My Lord Tremaine

by Oliver, Marina

  *

  Lady Tremaine remained implacable. She was seriously annoyed with Diana, and Elinor, going into the drawing room before dinner on the following day, heard the end of a sentence. How, Lady Tremaine was demanding, could Diana expect Edmund to be attracted when she behaved like a hoyden?

  Diana tried to placate her, and when her winsome tactics failed, fell into a sulk. Lady Tremaine turned to complaining about Jane, asking for how long she intended to linger in bed, pretending to be ill.

  Elinor forbore to respond. Whatever she said would make no difference. Lady Tremaine would never change her mind. It was a silent meal.

  When she came downstairs on the following morning it was to find the hall strewn with trunks and other impedimenta. Diana's maid was attempting to count the various bandboxes and valises, while Diana sat in a chair arranging her jewellery in a large fitted case.

  'Are you leaving?' Elinor exclaimed.

  'I'm not staying here where I am so badly treated. There is no one of interest, no one to entertain me, and we are so far from any other place where I might shop, or go to assemblies.'

  'But – where are you going? I understood your parents were away, on a ship to India.'

  'That is nought to the point. I have other friends. I am going, you may tell my dear aunt, to visit Aunt Augusta in Truro. At least there are shops there, and from what the Colonel told me, some social life to make it endurable.'

  'I see. But won't you tell Lady Tremaine yourself? Surely you do not intend to leave without seeing her? She would send someone with you, a footman.'

  'She does not deserve any consideration, the way she has treated me, neglecting me to drive out with that ridiculous old man! And I do not need any of her servants. My maid and coachman are all I need to protect me on what, after all, is a simple journey.'

  'Have you spoken to his lordship?'

  'Why should I? He is out riding with his wretched bailiff, when he cannot be bothered to accompany me. Now do stop questioning me, this is naught to do with you. You are no better than a servant, dependent as you are on my aunt's charity.'

  'As you will.'

  Elinor suppressed her indignation. The girl was spoilt, rude, and what she did was none of her business. Much more important was her concern over Jane. Her sister had been petulant, declaring, when Molly brought up some breakfast, that she did not need Elinor hovering over her, and would be grateful if her sister left her alone. Elinor agreed. She was tired of Jane's ill humours, and to cool her head went, after breakfast, to drive to the village and visit Mrs Craven.

  She returned to find Diana gone, and Lady Tremaine berating Edmund indignantly.

  'You paid the child no attention! It's not surprising she was unhappy, but to drive her into running away, and that without a word of explanation to either of us, is not to be endured. She did not even leave a letter, and I cannot think where she has gone. She could be in danger, and you don't even care.'

  'No, I don't. That chit is more than capable of dealing even with a highwayman. She'd probably run off with him, wanting to become his accomplice!'

  'She told me she was going to her aunt in Truro,' Elinor intervened. 'I don't think she will encounter many hazards on the way there.'

  Lady Tremaine glared at her.

  'Why did she confide in you, Miss?'

  'I found her in the hall, her luggage all around her. She had to say something. Of course, it may not have been the truth, but I think she was too angry to prevaricate.'

  Edmund stifled a laugh.

  'You seem to know her. Well, Mama, we can be at ease. She will be safe there, and I wish Aunt Augusta joy of her.'

  *

  For several days Lady Tremaine fumed, but she was foiled in her first intention of sending Edmund after Diana to bring her back when he refused to go. She threatened to send a constable, but in the end did nothing. For this Elinor decided Colonel Watts was responsible. When her ladyship asked him to go, and he also refused, she was persuaded nothing could be done.

  'The girl won't come back,' Edmund said bluntly, 'and I for one do not want her here.'

  'But I had hoped you and she might make a match of it,' his mother said. 'She will inherit a large fortune, and even if it does come from trade, she is ladylike. After all, my sister is her mother. She would make you the perfect wife.'

  'I don't need a fortune, I have enough. As for being ladylike, she is the greatest hoyden I have ever met. Why, I'd sooner wed Marja, the farm girl in Belgium, than her!'

