Three Abductions and an Earl:

by Tessa Candle

  She shook her head, but resolved internally that she could make do without books.

  “And the horses—we shall keep only those necessary for the farm.” He sighed and finished his brandy in one inelegant gulp. “I fear it is this last item that will most pain you. I shall be forced to sell Aristophanes. And we shall keep a minimum of servants. In short, our sole income will be from farming, which is not entirely predictable, and we shall live very carefully.”

  Lydia paled. Not Ari. He was the best jumper she had ever seen. She loved that horse. Surely her father was over-reacting. He acted as though he did not have a surplus fifty thousand pounds sitting in an account.

  They would not have to sell the horses immediately. Perhaps something could be done to save them. But if they let the servants go, would that mean Ole Maeb as well? She had rheumatic pains and did not see well. Lydia could not bear it.

  “But what of Old Maeb? Remember that she saved my life when I was a babe. Mama says that were it not for Old Maeb's herbal concoction, I should have died of that fever. And she is beyond the years that anyone else will hire her. We cannot cast her off so heartlessly.”

  The thought was even worse than losing Ari, who might have a good life in someone else's stables, loved and well cared for.

  “Do not worry yourself on that head. Her employment with us has been entirely symbolic in these last few years. I shall cease to pay her wages—but as long as we have a home, she will have a place in it. Only none of us will have the level of luxury to which we have grown accustomed.”

  “I can endure it, Papa. And in time we could earn back our wealth—fifty thousand is no small amount for a starting investment.”

  Her father shook his head resolutely. “That money shall be your marriage settlement. That is my point, Lydia. Our circumstances have changed and now you must marry. And it will be best if you make a match quickly, before the ton discovers our turn of fortunes, for it will hurt your chances greatly. I had hoped perhaps you would consider Mr. Mortimer. He is a decent man, and kind. And he loves country life as much as you do.”

  “He is a good man, Papa, but I cannot marry him. I simply cannot. Nor do I believe him to have any deep feeling for me.”

  Her father sighed.

  “How long do you suppose we can conceal the truth of our circumstances?” Lydia's brain began concocting plans.

  “The devil won't be at the door for some months. If I sell a few items discreetly, I can cover the payments on this house, so we can remain in London long enough to make a good match for you, I hope. But you must marry a man of some fortune. If I can see you well-married, I shall not have to worry. Your mother and I can live in the countryside without labouring under the expense of spending the season in London—though it will not make her happy.”

  Lydia nodded sadly. Her mother would be devastated.

  “And do not speak a word of this to anyone, my dear.” Her father was stern. “Not even your friend, Miss Ravelsham. I am sure she is very trustworthy, but we can take no risks.”

  Chapter 12

  The morning sunlight lit up the butter yellow walls of the breakfast parlour with an optimistic glow that could not penetrate Lydia's gloom. She wished she could be cheered by the sweet fairy design on the teacup, or by the rainbows cast through the crystal inset in the window.

  Her mother's eyes were slightly swollen at breakfast, but no omission of toilette or display of emotion suggested that there was anything amiss. Lydia wondered how much her father had told his wife.

  Lydia had not cried, but her eyes were shadowed, as she had spent a sleepless night trying to devise a way out of their straits. She had some vague notion that she might invest the small amount of money she had saved from her allowance and help the family that way. It was not such a solid plan that it compensated for her tired eyes and wilted vigour, but it was a start.

  She was grateful that their morning visitors would likely attribute their dull looks to the late conclusion of Lady Goodram's ball. Lydia found herself recalling with some sympathy Lady Goodram's frequent observation that morning visits coming on the heels of a ball were an uncivilized abomination. Lady Goodram could simply declare herself not at home.

  But the Norwood family were obliged to endure it as best they could, for they now relied on cultivating their acquaintance more than ever. Yet Mrs. Norwood managed to leave Lydia alone with the young morning callers when they arrived.

  Miss Delacroix contrived to call upon them early, no doubt to get the timeliest possible information about the ball, and possibly also to punish Lydia for having attended a ball to which she had not been invited.

