by Amanda Scott
“Foolishness, sir?” she muttered. “I know you think that Dorinda did something dreadful tonight, but I am not by any means certain it was entirely her fault, for his lordship has never shown any displeasure in her company and has, in fact, smiled and laughed with her as he does with no one else.”
“Poppycock,” Vellacott said. “He don’t seek the chit out, never has. ’Tis you he likes, my girl, and you ought to know it. And if he don’t like you, it can be only because you have done your best of late to put him off. If he don’t want to marry Dorinda, he’ll soon find a way out, you mark my words.”
“But he cannot. Even when he found himself betrothed to me, he did not try to get out of it. He was angry because I cried off, not because he wanted to marry me but because he feared I would injure my reputation, and he was at pains to see that I did not. He will not want Dorinda ruined either. Nor will the duke. He made himself quite clear, sir. You heard him.”
“Oh, aye, and vastly entertaining it was too. To think of Fox being there! Was there ever such a thing? But that lad is no milk-toothed boy, m’ dear. He’s a man with a mind of his own, and you can be certain he will find a way out if he wants it.”
Crawley had been silent, but now he said quietly, “He might be able to manage, Mr. Vellacott, but he would have to estrange himself from his father to do so, and I am by no means certain that he is willing to do that. He generally wants nothing more than to please his father. Josh has long wanted to take a hand in the family affairs, but whenever he has offered a suggestion, the duke has said he ought to leave it to those who know their business best. Josh has never gone against him before, you see, and I doubt he will now. We may have to put our heads together, to think if there is any way we can help him out of this mess.”
“No,” Gillian said sharply. When Crawley looked at her in surprise, she said, “You must not help anymore, sir. You will only make matters worse. Pray, heed my wishes.”
He spoke soothingly, but he did not actually promise that he would leave the marquess to manage his own affairs. A few moments later their carriage came to a halt. They could not so much as see the flagway or the houses beyond it. Their carriage was entirely cut off from the world by the fog. Crawley leaned out and spoke to the driver.
“What is this delay?”
“Accident ahead, sir. Nothing very serious, just a tangle. Daresay they didn’t see each other for the fog. It’s thick as cotton wool out here. I didn’t ought to have come this way, sir, but I thought we’d avoid some of the traffic from the theaters and Piccadilly if we cut along lower down. Forgot it would only get thicker by the river. Sorry, sir.”
“That’s all right. We are not in any great hurry. If you need to call up a link boy to light the way for you, do so.”
“Aye, sir,” the coachman said.
They were on their way again not long after that, and if the journey was not as quick as Gillian might have wished, she did not really mind. She liked Crawley and felt safe in his company, and her uncle provided a buffer so that she might talk only when she wished to. Her thoughts were in a jumble. She knew now that she loved Thorne, and she knew, too, despite what the others thought, that there would be nothing anyone could do to make matters better. Dorinda would marry the marquess, because Dorinda was determined to do so and because Estrid and the duke would see that no one interfered with this betrothal.
They reached Park Street to discover the others there ahead of them, and to Gillian’s surprise the house was in an uproar. The disturbance appeared to have nothing to do with Dorinda’s betrothal, however, for Blalock greeted them at the door with the information that Miss Clementina had been took real bad with the influenza and they’d had to have the doctor for the baby as well.
“Influenza!” Gillian exclaimed, looking at him in horror. “But people die of influenza!”
“Oh, aye, they do,” Blalock said, “but if I may be so bold, m’lady, the case is not so dire as that. To be sure, there was some concern earlier, what with Miss Prynne and Miss Casey both insisting the doctor should be sent for at once, but a saline draught produced excellent results in both patients and the doctor assures us that they both will survive the ordeal. Not but what her ladyship was put into a rare passion when she learned that the little one was ill. Turned pale as death herself, she did. And his lordship was in a pucker as well.”
“His lordship? Is my father at home, then?”