  Lady Tremaine, for the first time in Elinor's experience, dissolved into tears and left the room. Edmund frowned, and threw himself onto a sopha.

  'I suppose you think I ought to go after her,' he said.

  Elinor almost laughed. He looked so like a frustrated, rebellious little boy.

  'Of course not. You don't wish for your Mama to try and change your mind, do you? She will soon begin to believe she is well rid of Diana. She was neglecting her, you know. She drove out with Colonel Watts most afternoons.'

  He looked startled, then laughed.

  'With that pompous bore? I wasn't aware of that. I wonder what they can have to say to one another? But if it keeps her happy, why not?'

  'It does. They are probably abusing all their acquaintances in Truro. As for Diana, when George went to live in the Dower House Diana lost her one admirer. She will enjoy being in Truro, where I am sure she will soon have a multitude of admirers.'

  'Would you prefer to be living in a town yourself?'

  Elinor considered, then shook her head.

  'The only town I have lived in is Bristol, when I was at school, and that is perhaps not a good comparison. I prefer the country. Is William's house close to the town of Bude?'

  'I think on the outskirts. It will be livelier there for you than here.'

  This, Elinor decided, might be a good time to enlist his help for Jane.

  'Jane is terrified of going there,' she said quietly. 'She is afraid William will be – well, as importunate in his attentions as he was before. Now she has lost the child he will, she thinks, be anxious to make her pregnant again.'

  He sighed. 'If I could do anything to help, be sure I would. At least she will not have his mother and sister criticising her all the time.'

  'Won't they be going back too?' Elinor was surprised.

  'I will have to tell them soon, but I confess I was trying to put off the task. They will not be pleased!'

  'What do you mean? Tell them what?'

  'The house is not large enough for them as well as Jane, William says. He is building onto a farmhouse he owns, which he intends to be a Dower House for them. It is some distance away,' Edmund added, grinning.

  'How very sensible of him. Are you saying he did not inform them of his plans, but left the task to you?'

  'Of course. William may have had good reason. He did not wish them to know before it was necessary, as he was sure his Mama would be offended. But it will not be ready for a few months, so they will have to remain here. At least they are at my Dower House, not living at the Court!'

  Elinor laughed. 'Army strategy?' she teased. 'Is that why you insisted they went to live there?'

  'Self preservation.' He got to his feet. 'Well, I must change for dinner. If Mama decides to eat in her room, we will be alone. I trust you do not object?'

  Elinor found she was far from objecting. She did not often speak alone with Edmund, and thought she would enjoy a meal without the constraints and annoyances that usually accompanied any meal at the Court.

  She must look in on Jane. For days Jane had insisted she did not wish for company, and she was so disagreeable, constantly complaining, Elinor had avoided her company.

  She arrived in Jane's room to find Mattie sunk onto the bed, and Molly looking into the wardrobe. There was no Jane.

  'What is it?' she demanded, a sudden sense of alarm striking her.

  'She's gone,' Mattie said, and burst into tears. 'Oh, my poor baby! She's run away, she couldn't endure havin
g to face that wicked husband of hers again.'

  'She left you a letter, Miss Elinor,' Molly said.

  The letter was brief. Jane apologised for the disgrace, but said she could not endure having to stay with William.

  'I am going with Richard. He loves me still, and he will treat me with consideration. I'm sorry, Elinor, but you will be better off without me.'

  *

  Lady Tremaine, when she heard on the following day, was predictably furious.

  'The ungrateful wretch! My nephew deigns to wed her, a nobody, and this is how she treats him! If you had not come home, Edmund, and she had kept the title, no doubt she would have been content.'

  'Are you saying it would have been better for me not to have returned?' Edmund asked with a laugh.

  'Don't be foolish!' She turned to Elinor. 'I blame you!'

  'Me? But why? How am I to blame?'

  'You encouraged her to be discontented! You permitted her to say she was ill, you turned her against William. No doubt you were jealous, and resented her good fortune in catching a man who could give her a far better life than she might have expected if she had married within her station!'

