Letitia Or The Convalescent Heart

by Catherine Bowness

  “It is very kind of your lordship, but I do not wish to put you to so much trouble,” Aspasia said.

  The truth was that she had grown accustomed not only to the absence of her husband but also to the uncertainty of her position. There had been no need to think about him at all for some years and she was by no means convinced that she wished to open up a matter which it seemed to her had been more or less buried for a long time.

  “Oh, if I were you, I would accept his offer,” the Countess said. “Next time he goes to London – which will be very soon I should imagine because he will not be able to stay away from Lady Vanston for long – he may as well do something useful for somebody else! My dear Mrs Ripley, you may not wish to marry again – and I am sure I don’t in the least blame you for taking such a stand upon the matter – but surely it would be beneficial to know whether he is dead or not. In any event, if he is dead, will there not be some money due to you? You mentioned living in straitened circumstances – who knows, perhaps you are a rich woman!”

  “I do not think that likely, my lady. He did not come from a particularly elevated background – indeed, I think it was that more than anything else which so disposed my family against him.”

  The Countess pursed her lips and directed a penetrating stare at the guest.

  “Did you run away with him?”

  “Yes – and my brother was proved right for he was not at all a good man and turned out to be a gravely incompetent – as well as disagreeable - husband.”

  “Did you have any children?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that may have been a good thing – but equally it may not because presumably there is a male heir somewhere who will no doubt try to lay claim to the estate.”

  “There is no estate.”

  “Dear me! Was he very handsome, my dear?”

  This naïve question immediately brought Mr Ripley’s face to Aspasia’s mind, this time without the scorn or anger which she had come to associate with it but, instead, embellished with one of his early tender and conciliating expressions, so that she said with a little downturn of her mouth, “Yes, I own he was.”

  Chapter 10

  “As was Archibald before he was injured,” the Countess said with a sour look in the Earl’s direction.

  “Shall we begin?” he asked, ignoring her ladyship’s comment and fanning out the cards on the table. “I suggest Mama and I partner each other, as usual, and the two of you can oppose us. Shall we cut for deal?”

  Everyone obediently took a card and Aspasia, who drew the ace of spades, began to deal with the other pack while the Earl gathered up the first set and began to shuffle them again.

  The game proceeded in such a way that it would have been difficult to be certain that the cards had been arranged in order to favour the Earl and his mother for they did not by any means win every hand; however, as the evening wore on, they began to pull ahead so that eventually Aspasia threw in her hand and said, “I fear all that travelling was excessively fatiguing; I believe I will retire.”

  “I don’t suppose you like losing,” the Countess observed with a sharp look.

  “Oh, I do not mind,” Aspasia retorted. “I did not expect to win.”

  “I daresay that’s one of the reasons your husband bolted: you give up too soon.”

  “Are you funning or do you truly think that is why he left?” she asked, interested in spite of herself in the Countess’s opinion, which so far had struck her as so cynical that she had begun to wonder, not only what sort of a man the Earl’s father had been, but also what sort of a husband the present one might prove to be. Having bitter experience of the misery a wife could suffer if her husband turned out to be disagreeable, she was concerned about what her niece’s future might hold.

  “It’s my belief that he left for the very opposite reason: I would not give up and he grew tired of trying to force me to obey him.”

  “Oh, you should always pretend to obey,” the Countess said, fixing her guest with a scornful eye. “If you want to be admired for disputation you should have chosen to be a mistress rather than a wife. Men find a certain amount of argument positively stimulating but do not care for it in a wife.”

  “Perhaps,” Aspasia assented, realising that in running away with Mr Ripley as soon as he suggested it, she might have given him an erroneous impression of the sort of woman she was. Once married, he had taken particular exception to those aspects of her character which he had previously found attractive, not least her rebellious nature which, once she had been cast out by her family, had no object but him against whom to rebel.

  “Come, Mama, Mrs Ripley is fatigued; you must allow her to retire,” the Earl said gently, rising and assisting Aspasia to stand up by pulling out her chair.

  “Good night, my dear,” the Countess said.

  “Good night, my lady. I enjoyed the game,” Aspasia returned. “Are you coming, Letty?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Letty jumped up, sketched a curtsey to the Dowager and went with her aunt to the door, which the Earl opened.

  “Would you like me to send Baxter to you?” he asked.

  “Oh, no, I am sure we can manage, but some hot water would be appreciated,” Aspasia returned.

  “Certainly. I will order it at once. Good night.”

  He kissed their hands and closed the door behind them.

  When they reached their own quarters, the two women threw themselves down upon the sofas and sighed.

  “Lord, what an evening!” Aspasia exclaimed.

  “She seemed to grow quite fond of you,” Letty said.

  “Didn’t she? I think she identified with another woman who has suffered at the hands of a man although she struck me very much as the sort of female who would get her own back. I am not sure whether her quarrel with his lordship is on account of the way his father behaved or because she dislikes Frederick himself, but I own I am quite shocked by the way she needles him, although I am impressed by the degree of patience with which he endures it. What did you think? Are you still intending to marry him?”