“Yes, m’lady. Everyone is in the third drawing room. But it isn’t so much having sickness in the house, if I might say so, m’lady, as ... well, it is not my position to say ...”
“Blalock, for the love of heaven, what is it?”
“Well, my lady, if I might put the matter delicately, his lordship were a trifle put out before ever he learned there was sickness in the house. His last words before he ordered Lady Marrick to come to him the moment she assured herself of her children’s well-being were that it needed only this! I am sure I had no notion of what he meant, however.”
Glancing at her companions, Gillian began to thank them for their escort, but Vellacott cut her off at once.
“If you think we are going to miss any of this, you just think again, my girl. You might find yourself in need of a champion or two, in any case. If Marrick is put out, he won’t like the fact that you didn’t come home with the others.”
“He probably will not have noticed, sir,” she said.
They entered the drawing room in the midst of what was only too clearly a confrontation between Marrick and his lady. Dorinda stood to one side, apparently trying to make herself invisible, and Marrick was bellowing at the top of his lungs. Gillian had expected to find Dawlish, Corbin, and even Thorne there, but none of them were present.
Marrick shouted, “A fine thing, madam, for your husband to learn in a club card room of your doings, from not one helpful friend but three! You will cease to pretend you know nothing of this business and tell me a round tale, or by God—”
“Or by God, what, sir?” Estrid demanded, arms akimbo. “Here I arrive home to find my children at death’s door—your heir, I might remind you—and do you care for their safety? No, sir, you make wild accusations about your wife. And in front of your daughter at that—your daughter, I might remind you, who has just this night become betrothed to the Marquess of Thorne.”
Marrick waved this news off with a rude gesture. “The devil take the marquess. If Dorinda thinks to wed him, she is all about in her head. From what I’ve seen, that young man likes nothing better than to see a young woman make a cake of herself over him and then send her packing. I want to know about you, madam, and that damned fellow you were dancing with all night at Ranelagh. And I’ll have a round tale, or by God, you’ll rue the day!”
Gillian had stopped with the others upon the threshold, and at these words she felt Vellacott start beside her. She looked at him, but he was watching Marrick. Crawley was silent. Gillian saw Dorinda gazing at her with a look of triumph in her eyes, and was conscious of an urge to stride across the room and strangle her. She repressed it and turned her attention firmly to Estrid, who was fairly sputtering in her fury.
“You dare to threaten me, sir! You dare! Well, I would have preferred to make a private conversation of this, for I am not one to wash my linen in public, but you have asked for a round tale, and so you shall have one. You, sir, married me only because I would not go to your bed without you first put a ring on my finger, and once we were wed, I kept my part of the bargain by providing you with the heir you had wanted for so long. And what was my reward for that? Neglect, sir, that is what! You scarcely even stop to pass the time of day, let alone to talk to me. You ignore your son, and you ignore your estates, leaving everything to your daughter to run. And you deceived me, sir, letting me believe you were wealthier than what you are, never telling me that full half of what I thought was yours was your daughter’s, so that I made a complete fool of myself.”
“Look here, Estrid, we are not talking about me,” the earl sai
d, red to his ears as he became aware of his increased audience. “I questioned your maid, and what did I discover but that you’ve been sneaking out of the house at night to make some sort of damned assignation with the fellow. I won’t have it. By God, I won’t! Who the devil is your lover?”
“I wouldn’t tell you if I knew,” she cried. “He is not my lover, for all that, but merely a kind and charming gentleman who tells me I am beautiful and thoughtful, and a wonderful person. He tells me things I need to hear from someone, sir, and since I never hear them from you, why I shall continue to—”
“But in a graveyard, Estrid? For the love of God, can you not find a better place to meet than that?”
“Indeed, sir, I met him tonight, as your friends have so kindly informed you, and it was delightful to be held in a man’s arms and have him whisper lovely things in my ear.”