  There was some little truth in the accusations, and perhaps Elinor had been over-indulgent towards Jane, but Lady Tremaine did not know the whole. Elinor could not permit her to believe William was the only one to be pitied. Raising her voice over Lady Tremaine's continuing complaints, she told her just how William had behaved towards the wife he had vowed to cherish.

  'You don't know what you are talking about. You cannot, you are not married and it is an unsuitable topic for discussion. Women have to accept their husband's attentions with dignity, and true ladies do not whine and protest. That is all I have to say to you.'

  She turned to leave the room, but Elinor was closer to the door and did not move out of the way.

  'Is it dignified, and a normal married practice for a man to go to his wife wearing spurs, and for him to use them on her?'

  'What do you say? What sick fantasy of yours is this? Of course no gentleman would treat a women in such a fashion.'

  'William is no gentleman. If you disbelieve me, ask Mattie. She saw the result of his treatment, the cuts and scratches on Jane's feet and legs.'

  'This is all lies! Your old nurse would say whatever you asked. Pray move out of my way, Miss Darwen. I think the sooner you can arrange to follow your sister the better. You and the old woman are no longer welcome in my house.'

  'Miss Darwen is at liberty to remain in my house, Mama, and so is Mattie, until they can, without pressure, arrange to leave. I expect she will be applying for some post, but that takes time, and I will not have her insulted. What her sister chooses to do is not her fault.'

  *

  'Shall I take my meals on a tray?'

  Edmund frowned. 'Of course not. You are still my guest, and will be treated as such. My mother is being completely unreasonable.'

  Elinor nodded but did not smile. Edmund considered her. She was more beautiful than Jane, even when Jane was younger and he'd thought himself in love with her. Had he been in love? After all that had happened he could not be sure. Certainly his closer view of Jane since he had returned to England had not moved him at all. Perhaps that was due to William, and the fact she had been so unhappy. Jane's flight, reprehensible as it was, at least solved the problem which had been worrying him, how he might help her deal with William.

  William himself arrived two days later. Edmund had sent a groom with a letter, but William, storming into the drawing room just before dinner, demanded an explanation. He ignored Lady Tremaine's scandalised protests and addressed himself to Edmund.

  'How the devil was she permitted to meet this damned fellow? Did he visit the house? You, Miss,' he went on, turning to Elinor, 'must have been aware of what was happening. You knew her past connection with the wretch, couldn't you have stopped it?'

  'I was not her keeper,' Elinor said. 'Do you think I should have stayed at her side all day – as well as all night?'

  'Yes, and that is another bone I have to pick with you and that damned – '

  'William, it is understandable that you are angry, but please moderate your language in front of my mother and Miss Darwen.'

  'What? Oh, very well. I'm referring to that old hag who kept me from Jane. I don't know what she did, but I suspect she drugged me. I slept all night when I was here, which was not normal with me, but since I've been back in Bude I have slept as before.'

  'Really?' It was a poor response but all Elinor could manage. She looked embarrassed.

  Edmund looked at her, trying to hide his amusement. Was that in truth how she and Mattie had protected Jane against William's importunities? When she glanced across at him, an apprehensive look in her eyes, he grinned.

  'The air here is said by some to be soporific,' he said smoothly. 'No one knows precisely why, but it is generally thought to be the effect of some of the trees emitting a vapour.'

  William snorted. 'Poppycock! I was drugged. But that's now beside the point. I am determined to divorce her. Her letter provides evidence of adultery, but I mean to find her and this man who has stolen her, and make him pay! They won't get away with this.'

  'You mean you hope he will pay the costs of an Act?' Edmund said, surprised. 'That would be unusual indeed.'

  'Why not?'

  'You will have to find them first,' Elinor said.

  'Don't think I won't!'

  'Meanwhile, why not go and change from your riding clothes and join us for dinner. Unless you prefer to go to the Dower House and dine with your mother?'