  Tilly accompanied her because she had arrived to call at the Delacroix's, only to discover Miss Delacroix leaving to call at the Norwood's. No doubt Tilly wished to lend support to Lydia under the burden of Miss Delacroix's call—though it was also possible that she entertained a tiny hope of Lydia's supplying cream biscuits and news of some sordid happenings.

  “And Lord Aldley attended?” Miss Delacroix's face was straining to maintain a pleasant expression.

  “Yes, he is apparently well acquainted with Lady Goodram.” Lydia smiled a little at the memory.

  “And did that lady introduce you?” Tilly could not help twisting the thorn of jealousy which was visibly lodged in Miss Delacroix's heart.

  “Yes, she did.” Lydia did not really want to be closely interviewed about it in front of Miss Delacroix, but clearly Tilly took great amusement in precisely this activity.

  “What was he like? I hear he is very handsome.” Tilly cocked her head.

  “Yes, he is, indeed,” Lydia affirmed. “And his manners are rather different from Lady Aldley's, I should say.”

  “What do you mean?” Miss Delacroix leaned in slightly, and Tilly shot Lydia a warning look.

  Lydia took the hint and amended, “Oh, I do not quite know. I really am not well enough acquainted with Lady Aldley to comment on her mode of expression. But Lady Aldley is truly grand, and I admit that can intimidate a girl from the country. I should just say that Lord Aldley made me feel more at ease.”

  Miss Delacroix sat straight again. “Yes, well, I have heard that he is very much the kindly gentleman in his ways. I do not believe he would ever attempt to rub anyone's nose in their own inferiority of rank.”

  “Why yes, I believe you must be right.” It was probably not entirely true. But Lydia endured the barb with complacence, because she knew it proceeded from Miss Delacroix's frustration at having never met the earl.

  “And did he ask you to dance, or was he as utterly bewitched with Miss Dervish as Miss Delacroix's brother was?” Tilly was not letting the matter drop.

  Miss Delacroix fluttered her lashes slightly at this question, but said nothing.

  “So you knew that Miss Dervish was to attend?” Lydia did not conceal her surprise. “I did not. I had not known she was acquainted with Lady Goodram.”

  She was aching to talk to Tilly about Mr. Delacroix's unsupportable behaviour, but she could hardly discuss it in front of Miss Delacroix. She did not wish even to mention his presence, for fear of embarrassing her with the news that her brother had intruded upon a ball to which he had not been invited. If it were, indeed, news to her.

  “I do not believe they are well acquainted. I understand Lady Goodram arranged an introduction because she wanted to meet the famed beauty, and only invited her fairly recently. But you are evading my question, I think. He did ask you to dance, did he not? You sly thing.”

  “We danced, yes.” Lydia tried to keep her expression neutral, and not grin stupidly like an infatuated school girl.

  “That is what I mean by a kindly gentleman.” A crease was forming in Miss Delacroix's forehead. “He is very attentive to Lady Goodram, I understand. No doubt she suggested he ask you to dance, and he was kind enough to oblige her.”

  “I do believe he is very fond of Lady Goodram, indeed. Although, in point of fact, Lord Aldley requested the introduction. But then, it is en
tirely possible that she had suggested it to him earlier.” Lydia knew that being agreeable about it would not truly appease, but would only deny Miss Delacroix the one real satisfaction she could take from this conversation, which was to irritate Lydia.

  Miss Delacroix nodded.

  “And how was it? Did he dance well?” Tilly was grinning.

  “Yes. Well, I do not quite recall how he danced, actually, so I suppose he danced well.”

  “That must mean you were talking,” Tilly prompted.

  “I thought it was expected.” Lydia noted the slight swelling of the fine blue veins at Miss Delacroix's throat and hairline.

  “Indeed it is,” agreed Tilly. “Did you discuss anything interesting?”

  “I found it very interesting, though I could hardly tell you what we spoke of. Paris—we spoke of Paris. And for some reason the Ship of Theseus.”

  Tilly laughed.

  “The Ship of What?” Miss Delacroix squinted at Lydia.

