captain’s ineffectual grumbles of discontent.

  Nothing further was said. Alvescot watched through the trees as one man headed toward the stables at a jaunty trot while the other ponderously made his way toward the house. Oh, wonderful, the earl thought, thoroughly annoyed. Blackmail, too. What more could Cutsdean provide in the way of unsavory intrigue? Returning to the house he entered through a side door, since he had no desire to encounter any of the inhabitants again that night, and made his way silently to his miniature bedchamber.

  * * * *

  Breakfast at Cutsdean was served for several hours, entirely at the whim of each of the household members. Vanessa always chose to have hers early because fewer of her guests were abroad then, though she invariably caught the captain finishing his meal. Without fail he would admonish her in the laxity of her arrangements.

  “Have them all up by seven, my dear Mrs. Damery. Set a rule that no one is to take breakfast after half past eight, and you would see a more productive group.”

  Vanessa had no idea what he thought they would produce. More crocheted shawls? More exotic menus? More tatting and lace-covered pillows? The reality was more likely to be more quarrels, more infringements on her time, and more demands on her resources. But she invariably smiled at him, shaking out her napkin and answering the footman’s questions on what she wished that morning. If the captain persisted, she would way, “I want each of you to be at liberty to arise when it suits you, Captain Lawrence. We have established hours for the other meals; breakfast should be a little more flexible, I think.”

  Though he never agreed with her, insisting that the kitchen staff had more work this way, he would soon be finished with his meal, and would bow politely to her before leaving on his brisk morning stroll. Everyone in the household knew better than to join him. He walked for miles without a pause, purposely (or so it seemed) choosing the roughest ground around over which to walk. And if he had a companion, he seldom spoke, unless asked a question, when he would give a monosyllabic response.

  But the morning after the earl’s arrival, Vanessa found only Alvescot in the Breakfast Parlor. There was evidence that the captain had been and gone, and Lord Alvescot was staring broodingly out the window when she entered. He promptly rose to greet her, a half-apologetic smile on his lips.

  “You’re an early riser, then,” he remarked, holding a chair for her.

  “Usually. It’s a habit more easily adhered to in the country than in town, I imagine. Have you gotten everything you wanted for breakfast?” She watched him reseat himself and nod. “If you like something special, you have only to ask. There are always cold joints, of course, but if you want particular hot dishes, mutton chops or rump-steaks, for instance, I should let Cook know in advance.”

  “No, I found the selection quite adequate, Mrs. Damery.” Sipping black coffee and watching her with rather guarded eyes, Alvescot waited until the footman had served her and withdrawn from the room. “I wanted to apologize for my rudeness yesterday. I sometimes speak hastily.” He made an expressive gesture with his wide shoulders. “I’m not a particularly patient man and I don’t understand how you put up with this bunch of parasites, but that isn’t my business, as you reminded me. I promise you my only concern is fulfilling the terms of Frederick’s trust and seeing that his son and daughter receiv
e their inheritances in good order. And please believe that I don’t for a moment doubt your intentions in serving that purpose.”

  Vanessa offered him a rueful smile as she buttered a warm muffin. “Thank you. I’m doing my utmost. Have you had a chance to go over the ledgers?”

  “Not as yet. I thought it would be more useful after I’d talked with your estate manager.”

  “Yes, of course. Mr. Burford will put himself at your disposal. I asked him to wait in the estate office for you this morning.” Vanessa stirred sugar into her tea, frowning slightly as she met Alvescot’s bland expression. “Perhaps I should tell you a little about him. He’s not quite what you might expect.”

  One dark brow lifted skeptically. “I have few expectations.”

  Vanessa laughed. “I know that, Lord Alvescot, but I’d prefer you didn’t embarrass yourself in dealing with Paul.”

  “Paul? Embarrass myself?” His incredulity was ludicrous, and he assured her stiffly, “I’m not in the habit of embarrassing myself.”