  *

  William spent the next few days questioning Edmund's servants, especially the grooms and coachman. The only information he discovered was that one of the grooms had a couple of times observed a horse tethered in a spinney just outside a small gate which led out of the park. Next, despite Edmund's suggestion that to broadcast his affairs in the village was unwise, he went to the Black Bull.

  'That man hired a horse from the inn,' he reported at dinner. 'He left on the same day Jane vanished.'

  'Did you expect them to be staying there still?' Edmund asked. He was feeling thoroughly tired of his cousin's rampaging at him whenever he was at the Court.

  'Of course not. Then he hired a chaise to take them to Plymouth. I'll go there in the morning.'

  'You will be wasting your time,' Lady Tremaine said. 'Why do you not be grateful to be rid of her? She was never a suitable bride for you, even now when you have had to give up your pretensions to the title. That, of course, was all she wanted from you.'

  'I want to make her pay! She has disgraced me!'

  Edmund sighed. 'There is no more information to be gained here, so why do you not go home? Any investigations you wish to pursue can be done just as easily from Bude.'

  'I can see I am not welcome here. Aunt, do you wish me to leave?'

  Lady Tremaine smiled.

  'My dear William, soon it will be of no more interest to me. Colonel Watts has gone ahead to Bath, and means to procure suitable lodgings for me. Edmund, I will be leaving the Court as soon as I hear from him that he has hired them.'

  Edmund looked rather surprised, then he nodded.

  'No doubt you will find life there more congenial,' he said.

  Lady Tremaine pursed her lips.

  'Is that all you have to say?'

  'What more is there to say? It is your life, your decision, and there will be far more company there that I can provide for you.'

  'There are a few small items I would wish to take with me. That portrait of your father, for instance.'

  'By all means. I think you ought to begin packing at once, so that you are ready to move as soon as word comes that apartments have been hired for you.'

  This was clearly not to her liking. Had she expected him to beg her not to leave the Court? He was surprised, but discovered he was looking forward to the time when she would not be constantly criticising him, and, of late, ignoring Elin
or.

  'Colonel Watts will also be living in Bath?' he asked.

  She looked suspicious.

  'Yes, he has spent a good deal of time there, even when he was based in Truro, and he knows many people there, so I will have access to the society of people of quality at once.'

  'How very agreeable that will be.'

  'And I will take your advice,' William said, 'since I have not been made to feel welcome here, and return to Bude tomorrow.'

  *

  Elinor had much to ponder when she retired to bed that night. Much as she disliked Lady Tremaine, when she had gone it would be impossible for her to remain at the Court. She suspected her ladyship would be gone within a few days, so she needed to make plans. She had applied for a few posts, after Jane's departure, but there had not been time for any responses. She would consult her good friend, Mrs Craven.

  On the following morning Edmund was the only one at breakfast when she went downstairs.

  'William departed an hour ago,' he told her as he helped her to some ham and kidneys.

  'What does he intend to do with his mother and sister? Did he tell you?'

  Edmund grinned. 'Yes, and he still means to put them in his new Dower House. He did not inform them of it, though. He said he would tell them he had things to see to at home, and as he had been preparing for Jane to join him, it would be inconvenient for them to go to Bude for a while.'

  'He is a coward!'

  'Oh, yes. I was not sure whether he intended me to break the news, but I have no intention of doing so. The less I see of that pair the better.'

  Elinor took a deep breath.

  'Edmund, I will have to move from the Court.'

  'What? Oh, yes, I suppose so, when there is no hostess to give you countenance. What can you do? Have you relatives you can go to?'

  'I mean to apply for a position as companion. I have already begun to send letters in reply to advertisements. I may be able to go to stay with my old schoolmistress in Bristol. She has once or twice suggested it. I suspect she wants to persuade me to become a teacher, and if all else fails that is what I will have to do.'

  'Is it what you wish to do?'

  'Not really. I don't think I have the patience to deal with whole classes of girls. I discovered that when, as a senior, I was sometimes asked to stand in for one of the teachers.'