  “She means they were discussing philosophical questions.” Tilly continued to chuckle.

  “Ah.” Miss Delacroix, satisfied by this answer, smiled again. “That certainly does not sound like a topic likely to produce strong controversy, at least.”

  “I am glad you think so, for I admit that I have very little idea what is best to talk of, in such cases, for I have never before danced with an earl. We did speak of Almack's at one point.” Lydia could not be so cruel as to mention his remarking upon her eyes, but she would not forget it.

  “Almack's?” Miss Delacroix's superior giggle sounded like a brittle glass bell. “How did you contrive to discuss a gathering which you have never attended?”

  Tilly cocked an inquisitive brow at Lydia, but she was spared further interrogation by the entry of her mother followed by servants carrying several long boxes.

  “Some of the new dresses are completed, my dear! I thought perhaps your friends might like to see them. There is a lovely china blue muslin, with pearl detailing around the bodice, and white rosettes at the sleeve. It is as light as a cloud.”

  Lydia thought it a pity they could not send the dresses back and cancel the orders for the others. The outlay on things for the season must have amounted to a great sum. It would have been much better put into an investment.

  Her mother was beaming happily, so her father must have concealed the worst from her, or perhaps she was concealing it from herself. She did have a way of putting unpleasant things out of her mind.

  As they examined the dresses at length, Lydia smiled and gushed along with the other girls. She would not dampen Mrs. Norwood's enjoyment of the moment, knowing that it would be the last opportunity for her to bask in all the lace and grandiosity of a London season.

  Tilly leaned close to Lydia's ear and whispered, “We must talk later.”

  Indeed they must. Lydia wanted Tilly's advice on what to do about Mr. Delacroix's behaviour. And in her heart she more urgently wished to know what Tilly would make of Lord Aldley's words. The earl had occupied her thoughts almost as much as their recent change of circumstances.

  But it was silliness. He was an earl, no matter how much he wished for an unimpeded view of her eyes. He could go about amusing himself and creating vague expectations amongst the commoners as much as he liked, but marriage was another matter entirely. He would marry above her, certainly.

  And now that her family's prospects were so altered, she did not even have the fortune to attract a suitor of his calibre. For whatever her father might say, she could not keep a dowry that would leave her parents in such straitened circumstances.

  It seemed a perverse fate that right at the moment when she had finally met a man whom she might want to marry, her prospects were so altered as to remove all hope. And yet, she could not help hoping, wishing at least to know him better.

  She had just convinced herself to put any thoughts of Lord Aldley out of her head, when Miss Delacroix asked Lydia's mother, “And have you had any visit from Lady Aldley since Miss Norwood's introduction at our dinner party?”

  “We are not so fortunate as to have the close acquaintance with her ladyship that Lady Delacroix enjoys. But I hope that may change, now that Lydia has been introduced to her, and to Lord Aldley.”

  “I do believe that Lady Aldley's inclinations for acquaintance are somewhat different than her son's.” Miss Delacroix was clearly enjoying her superiority.

  “Yes, that would certainly be quite natural. Sons have their own minds—especially when they become earls.” Mrs. Norwood was smiling, unperturbed.

  Lydia began to wonder if her mother was actually oblivious of Miss Delacroix's spite, or whether she might be rather good at these little battles waged with polite words.

  “We should not set our hopes too high, therefore, Lydia,” her mother continued. “The mother may never call upon us, even though her son dances with you twice, though he leaves before the dinner break.” Mrs. Norwood played with a violet in the flower vase.

  “Twice.” Miss Delacroix looked, for a fleeting moment, as though she had just tapped open a rotten egg.

  “Oh yes, did not Lydia tell you? You should not play so coy, my dear.” Her mother sniffed the violet.

  “I do not mean to be coy, Mama. Only I did not realize it was of any great import.” Lydia wondered to herself if she had missed a key signal from the earl. All these hidden meanings in the things the ton said and did were like a secret code to her.

  Tilly looked from Mrs. Norwood to Miss Delacroix to Lydia, and her petite, full lips curved impishly. “Oh, it is not of such great import, at all, is it Miss Delacroix? But it is a very good sign.”

