Laura Matthews

by A Very Proper Widow

  It was menus that concerned Mabel, of course. Vanessa reluctantly agreed to speak with Cook about the one Mabel had handed her the previous day, mentally chopping it in half to serve for two evening meals rather than one. When she was returning from this errand, Edward waylaid her in the hall.

  “Ah, you look charming this morning, Vanessa. Have you been with the children?”

  “Yes, Edward, as I am every morning.”

  He ignored her impatient tone and smiled broadly. “They need a man about the place, my dear. Someone for them to look up to.”

  Vanessa had difficulty restraining a sarcastic retort, and said nothing.

  Deciding it was not the time to press the matter, Edward changed the subject. “Shall we ride now? The weather’s perfect and later it may be too hot.”

  “I have a great deal to do this morning. Edward. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m afraid.”

  “You should make the time for yourself, my dear lady. Surely nothing is so urgent it can’t wait for an hour or two.”

  His expectant face with its engaging grin only served to set up her back. Could he possibly, after all this time, believe his company gave her the least bit of pleasure? The man had a hide as thick as a door! She wished he’d take his flirtatious blue eyes and his curly blond hair and disappear from her life. Fortunately, the housekeeper bustled into the hall as they spoke and Vanessa turned to her. “Mrs. Howden, I need to discuss several matters with you. Excuse me, Edward.”

  The flash of irritation in his eyes did not escape her as she joined the older woman, but it merely served to reinforce her opinion of his hypocrisy. His great show of affection for her was no more than a ploy to marry her for his advantage. And what money he thought he could get his hands on, she hardly knew. Her jointure was more than sufficient for her needs, but would hardly keep him in style. There was no possibility of his not understanding the trust set up for her son and daughter, so wherein did he think the great bonanza lay? It was just one more of those unanswerable questions Vanessa was constantly forced to set aside as she went about her daily duties, one of the puzzles she occasionally lay awake at night, lonely, considering until she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Even the children could hardly make up for the lack of congenial adult company at Cutsdean. Vanessa couldn’t spend the whole day with them, considering the demands of so large a household, and she had to constantly prevent her husband’s relations from interfering with the children’s rearing: Mrs. Damery with her acid comments on their indulgence, the captain’s military commands, Mabel’s syrupy cooing at them, Edward’s two-faced attention. Really, it was more than enough to deal with.

  And now there was Alvescot as well. Did he realize he’d made a promise to little John which the boy expected him to keep? Adults who weren’t familiar with children frequently didn’t understand how literally their words were taken and Vanessa felt sure Alvescot wasn’t familiar with children. Still, she had no intention of broaching the matter to him when the family gathered for luncheon. His frankness of the previous day had been slightly unnerving for her, despite her attempts to laugh it off.

  Vanessa wasn’t comfortable categorizing him with the eccentrics in her household, and consequently could not take his presence with the same indifference. Alvescot had, after all, a great deal of power over her situation, and that of her son and daughter, a power they shared equally under the terms of Frederick’s will, but a power nonetheless.

  With some expectation that the earl and Paul Burford would have come to a complete understanding of each other during the morning hours, Vanessa was disturbed when they joined the party in the Saloon looking as wary of each other as they had when she introduced them earlier. Not that she had expected them to arrive with mutually glowing reports of their interaction, or slapping one another on the back, but she had hoped for more than the silent neutrality between them.

  Paul Burford was an outgoing young man, full of enthusiasm, and Vanessa had been sure he would charm the earl in a matter of minutes. But Alvescot appeared thoroughly unmoved by the morning’s experience, standing slightly apart from the others and observing them with a carefully schooled countenance.

  Vanessa seldom invited Burford to join them for a meal because her husband’s relations, though poverty-stricken themselves for the most part, looked on the estate manager as beneath their notice. The fact that he was as well-born as any of them did not, to their minds, make up for his having lowered himself to the status of an employee. Edward especially, she had noted, was insufferable to him, rather than taking a hint from Burford’s sensible course of action. Ordinarily, Vanessa would have gone to speak with him, but there was the earl to accommodate today as well, and she cast a speaking glance at Louisa, who, rather surprisingly, drifted over to where Burford stood alone.

