Letitia Or The Convalescent Heart

by Catherine Bowness

  The Countess, her head high and her mouth set in a thin line, made her way into the house, closely followed by Aspasia and Letty.

  Chapter 11

  The inside was dim and chill. Little light came through the windows which, although larger than the arrow slits in the Castle, were almost completely obscured by plants. The carpet was threadbare, the furniture dull and covered with dust so that it was apparent that whatever ‘tidying’ the butler had been engaged on when they arrived had not extended to the use of a duster.

  “Come in, my lady, my lord, Madam, Miss,” Oliphant greeted them, bowing again and making a generous gesture of welcome with his old hands, thin and veined, flapping vaguely in their direction.

  “The house is kept in a disgusting condition,” the Countess observed loudly almost as though she was afraid that Oliphant might not hear her unless the volume was exaggerated.

  “I have offered to send some of my servants to help,” the Earl explained to Aspasia and Letty, “but Archibald will have none of it.”

  “He can’t afford to pay them,” the Countess explained.

  “Mama knows perfectly well that there would be no necessity to give them anything in addition to their usual wages,” the Earl said in a low voice. “The house is a trifle neglected but is not, I think, insalubrious.”

  The Countess uttered a sort of click of dissent but contented herself with sailing past the butler into a saloon which, in its way, was quite as romantic as the outside of the house had promised. It too was festooned with dust as well as cobwebs. The furniture – of which there seemed to be a vast quantity – appeared to have been dumped at the point when the porters had grown tired of carrying it. There was no inviting arrangement of chairs around the fireplace, no sofa reclining in the window and no desk equipped with a chair. All stood as though at a party: an armchair in conversation with a table, a desk crowding a harpsichord and the stool, upon which a player might have sat, some way away next to a chest.

  It was, however, clear that the butler had performed some of his usual duties for, on a table in the middle of the room, stood a tray bearing a bottle of Madeira, one of sherry, a jug of lemonade and several unexpectedly clean glasses of different shapes and sizes. Aspasia thought that the aged retainer must have spent some considerable time polishing them to achieve such a shine in a house where everything else was dull.

  The Earl nodded at Oliphant in dismissal and went to the tray to dispense refreshment.

  “You can give me a glass of Madeira,” her ladyship said. “It may help me to survive the next half hour.”

  “We have invited ourselves to luncheon, Mama,” the Earl reminded her gently. “I believe we will be obliged to remain a little longer than half an hour. What will you have, Mrs Ripley?”

  “Is that lemonade? A glass of that will suit me very well, I believe.”

  Stonegate raised his brows at Letty who nodded. She was very pale and had begun to wring her hands.

  “Sit down,” he said, leading her to a sofa that looked as though it was on its way to the window but had not quite made it. “Would you like me to move this so that you can enjoy a little of the sun?”

  “No, no, I daresay it will be quite comfortable where it is.”

  “I don’t suppose its position affects its comfort precisely except regarding the view – and perhaps the degree of light.”

  “There is very little of that in here,” the Countess said. “I can’t think why someone doesn’t clear the windows of all that greenery. One feels as though one is at the bottom of a river.”

  The Earl had seated Letty and, drawing up a small table beside her, placed her glass upon it, when they all heard the uneven sound of someone infirm approaching.

  “Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you,” the man who could only be Lord Archibald said, at last entering the room. “It takes me some time to make my way from the library, but I have come as quickly as I could. You have made very good time.”

  “It is a beautiful day and the road was dry,” the Earl said.

  “Indeed. Perhaps you would prefer to sit on the terrace since the sun is out. I own I always find this room dispiriting.”

  “It would be perfectly agreeable if you would have all that greenery removed, the windows washed and the furniture polished and arranged more pleasingly,” the Countess said.

  In spite of her defence of her son the previous evening and her continual criticism of the elder brother, she did not look particularly pleased to see Lord Archibald and made no move to embrace him or even to enquire how he did so that Aspasia began to wonder if her ladyship was accustomed to display affection by means of criticism.

  She looked with some curiosity at Lord Archibald. He was a tall young man and must, before he was wounded, have had a fine figure for his shoulders, although stooped, were broad, his legs, encased in pantaloons which were now a little too large, were well-shaped and muscular. She was relieved to observe that he still had all his limbs although one arm was supported in a sling. He walked with a noticeable limp and leaned heavily upon the cane to support his weight.

  “Let me introduce you to Mrs Ripley,” the Earl said. “She is Miss Denton’s aunt. Mrs Ripley: my brother, Lord Archibald Meridew.”

  The young man took Aspasia’s hand and conveyed it to his lips.

  “You are like her,” he said. “Pray make yourself as comfortable as you are able. Mother …”

  Lady Stonegate stood between him and the figure on the sofa so that he was forced to salute her first. He took her hand and kissed it but, as she said nothing encouraging, left her almost immediately.

  “Come, Archibald, let me introduce you to my fiancée whom you may remember,” the Earl said blandly, taking his brother’s arm and leading him towards the girl on the sofa.