  “I don’t know,” Letty said, frowning. “I accepted because I thought he would do, would provide me with a means of escape from which Papa would not attempt to haul me back – but I own I am by no means sure I could live in the same house as Lady Stonegate. And, now that I know Archie is not married - and is not living very far away – I do not see how I can.”

  She shook herself, attempting perhaps to throw off the conundrum with which Lord Archibald’s return, unmarried, had presented her.

  “Why does she not move in with Archie, do you suppose?” she asked, not really expecting an answer but still bent on avoiding the much more pressing question of how she was to deal with the brothers.

  “Perhaps he will not have her and, in any event, she is already ensconced here. I should think it might be difficult to remove her and wonder whether Stonegate is hoping that is one of the things you will achieve for him.”

  “You mean he is marrying me in order to get rid of his stepmother?” Letty laughed at this but not in a way that indicated much amusement.

  “Well, it would not be so unreasonable, would it, since you are marrying him to escape from your stepmother?”

  “Yes, but he is a man. I own I will not have much opinion of him if he cannot send her away without resorting to marrying a female for whom he has no affection.”

  “Do you think men can do whatever they like?” Aspasia asked, humouring her niece.

  “No, of course not; there are some things which I suppose the law does not permit but everything else – yes, I do think men can do more or less what they want – and I think it very unfair!” she added on a childishly petulant note.

  “Yes, it is. But do not forget that there are a number of things which we are spared – such as fighting in wars.”

  “Oh, Aunt, what do you think has happened to Archie? I know Stonegate told us something about it but …”

  “I would no
t like to speculate but it sounds as if he has been badly injured – possibly in a permanent way. I think you should prepare yourself for what you may see tomorrow. But, Letty, what I meant when I asked if you were still bent on marrying Stonegate, was: now that you know your Archie is so close, do you truly think it sensible to wed his brother?”

  Letty frowned and sighed. “I have said that I will,” was all she replied and her aunt, seeing how uncomfortable the question made her, desisted for neither knew what would transpire upon the morrow.

  When they rose the next morning, the sun was shining and the small portion of sky which they could see through the narrow windows was that heavenly washed blue that English skies frequently display on fine days in late spring.

  Hot water was brought by the bucketful along with cups of chocolate.

  It was clear to Aspasia when Letty eventually emerged from her chamber that she had taken some trouble with her dress and supposed this was in honour of Lord Archibald. She wore a figured muslin gown and had tied up her hair with a matching ribbon. Aspasia was in French navy trimmed with cherry red ribbons, a colour which flattered her complexion and contrasted delightfully with her tawny hair.

  Breakfast was served in what was described as the ‘small’ dining room, which was indeed less huge than the room in which they had eaten the night before but could hardly be described as small. The Earl was already there and greeted his guests with a warm smile and an enquiry as to how they had slept. Receiving reassurance on this last point that their beds had been extraordinarily comfortable and the only sounds to disturb them had been birdsong, he drew out their chairs and helped them to a substantial breakfast.

  “My mother does not normally join us so early,” he said. “She lives in the North Tower, which is by way of being the Dower House, and takes most of her meals there - and always breakfast.”

  “Will she be accompanying us to Lord Archibald’s?” Aspasia asked.

  “Oh, yes, I think so,” the Earl replied. “She will not miss an opportunity to see him if she can help it.”

  “But surely she could go any time?”

  “Yes, of course she could; there is always a carriage at her disposal but she does not seem to like to go without me. I suspect she feels so much distress when she sees him that she likes to have me there to absorb some of it.”

  This explanation did nothing to improve Aspasia’s expectation of the visit. She thought that the Countess would very likely take every opportunity to hit out at the Earl and was afraid that Letty would also find it difficult to restrain herself. It was perfectly possible, the aunt thought, that she too would round upon the Earl and accuse him of trying to kill Archie by obtaining the commission.

  They set off an hour after breakfast in a closed carriage for, although the weather at present could hardly have been more favourable, there was always the danger of the small clouds which could be perceived in the distant west growing larger and turning black. The Earl did not sit with them – understandably, Aspasia thought, but rode beside the carriage.

  The Countess seemed subdued this morning and Aspasia found herself wondering if she was keeping her powder dry until they arrived. She did not look happy but sat with pursed lips and a heavy frown upon her face. Aspasia and Letty occupied themselves once again with making comments about the country through which they were passing and how it differed from that to which they were accustomed further north.

  “I came from up there, you know,” the Countess suddenly said. “I was born in Northumberland.”

  “Goodness! Do you miss it?” Aspasia asked.

  “It is so long since I was there that I have almost forgotten it,” the Dowager replied. “It is very pretty hereabouts but to my mind almost excessively soft. The Castle is so comfortable that one hardly notices the seasons – all are the same.”

  “But it must be agreeable not to be subject to the discomforts of a northern winter, which can be quite extreme,” Aspasia murmured.