  Relieved, Vanessa approached Alvescot. “Did you spend the entire morning in the estate office, Lord Alvescot, or have you had an opportunity to ride about the estate?”

  “There wasn’t time for an inspection if we were going to join the rest of you for luncheon, Mrs. Damery. We would merely have had to cut short to be back here in time.”

  Determined not to be intimidated by his veiled criticism, she nodded. “True. Well, no doubt you’ll have ample opportunity this afternoon to see anything you wish. Has Paul explained his innovations to you?”

  Alvescot remained impassive, saying dryly, “Most of them, I daresay. If he’s to be believed, the estate was in deplorable condition when he took over. I wouldn’t have thought a place could deteriorate so badly in a year.’’

  “We’re not talking about a year.” Vanessa kept her tone as level as possible, not allowing him to bait her. “You should be as aware as anyone, Lord Alvescot, that Frederick hadn’t spent much time on the estate for five years before his death. His estate manager was older and had grown lazy. I pensioned him off almost two years ago, though he hadn’t actually reached an age where it should have been necessary.”

  His hazel eyes studied her enigmatically. “That must have been difficult for you.”

  “It was,” she admitted, not meeting his gaze. “He’d been here for a long time, much longer than I. But it had to be done.”

  “Yes. Sensibility has no part in the running of an estate. I’m glad you recognize that, Mrs. Damery.”

  There was an underlying warning in his words and she glanced up at him sharply. “You’re still convinced that Paul is a sentimental choice?” she asked, incredulous. “Haven’t you been paying attention to him? Every project is thoroughly thought out, every expense documented. How can you be so skeptical?”

  “It’s not difficult, Mrs. Damery. I’ve seen all the tricks for hiding illegitimate expenses among the real ones, all the finagling that goes into padding worthwhile projects with unnecessary extras, all the possibilities for bribes in the placing of orders and contracts.”

  “Paul isn’t like that.”

  Alvescot shrugged. “You may be right.” His voice held no conviction and Vanessa could feel a cold frustration building in her when he continued. “But you have to consider the possibilities, Mrs. Damery. He’s a young man without resources of his own, attempting to build up his estate. You told me so yourself. It would be so easy to divert a little money to it here and there, you know. An account book cannot prove to me that the seed which was purchased was actually sown at Cutsdean. It could just as easily have been planted elsewhere.”

  “And how could he possibly prove to you that it wasn’t? You’re quite wrong, Lord Alvescot. I’ve known Paul for five years, and he’s an exceptionally honorable man.”

  “I’d like to respect your judgment, Mrs. Damery, and to accept it without question.” His gaze moved over the assembled members of her household, coolly taking in a smirking Edward and a stiff, self-righteous Captain Lawrence before he returned his gaze to her. “But I can’t. I have a duty as co-trustee to take an unprejudiced look at the situation.”

  “But you are prejudiced,” she insisted, �
��against Paul Burford.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. My curiosity is aroused by the large expenses and by what you’ve told me of his predicament. You have to admit that your friendship may have blinded you to the real circumstances.”

  “I wouldn’t admit anything of the sort,” she snapped.

  “Then you’re . . .”

  “A fool,” she finished for him when he stopped himself. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that before.”

  “That was inexcusable of me. All I meant at the time was that you appeared rather foolhardy to have taken on so many guests.” As though he couldn’t restrain himself, he added. “And such unpalatable ones.”

  “The only thing we disagree on there is the matter of obligation, Lord Alvescot. It isn’t a case of sensibility.” Vanessa turned her gaze to where Louisa stood chatting with Paul Burford. “I want you to promise me you won’t take any action about Paul without first discussing it with me. No, more than that. I want you to make some effort not to convey your suspicions to him.”