“’Tis for your husband to whisper such things!” the earl bellowed. “Now, listen to me, Estrid—”
“When was the last time you whispered such things, my lord? When? I want a man who will take care of me, who won’t expect me to look after everything myself. And if I have to find him outside my own home, at least I have found some pleasure—”
“By God, I’ll kill the villain. He’s no business to be making love to my wife, and so I’ll tell him, and as for you—”
“Marrick, wait,” Vellacott said quietly.
Gillian, standing in mute shock and having been wishing for the past few minutes that she were anywhere else, turned sharply to look at her uncle. From the moment Estrid had mentioned a graveyard, she had suspended her thoughts, not daring to allow the one tickling the back of her mind to take form. But now, looking at her uncle, she knew what he would say.
“I am the devil you seek,” he told the earl.
Estrid gasped.
“By God, sir,” Marrick said furiously, “if I had my sword—”
“I’d hope you would keep it sheathed,” Vellacott said, smiling at him, in no way abashed by his anger. “I am in the habit, as you know, of visiting my first wife’s grave whenever I come to London. I did so the night I arrived, and I came upon a beautiful woman who was there to visit her first husband. She did not know me. The graveyard was very dark. I spoke quietly when I first made known my presence, and I did not introduce myself. I did not know her until I heard her speak later in this house, when I confess, I was ripe for mischief. She has never known my identity. She was lonely and I provided a bit of romance, but there was nothing out of the way. If you wish to mend matters, you have only to escort her yourself henceforth.”
Marrick was perfectly still for a moment when Vellacott finished speaking, and no one else said a word. Then, turning to his wife, the earl said, “Forgive me, Estrid. Since I shouted my mistaken beliefs at you in front of all these people, I will do you the courtesy to say here and now that it was not only that I wanted you in my bed. I fell in love with you, madam, with your frank, open ways, and with your incredible beauty.” He cast a quick glance at Gillian, then added, “I loved my first wife very much, but her father was not a man I could like. Vellacott made it plain from the outset that he had no faith in his daughter’s choice of a husband. He was willing to indulge her but not to trust me with his lands or his money. So he tied everything up in her and her children and sent his own man to keep watch over everything. I soon fell out of the habit of attempting to call any of the tunes for myself, even where my own was concerned. I grew instead into the habit of letting her have her own way, of letting Hollingston do as he pleased, and later of allowing Gillian to take over where her mother had left off. Then, when you wanted to run things in the house, it just seemed as if it was all too much for me. I didn’t know how to call the tunes anymore by then, so I felt trapped between the two of you.”
“Well, my lord,” Estrid said in an acid tone, “it’s not been so easy for me, either, if you must know. After all, I had lived with a man who ordered everything, whose servants treated me as if I were a duchess, and who never let me want for anything until he had the misfortune to die and all his fortune was found to be entailed, with only a widow’s jointure to keep me and my girls. When you tumbled onto my doorstep, it was as if Providence had dropped you there. I’ll tell you to your face, it wouldn’t have mattered then if you had been a Gypsy. I’d have taken you once I learned you were wealthy, but as it chances, I ... well, I found I loved you, too, and that’s the word with no bark on it.”
Marrick looked at the others. “If you will have the goodness to excuse us, I believe my wife and I have private matters to discuss. As for you, Vellacott, your mischief here is done. My wife will not require your kindness anymore.”
To Gillian’s surprise her uncle chuckled. “Do you mean to bar me from the house, Marrick?”
“No, no,” the earl said. “I believe you’ve done me a service, so you will always be welcome, but you’ll have to visit your Millie’s grave alone. Come, my dear,” he added to Estrid, “we will continue this discussion in your boudoir, I think.”
When they had gone, Gillian said quietly, “The word with no bark on it, that’s what Estrid said, and that is what should be the case with all of us. Dorinda, I want to talk to you!”