  “Yes, I suppose it is but, if you never experience the worst aspects of winter, it is sometimes hard to appreciate the joy of spring – particularly when the windows are so small.”

  Aspasia laughed. “But you could sit outside, could you not? I understand there is a garden which must be wonderfully protected by the walls.”

  “Indeed; but it is not large and is very much overlooked by all those little windows. I am sure the servants stare out when they should be getting on with their work.”

  Aspasia was surprised that the Countess should even notice such a thing as she had not struck her as a person much inclined to sensibility.

  “I am sure they are all far too busy,” she murmured.

  “Nonsense! They’re an idle lot. Stonegate employs too many of them so that most of the time they have nothing to do. I have told him that he should send some to help poor Archibald, who has an inadequate staff.”

  “Would it not – forgive me, but if Archibald is so ill, would it not be better if he stayed at the Castle, at least for the time being?”

  “Of course it would!” the Countess exclaimed, becoming red with vexation. “But Stonegate will not allow it! Oh, I know he keeps saying he thinks he should come back – but he does not mean it, not by any means. He hates Archibald!”

  “But – I understand your quarters are by way of being the Dower House – could he not live there with you for the time being? I am sure it would be a comfort to him to be near his mother.”

  “You would think so, wouldn’t you?” the Countess almost spat. “But he will not! He insists that he must be independent and that, if he is ever to get better, he must live in his own house. He was in the Castle when he first came back but it did not answer – there were endless arguments which did him no good at all. It was for his health’s sake that I insisted he remove to his own house.”

  “I see.” Aspasia closed her lips. She still did not in the least understand why the Countess could not stay with her son but, having seen how vexed the older woman became at the least suggestion of any rearrangement of lodgings and how her version of the reason for her son’s removal did not in any degree tally with the Earl’s, decided that silence was the wisest option. She was beginning to think that the Countess was inclined to accuse others of her own faults and suspected that the arguments had been not so much between the brothers as between Lord Archibald and his mother.

  While this discussion was taking place, Letty said nothing, gazing expressionlessly out of the window. Aspasia did not think she was indifferent but rather that she had learned to be wary of engaging in any sort of conversation which might lead to a difference of opinion.

  At length the carriage turned in at a pair of iron gates which stood unattended. They were somewhat rusty and one or two of the spokes were missing. The long road up which the carriage proceeded was ill-maintained, the vegetation on both sides being so thick as to put one in mind of a jungle. Grass had colonised much of the surface of a drive which bore little appearance of having been used recently. The whole demesne bore a striking resemblance to the palace where sleeping beauty had slumbered undisturbed for a hundred years. Wild roses, along with quantities of honeysuckle, twined through what might originally have been intended as a hedge on either side.

  Aspasia, glancing at her niece out of the corner of her eye, saw that she too was affected by the atmosphere. When at last the house came into view, it appeared almost as a ruin, partially obliterated by a quantity of plants climbing in a tangled mass over the façade. These included a number of cultivated roses apparently bent on reverting to the wild. The windows – what could be seen of them – were so dirty that, although the sun was shining on that side of the house, they gave back no reflection.

  It was – or had once been about a hundred years before – a handsome edifice, built of brick mellowed to a soft pink. A shallow flight of steps led up to the front door and it was before this unpainted entrance that the carriage at length drew up.

  No one came to open it or to take the Earl�
��s horse. He dismounted, throwing the reins over the top of the balustrade.

  “I will see if I can draw someone’s attention to our arrival,” he told the three in the carriage and trod up the steps to beat a heavy tattoo upon the door.

  It was several minutes before, with a creak which could be heard from inside the carriage, the door swung open to reveal an old man whose clothes looked neither clean nor intact; there were buttons missing from his coat and a split in his breeches revealed one bony knee. This individual, raising his head with difficulty from contemplation of his own feet, recognised the Earl and broke into a beatific smile, swiftly followed by an obeisance which the watchers from the carriage feared might render him unable to stand upright again afterwards.

  “Good morning, Oliphant,” Stonegate said, returning the smile. “You were expecting us, were you not?”

  “Indeed, my lord. I apologise for its having taken so long for me to get to the door – I was engaged in tidying the house prior to your arrival. Don’t want to give your fiancée the wrong impression, do we, my lord?” he added in an undertone clearly meant to be inaudible from the carriage.

  “I am sure she will perfectly understand the difficulties inherent in running such a large place with an inadequate staff,” his lordship said gently.

  “I will assist the ladies to alight,” the servitor said, beginning to make his way carefully down the steps towards the carriage.

  “Oh, you need not trouble yourself with that,” the Earl responded at once. “I will get them out of the carriage but perhaps you would be so good as to call Jim to attend to my horse.”

  “Yes, my lord. I will see to it at once.”

  “Thank you. How is Lord Archibald?”

  The ladies in the carriage did not hear the answer to this enquiry as it was delivered in an even lower voice than the previous confidence but the look which accompanied the words was not encouraging.

  A moment later the driver of their carriage opened the door and let down the steps so that the Earl was able to assist the three women to alight.