  “I’m hardly likely to do that.”

  Vanessa frowned at him. “You don’t understand, Lord Alvescot. Your natural demeanor is suspicious. I’m sure you’ll excuse my forthrightness, since you are apparently a frank person yourself, but you would have to make a concerted effort to look other than chillingly distrustful of your fellow man.”

  His eyes widened, but if he had intended a retort, it was forestalled by the announcement of lunch. In the general exodus, Vanessa was separated from him by hungry guests and he found himself seated, as he had the previous evening, at the opposite end of the table. Vanessa, calmly smiling, put Paul Burford on her right.

  * * * *

  Every one of them is crazy, Alvescot decided as he ate his meal in haughty silence. He had thought Vanessa Damery at least had some regard for his consequence. No one had ever told him before that he appeared “chillingly distrustful” of everyone, and he didn’t believe it for a minute. These plebeians simply did not comprehend the reserve with which a peer of the realm was obliged to disport himself.

  Would she have him act like the other “gentlemen” in her household? Smugly complacent like Edward Curtiss, or insufferably priggish like Captain Lawrence? Or perhaps inanely self-absorbed like the perpetual suitor, William Oldcastle? The poor woman had lost touch with civilized society. Probably she didn’t even remember Frederick’s elegant bearing, his distinguished manners, surrounded as she was with such boors. Obviously, she couldn’t recognize a real gentleman when she encountered one!

  Which led him to wonder how her poor son—and his godson!—was going to grow up to be one. He had no models on which to pattern himself, with the dubious exception of Paul Burford. Alvescot was not immune to that young man’s easy charm, but he was well-prepared to resist it. He’d met charming rascals before, and he’d met men whose values were flexible when their resources were limited. If he was suspicious, he told himself righteously, it was with good cause. And he was not willing to see Frederick’s son emulate a man who might turn out to be a scoundrel, no matter what Paul Burford’s surface appearance might be to the contrary.

  Alvescot remembered, suddenly, that he had promised little John he would watch him ride today, and that he would go to visit the canal with him tomorrow. For a moment he thought of putting the lad off, since he intended to pursue his investigations of the estate management with vigor, but one glance at Vanessa Damery convinced him otherwise. She would consider it callous behavior, no doubt, being the devoted mother she was. Women with children got their priorities confused. It was a wonder she’d noticed the deterioration of the estate at all!

  The luncheon was criticized, as usual, by Mabel Curtiss, but Alvescot found it perfectly adequate, though he didn’t pay much attention to what he ate. Mabel made it clear to him that he had a treat in store that evening, because she had herself prepared the menu. One would have thought she was preparing the meal itself, from the way she gloated. He did no more than offer her a civil nod and a few distracted and unintelligible words, so caught up was he in brooding about Frederick’s son.

  Was it his duty to take some part in the boy’s upbringing? Surely John was too young to need much more than physical care at this point. Later, perhaps, he would have the boy to visit him for a few weeks each year, over a school holiday or during the long vacation. And it would probably be best for him to introduce the lad to London when the time came. Nothing was worse than a woman’s thinking she could undertake that task, or for a young man to attempt it with other empty-headed school friends. No, that was his responsibility; Frederick would have wished it.

  Because he wasn’t sure Vanessa Damery would go along with his mental schemes, he found himself devising arguments to persuade her. They were reasonable arguments, with which no rational woman could possibly find fault, but he found that in his mind, she did. And he plotted ways in which to convince her, dialogues in which they occasionally crossed swords, with him always prevailing, of course, by saying something like, “You may be an attractive woman, and you’re not without intelligence, but you have no concept of the intricacies of society, my dear Cousin Vanessa.” He wasn’t sure how he had become that familiar with her, but she was always won over in the end.

  “Was there something further you required, Lord Alvescot?” Vanessa asked from the doorway.