“Well, I do not want to talk to you,” Dorinda said. She had stood staring at her mother and stepfather with wide eyes, but now, with Gillian advancing angrily upon her, she gathered her forces to meet the attack, saying hastily, “It is no good looking at me like that. You had every chance with him. You like plain speaking, so I shall tell you to your head that you were a fool to let him go. He may not be as handsome as Corbin or as pretty behaved, but he is a marquess, and he has money. You didn’t want him, so you need not think you can keep me from taking him.”
“You tricked him! It is as clear as can be that somehow you played a may game with those notes that were sent to us, and you certainly turned your domino inside out, for I saw that with my own eyes. It will not do, Dorinda.”
“Do you think he does not like me, Gillian?” Dorinda demanded, and when Gillian could not answer her, she added, “There, you see, you know he does. And furthermore, I will have you know that he escorted us home, he and Lord Dawlish. That ridiculous Corbin went off in a huff. And Thorne was as kind as could be. He said he would come round to discuss matters tomorrow, so you see he will want to be talking of settlements, and I shall certainly not deny him the pleasure.” And before Gillian could say another word, she turned and left the room.
“So much for that,” Crawley murmured.
Gillian turned ruefully to the two men. “What an arch-wife I must appear to be. I do apologize. And though I confess that I do not know whether I am on my head or on my heels, does not this little scene we have just witnessed prove that plain speaking is truly the best way? Had they not said all they did to each other, my father and Estrid would still be traveling on different roads.” She sighed. “I declare, if I had any sense whatever, after all this, I would marry the first man willing to swear an oath always to tell me precisely what was in his mind!”
Crawley promptly fell to his knees and put his hand over his heart. “Permit me to tell you that I am that man, dear lady. I tell you flat out that I want to marry you only for the sake of your vast fortune and all it can do for my humble self.”
“Don’t be so absurd, sir,” she begged.
“Aha,” he said, getting to his feet, “so you have learned nothing whatever from all this and still offer a man Spanish coin. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
Stung more than she cared to admit by his careless words, she said, “The notion tempts me, sir. Indeed it does, for I swear I mean it when I say I prefer candor to equivocation.”
“Precisely my point,” Crawley said. “’Tis why I repeat the obvious fact that your fortune would make it possible for me to live in the style I like best. You cannot marry Thorne, after all, for no amount of plain speaking will change what has come to pass this night. The duke will not allow him to create another scand
al, and for him to jilt your sister would certainly cause one. I do not ask for your answer at once, but I do ask you to consider it.” His tone gentled considerably when he added, “You will be happier in a household of your own than if you must continue to live with your stepmother after Dorinda has married Thorne. Just one more moment, Vellacott, and I will come with you, but I want to say first, my lady, that I will return first thing tomorrow morning to see if you are a woman of your word.”
Certain now that he was serious, Gillian took care not to offend him, saying only that she would think carefully on the matter. The two men took their leave then, but Vellacott turned back long enough to say, “Don’t dismiss him out of hand, m’ dear. Only think what your life will be like if you refuse him.”
She did and her thoughts were not pleasant. She went upstairs to look in on Clementina, and found Meggie sitting beside her bed.
“Go away, Miss Gillian. It wouldn’t do for you to catch it from her. She’ll do. She’s sleeping like a lamb now, and the little one will get better as well. Go to sleep yourself.”
Instead Gillian went to try to have it out again with Dorinda, but it was no use. Dorinda not only refused to let her in, but shrieked at her through the door that she meant to be a marchioness and live in a fine country house, and that was that.
Alone in her own bed, Gillian stared at the ceiling for a long time, thinking about what a mull she had made of her life through not having had the courage of her convictions, just as Thorne had said. She had been a fool, she thought, to insist upon crying off before finding out what his true feelings were—at least, she had if his friends were right—just as he had been a fool in so many more ways. Counting them, she sank deeper and deeper into depression until at last she cried herself to sleep, and when she awoke the following morning, she discovered that somehow, overnight, she had decided to accept Crawley’s offer.