  Letty was sitting very straight and still. Her face, which had been almost as white as her gown when the man she had sworn to love for ever had entered the room, had grown red when she heard his voice. From where she was sitting it was possible that she had not yet seen him in any detail – or, in any event, not his face.

  Aspasia, watching the girl, did not think that she was of the same mind now and was – at least initially - relieved for she did not like the idea of her niece marrying such a horribly damaged man and living in a house which looked likely to fall down at the first breath of a summer storm.

  “Indeed; I daresay Miss Denton may not remember me,” Lord Archibald said in a flat tone.

  Letty opened her mouth and closed it again without uttering a sound; it was apparent that she was having some difficulty in keeping her eyes upon her former love’s countenance.

  It looked as if he must have been wounded down one side – cut down and perhaps trampled by his horse - for the damaged leg – whose foot did not quite touch the ground – and the arm bound in a sling against his chest were both on the right, as was the injury to his face. Seeing it, Aspasia was not surprised that neither the Earl nor Lady Stonegate had been able to bring themselves to describe it – and yet, by not doing so, they had undoubtedly contributed to the horror which was writ large across the young face of her niece.

  Major Fielding had perhaps in some small measure prepared the way for the sight of a man whose face must have been laid open to the bone by a sword, but the Major’s scar had already mercifully faded to little more than a thin white line. Lord Archibald’s was still puckered and differed noticeably in colour from the rest of his smooth, even complexion. It ran all the way from his temple to his chin, distorting the corner of his mouth into a displeasing leer. He wore a black patch over his right eye, the cloth tied carelessly around the back of his head with a knot.

  “My lord,” she managed in a thread of a voice, standing and putting out her hand with distressingly obvious reluctance. Her fingers touched his briefly before she withdrew it.

  He stepped back, clearly feeling the rebuff, and turned away, shuffling back towards his mother whose reception of him was not dissimilar. Her lips were pressed toge
ther as though she was afraid some contamination might pass from him to her and her eyes slid away.

  “The colour is improving,” the Earl said brightly, stepping quickly between his brother and Letty - whether to protect him from her pitying, horrified glance or her from the sight of the mutilated face - Aspasia was uncertain.

  “Really?” Lord Archibald asked, sarcastically. “You were ever the optimist, Frederick. I cannot perceive any change.”

  The Earl nodded. “The skin looks smoother and less angry. It is noticeably paler than when I last saw you.”

  Archie said nothing but poured himself a glass of Madeira with his left hand, put the bottle down and lifted the glass to his lips before moving away to sit some distance from Letty in the shadows on the other side of the room.

  “I still wish you would consent to move back into the Castle,” the Earl continued, following his brother.

  “Why?”

  “It’s my opinion that you need to be taken care of properly; living here on your own cannot be good for your health.”

  “There is nothing the matter with my health other than the fact that I have lost half my body,” Lord Archibald replied. “I am quite well in most respects.”

  “You exaggerate which, to my mind, shows how low you are in spirit; allowing the blue devils to take possession of you will not help your recovery.”

  “I do not anticipate much further recovery,” his brother contradicted. “Yes, yes, I know what you have said – what you say every time you see me - that the slice to my face will fade a bit more but I do not expect my hand or arm to regain any more use than they have at the moment. I believe the nerves to have been cut – and my appearance will remain ghastly even if the colour improves.”

  “It is barely two years since you were injured,” the Earl said. “These things take time and you must not despair.”

  “Must I not? When the young woman who once swore to love me for ever can hardly bear to look at me and when even my mother flinches at my appearance?”

  “What’s that?” the Countess asked. “What are you saying, Archibald?”

  “Were you not aware, Mother, that the young woman – how pretty she is by the way – who is now affianced to my brother was once sworn to me?”

  “No!” she exclaimed. “I thought you met when she was a child. Why was I not told of this? And how dare you snatch my son’s love from beneath his eyes, no doubt waving your title before her dazzled senses?” This accusation was spat at the Earl, who did not reply.

  Getting into her stride, the Countess rose from the chair into which she had sunk when Archie moved away and began to berate Letty, who cringed before her. “And how dare you, young woman, abandon my son for the Earl? You do not know what Stonegate is like – nor of what he is capable – how he has done his best to kill Archibald from the time he was born.”

  “Eye,” Archie corrected, interrupting the diatribe. “Pray hold your tongue, Mother. Miss Denton, you have made a wise choice; my mother dislikes Frederick; she is prejudiced against him because he is the elder and not hers. She has never become reconciled to the fact that he refused to die as a child, in spite of having an uncertain digestion which frequently confined him to his bed. But she is wrong about his character and his conduct towards me. He has never been other than loving and protective except over the small matter of knocking me down the day you and I set off for Scotland. Even then, I am persuaded he thought he was protecting me from contracting an unwise alliance with a schoolgirl.”

  “I thought he was protecting me,” Letty muttered.

  “Very likely – although I cannot see why he considered that to be his affair. Had you forgotten that he was my brother when you accepted his offer or am I of so little account that you felt able to ignore our previous association?”

  “I thought you were married.”

  “Married? Is that what someone said? I conjecture you were given that information at about the same time Frederick made his offer?”