  “I daresay you aren’t,” she agreed, remembering him standing dazed by his smashed curricle, with his breeches split. “Paul Burford is a neighbor. You may even have met him when you visited here as a child, though I understand he frequently lived with his mother’s family. He owns a small property nearby, but his father drained it, mortgaging it to the hilt before he died. Paul is well-born, Lord Alvescot, but he doesn’t cavil at earning his living. I wish Edward would learn a lesson from him.”

  “I doubt Edward is talented enough at anything to earn a living at it,” Alvescot interjected.

  “You may be right.” Vanessa sighed and continued. “Anyhow, it was Paul who advised me when things went wrong with the first two estate managers. It never occurred to me to offer him the job. He was struggling to make ends meet at Buckland and I didn’t think he’d have the time or the inclination to work for me. In the end, he suggested it himself.”

  The earl set down his coffee cup, studying her face curiously. “I believe you told me yesterday that you pay him what I might consider a ‘disproportionate wage.’ Did you set the figure, or did he?”

  “I set it, and it’s considerably more than I paid the first two men. On the other hand, I didn’t do it out of sympathy for his situation. Originally I offered him what I’d been paying the previous fellow, and he accepted. When I saw how much he was willing to take on, and how extraordinarily well he was managing affairs, I increased his wage.”

  “Just exactly how much do you pay him?”

  Vanessa told him and his eyes widened in disbelief. She could see the supreme effort he made not to speak with sarcasm when he said, “That’s as much as I pay my own man, Mrs. Damery, and Cutsdean isn’t half the size of St. Aldwyns.”

  “No, but it was in twice as bad shape, I daresay. What you must appreciate, my lord, is precisely how demanding the job was, and is. Paul Burford wasn’t content to simply see the status quo maintained, as the other two managers had been. Everything was stagnant. No new farming methods had been introduced, no cottage repairs undertaken for the laborers, no attention to the most productive and best-selling crops, no increase in the dwindling herds of cattle. Paul has outlined a three-year plan for renewal and revitalization, and after a year his methods are already paying off. But I can see it won’t do any good to try to convince you; you’ll have to see for yourself. If you’ve finished breakfast, I can take you to him now.”

  Alvescot hastened to his feet and held her chair for her, murmuring, “I’m sure that would be best, Mrs. Damery.”

  If he weren’t trying so hard to be impartial, Vanessa thought, I’d be annoyed with his underlying assumption that I’m out of my mind. She remembered how he’d behaved when she and Frederick were married—polite but withdrawn. Aloof. That was what she’d thought him at the time, but Frederick had insisted that it wasn’t so. What was it he’d said? Something about Alvescot being reserved but not haughty.

  Well, perhaps not with his friends, Vanessa decided, but a stranger could certainly get that impression. She had yet to see him smile anything other than a polite curving of his lips. And, apologies aside, he wasn’t precisely accommodating in his attitude toward her, which she assumed might well be his attitude toward the whole female sex. Not that he appeared taken with the menfolk at Cutsdean, either. He seemed, over all, to have decided that everyone residing there was lacking in intelligence and/or good breeding. Of course, with the modest exception of herself and her children, she wasn’t sure she didn’t agree with him, but she would never be so uncivil as to show it.

  But he was not uncivil as they walked to the estate office, located in a building not far from the main structure, which had alternately gone through stages of being a barn, a chapel, and a gothic ruin, if local tradition was to be believed. Alvescot reminisced about its use when he was a boy.

  “At the time, no one occupied it. My uncle occasionally spoke of tearing it down, but Frederick always begged him not to because to us it was the perfect spot for a rainy afternoon. Sometimes it was a ship and we were sailors battling the elements; sometimes it was a haunted house and we were searching for the secret of the ghosts who walked there. I think it may have been used as a trysting place by the servants because we found some unnerving items of apparel occasionally.” For the first time his eyes really lit with amusement, and he grinned at her. “That sort of thing always fascinated us as boys.”

  “I can imagine,” she murmured, not quite meeting his gaze, but pressing her lips together to keep them from twitching. “They use the Orangery now.”