  Alvescot looked up from his distracted study of the salt cellar to find that he alone remained at the table. No one else was in the room at all, except his hostess, who stood with amused eyes and a wide grin waiting for him to come out of his trance. He rose swiftly to his feet, very nearly knocking over his chair, and muttered, “I was considering some rather serious matters, madame.”

  “I’m sure you were, and I wouldn’t have interrupted you except that Paul didn’t know whether to go to the estate office or wait for you. I sent him on, but I thought you might wish to join him soon.”

  “Well, yes,” Alvescot agreed, feeling rather foolish. Why the devil was she always catching him at some disadvantage? His long-legged stride had already brought him abreast of her and he scowled at the mischief in her eyes. “There is, of course, the matter of your son. I promised to watch him ride today. Perhaps you could suggest the most convenient time. I shouldn’t like to disappoint the lad.”

  Now her face softened to a warm smile. “I’m so glad you remembered. Why don’t I have Lucy bring him to the stables about four-thirty? Then you’d have time to spend a few minutes with him before changing for dinner.”

  “That sounds an eminently sensible arrangement,” he said stiffly, stepping past her to open the door. But before he actually twisted the handle another thought worked its way into his sluggish brain. “Ah, there is the ride to the canal tomorrow. Did he mention that to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And are you agreeable?”

  “Certainly, but I should just mention that he may not actually know how to get you there. His sense of direction is not well developed as yet.”

  Alvescot cleared his throat. “Would you care to accompany us in that case, Mrs. Damery? I’m sure you’re familiar with the location.”

  “I thought perhaps you might be yourself, Lord Alvescot.” When he shook his head, she said, “Then you’ll need a guide. I’d be happy to come.”

  “Thank you. John seemed to wish to take a picnic basket with us.”

  “Yes, he asked if he might.”

  The earl nodded his approval. “Shall we leave at noon then? Or should you be here to have your meal with your . . . guests?”

  Vanessa made a gesture of reckless abandon. “Let them fend for themselves this once,” she said with a teasing laugh. “Noon it is.”

  Chapter Six

  The afternoon was warm, but not hot as expected, and Alvescot rode over the estate with Paul Burford quite comfortably. He made some effort to appear interested rather than suspicious as Burford explained the changes that were being made—the new cottages for the laborers, the changed rotation of crops
, the attempts to breed a better stock even as they expanded.

  Evidences of the deterioration were still observable and Burford explained that he planned to take several years to entirely complete the task, so that capital expenditures wouldn’t absorb all the new income. There was nothing wrong with his plans, Alvescot admitted to himself, but they weren’t necessarily the whole story. Cutsdean could conceivably have absorbed all the expenditures claimed for it . . . or it might not have. It was almost impossible to tell without a thorough inspection of the books and some side investigations into suppliers in the neighborhood. Alvescot was also highly interested in seeing just how Burford’s own estate was being revitalized.

  “Are you making the same type of improvements at your home?” he asked casually.

  Paul studied him for a moment, a wry twist to his lips. “Some of them. Whatever I can afford. There’s been no new building as yet, but I’ve seen to repairs. My concentration has been on the crops and the livestock. When they produce enough income, I’ll see to upgrading the structures.”

  “I’d be interested in seeing it one day.”

  “Whenever you wish,” Paul agreed, turning his horse back toward the Hall. “I live there, of course, and you could come over any morning before I leave for Cutsdean.”

  His willingness to show Alvescot his property did not necessarily reassure the earl. There would be no way of telling when improvements had been made, or how much they cost, but Alvescot stubbornly believed that he would be able to tell from the man’s behavior whether the innovations were made at Mrs. Damery’s expense. No denying, certainly, that Burford had been progressing nicely at Cutsdean. His grasp of the latest methods was excellent, his plans for the estate prudent and thorough. In light of the friendship between Burford and Mrs. Damery, Alvescot wondered if he had any more personal plans. Like marriage. To her.