  She nodded. “Yes; it was my stepmama who told me – not Papa. I suppose I should have guessed that she was lying, but how was I to know? I had not heard from you for over four years.”

  “Nor I from you. On the other hand, knowing how many letters I have written, I think we must presume they were destroyed before they could reach you. Funny, isn’t it, that your father seems prepared to go to any lengths to prevent you marrying me but fairly jumped at the chance of handing you over to Frederick?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s probably right. You will be much better off with him; the Castle’s a comfortable residence once you get used to the narrow windows.”

  “Yes,” Letty repeated in a dazed voice. There was too much for her to deal with at once: the sight of the mutilated man she remembered as a handsome boy; the fact that she had promised to marry his brother without in the least wishing to do so; the awful truth of her father’s indifference to her sentiments and determination to stamp upon her wishes; and, finally, the devastating knowledge that Lord Archibald had kept faith with her in spite of not having received a single reply to any of his letters while she, in spite of her declaration that she would never love another, had not.

  “Have you set a date yet?” he continued, adopting a conversational tone.

  “No.”

  “Come on approval, have you?”

  Letty shook her head and put up her hand to brush an imaginary cobweb from in front of her face; she was very pale, and her lips trembled.

  Aspasia, seeing these signs of distress, rose and went to her. “Would you like to go outside for a moment? You have sustained a prodigious shock.”

  “How will it be any better outside?”

  “If we go out together no one will be able to interrogate or upbraid you,” she said quietly. “Come.”

  “Let me open the door,” Lord Archibald said helpfully, getting to his feet with some difficulty and making his way to a pair of French windows. He turned the key and pulled the door but was unable to open it until his brother added his strength, when it flew open with something of a shriek, almost knocking the injured man off his feet.

  The Earl stepped out and tore down some of the trailing stems which had begun to insert themselves between the frame and the door. Outside there was a terrace, much covered in dead leaves and creeping ivy but supplied with a stone bench and a defunct fountain. He swept the detritus off the bench and went back to help Letty and her aunt.

  Letty was leaning on Aspasia as though she had no strength in her legs. She did not look at Archie, who had stepped away from the door but remained beside the opening.

  “I think, I am afraid – I am going to be sick,” she muttered and, gaining the terrace at last, broke away from her aunt and ran into the thicket on one side.

  Aspasia tried to close the door, perhaps wishing to protect Lord Archibald from the knowledge that seeing him had made his beloved unwell.

  “It does not signify,” he said. “I am quite accustomed to such a reaction. My own mother cannot look at me without turning pale.”

  “It is just the shock,” Aspasia said, stretching out her hand to him.

  He nodded but said, “Go to her; she needs you.”

  Letty had set off down an overgrown path and Aspasia followed, trying not to trip over the branches and tendrils which obscured the way.

  “It would have been better if you had been warned what to expect so far as his face is concerned,” she complained, striving to show sympathy with her niece.

  “I wish I had not come!” Letty exclaimed, shuddering. “I wish I had stayed with Papa and my stepmama even though they do not care a fig for my feelings and have led me to believe Archie deserted me. Anything would have been better than this.”

  “Yes, although I do not think you should be surprised at the lengths to which your papa will go to get his own way. You have already received ample proof of his determination to part you and Lord Archibald. I own what particularly exercises me is why in the world Stonegate m
ade you an offer when he knew about your past association with his brother. Do you think he has been in love with you ever since he rescued you but doesn’t want to admit it because, frankly, it does not do him much credit?”

  “How can he have been? I was horrid to him – bit him, kicked him. No – and I don’t think he is in love with me. Oh, he is very polite, but he does not look at me as though he is thinking of marrying me – or wanting to. What shall we do?”

  “I do not know,” Aspasia admitted. “Pray stand still for a moment: there is not room enough on this path for us both and it is well-nigh impossible to converse when I am struggling to keep up with you and tripping over things all the time. I think, to begin with, we must go back and eat our luncheon in as civilised a fashion as we can achieve and perhaps, while we are doing that, the way will become clearer. At the moment, it is not unlike this path: uneven, frequently obstructed and with no very obvious destination.”

  “I disagree, Aunt; the destination stares us in the face and is nothing less than my marriage to Stonegate.”

  “That is the obvious one,” her aunt argued. “I find myself wondering if there is in fact a much more complicated objective, the path to which is as meandering and strewn with impediments as this one.”

  “What in the world do you mean?”

  “That I agree with you on the subject of Stonegate’s sentiments: he does not strike me as a man in love, nor even one who has chosen a wife for purely practical reasons.”

  “What then do you think he does want of me?”

  “I am by no means certain. He seems to be a perfectly agreeable gentleman, is extraordinarily patient with his stepmother, who is quite exceptionally unpleasant to him, and devoted to his half-brother. I can see no evidence that the man is a monster of self-regard nor that he has harboured improper designs on you since you were a schoolgirl. I would say – but I must remind you that I am not the best person from whom to take advice on whom you should marry – that he gives the impression of a man who takes his responsibilities extremely seriously and that in offering you marriage he believes he is carrying out his duty.”