  He might have been tempted to ask her how she knew, but they were at Paul Burford’s office and she tapped lightly on the door. They were bid by a deep male voice to enter and Alvescot opened the door, allowing her to precede him into a large room with a gallery at one end supported by fluted columns. On one side of the room were traceried, stained-glass windows, but the rest of the glazing was perfectly standard. A young man rose from behind a commodious desk and approached them with a warm smile.

  “Lord Alvescot, this is Paul Burford.” Vanessa watched as the two men quickly sized each other up, with Alvescot still impassive but offering his hand. She hadn’t realized before how much difference there was in their ages. Alvescot had a good six years on the other man and was a complete contrast in every way. Burford had a shock of blond hair and merry blue eyes, standing only an inch taller than Vanessa, while Alvescot rose substantially above both of them. The earl’s build was more substantial, too, with his broad shoulders and muscular thighs. Burford had the kind of wiry physique one expected in a smaller, active man, but Vanessa was inclined to believe that Alvescot, for all his height, was probably superbly athletic as well.

  Vanessa turned to the earl to say, “I’ll leave the two of you together, unless there’s anything further you need of me. Paul understands that you’re co-trustee and have the responsibility of looking into every facet of the estate’s management and expenses. Why don’t you both join us for luncheon today?”

  When the two men agreed, and showed no inclination to ask anything further of her, Vanessa left them, walking quickly back to the house, where she headed directly for the children’s floor.

  Chapter Five

  The nursemaid, Lucy, already had the two children in the big schoolroom. Not that either of them were old enough for much in the way of lessons, but the room served just as well as a play area, where their toys could be stored in the cupboards and brought out as needed. For a long time John’s favorite had been the toy soldiers, but Vanessa had slowly introduced pieces for a replica of a village and farm, with storefronts and tiny animals, a carriage and farm equipment. The soldiers were still available, though he played with them less frequently now. But Vanessa wasn’t surprised, somehow, to find him lining up his troops that morning.

  John turned to greet her with a solemn face. “That man, Alvy-something, said Papa was a very brave man.”

  “Yes, he was,” Vanessa agreed. “I didn�
�t know you’d spoken with Lord Alvescot, John. He’s your godfather, and your father’s cousin.”

  “I know. He told me.” The little boy accidentally knocked over one of the soldiers on horseback and quickly set it right again. “I’m going to show him how I ride today, and tomorrow I’m going to take him to see the canal where it goes into the tunnel.”

  Vanessa wanted to caution him that Lord Alvescot would be busy that day with Paul Burford, since she didn’t want her son to be disappointed, but she allowed herself to be distracted by Catherine, who came tumbling toward her with a windmill pull toy. The toy clattered across the floor as Catherine laughed and ran in her own bouncing fashion, tumbling into Vanessa’s waiting arms.

  “How’s my big girl?” Vanessa asked. “Did you meet Lord Alvescot, too?” She really didn’t expect a coherent answer from the child, but her eyes traveled over Catherine’s head to where Lucy was setting their breakfast dishes on a tray.

  “He was in the garden yesterday afternoon,” Lucy explained. “We all met him, so’s to speak. Then John took him to see the pony.”

  “Did he like Rollo, John?”

  “Oh, yes. He thought Rollo was famous! We’re going to take a basket of food with us when we go to the canal.” He looked momentarily uncertain. “If that’s all right.”

  “Of course.” What was this? Vanessa wondered with amusement. John asking permission? Surely that was something new. But she shrugged off the possible implications, and there was no further discussion of the earl as she sat and played with the children for the next hour.

  During that time two messages were brought to her by the servants: that Mabel wished to see her and that Edward hoped she would ride with him. The intrusion on her time with the children was exasperating, since both of them knew her habit of spending a while on the nursery floor after breakfast. She instructed the footman to tell Mabel she would see her later and to tell Edward that she had no idea when she would be riding that day. When she was perfectly ready, she left the children in Lucy’s care and went to face the demands of the rest of her household.