  “Yes, perhaps.” Miss Delacroix rose. “Well, I see I have stayed longer than is civil for a morning call. I beg you will forgive me.”

  “Nothing of the sort. I enjoy so much having you young ladies over. It brings me back to my own days as a girl enjoying the London season. Please give my greetings to your mother, Miss Delacroix.”

  “Indeed I shall. You will look very pretty in your dresses, Miss Norwood. Thank you for showing them to me.”

  Lydia remarked to herself that Miss Delacroix had a very useful knack of becoming increasingly polite as she grew more irked by a conversation. Mrs. Norwood rang for the servant to see Miss Delacroix out.

  “If you are not needed at home, Miss Ravelsham, would you stay to some nuncheon?” Her mother was all beneficent smiles. “If your mother needs the carriage, I can send you back in ours, so you may change before you and Lydia go for your outing.”

  “That is very kind of you to offer, Mrs. Norwood. But I am afraid I must go call on Mrs. DeGroen. However, I shall certainly return this afternoon, for it looks to be a lovely day for a walk in the park.”

  By the time Lydia and Tilly arrived at the park, Lydia was fairly bursting to speak to Tilly, but she wandered quietly through the fragrant grasses and trees until they were out of earshot of the servants.

  “I have something to tell you,” they both blurted out in heated whispers.

  “I must speak first.” Tilly was determined. “I called on the Delacroix ladies on Friday, and Miss Delacroix was quite beside herself. No doubt she would not have spoken of it to me, had I not come upon her shortly after the events, but apparently—”

  “Is it her brother? Has he done something to Miss Dervish?”

  “Good heavens, no! I believe you have been reading too many novels—though I am loathe to let the words pass my lips. In fact, forget that I said that. You should read more novels. Only do not take them to represent the secret lives of those around you. There are a few supremely sordid people, but only a very few are that interesting, I assure you.” Tilly seemed disappointed by this state of affairs.

  However, she rallied herself and continued. “In any case, do you want to hear the story or not? Of course you do. So, as I was saying, apparently Lady Delacroix had just dismissed Miss Delacroix's abigail—a faithful family servant and companion to Miss Delacroix these six years.”


  “I can understand her distress at the loss of such a companion. But why on earth would her ladyship dismiss the abigail?”

  “Quite. That, indeed, is the material question. And the answer is that this young woman, Marie, if we are to believe that is her real name, was suspected to have stolen a pair of her ladyship's earrings—marquise cut rubies set 'round with diamonds. Miss Delacroix had just borrowed them for a dinner engagement, and therefore they were rather accessibly sitting upon her dressing table.”

  “Such conduct from a long trusted servant! Is it possible?” Lydia was astounded.

  “Possible, of course, but exceedingly unlikely. Have you encountered Marie?” Tilly rolled her eyes. “She is sweet and loyal, and as dull-witted as a ball of yarn. The very thought of it is entirely absurd, as any member of the household should know. Which makes me think that Lady Delacroix has another reason for dismissing Marie, or else that she is trying to conceal from the household the identity of the true thief. Or if we are very lucky, both.”

  “And how should that make us lucky?”

  “Why it smacks of a scandal delicious enough to compensate even for the tedium and endless tiny implied insults that are our lot in calling on Miss Delacroix. You are even more at risk than I, now that you have engaged the interest of Lord Aldley. She will jealously seethe against you, but insist upon increasing the acquaintance in the hopes of gaining more intelligence about, or perhaps even meeting, her quarry.”

  “Do you really think I have engaged his interest?” A little ray of hope pierced the cloud around Lydia's heart.

  “Quite possibly. A lady of some rank might take a second dance at such a ball as a sign that a gentleman intended to press his suit.”

  “I did not say it before.” Lydia could not help blushing. “But his lordship expressed a desire that I should not look away, so that he might have a view of my eyes.”

  “Oh my. That is something.”

  “I thought so, too.” Lydia looked down at the grass. “But I am not of the quality. Might he not be merely amusing himself with a meaningless flirtation?”