An Indecent Charade
Letitia's After Dark Regency Romance
By Alicia Quigley
Text copyright © 2015 Alicia Quigley
All Rights Reserved
Letitia’s story is dedicated to all those who are “once bitten, twice shy” about love.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Epilogue
Chapter 1
It was a January day in Wales and the skies were blanketed with those peculiarly British low-lying clouds that enclose the world and make it small. A light snow fell, and the damp permeated everything, no stone, no plant, no animal could be immune. Morgan Place would have fared ill in this unforgiving light even if the gravel of the drive had been recently refreshed, the shrubs which ornamented it trimmed of late, and the building subjected to proper upkeep.
As it was, the dilapidation of the estate was obvious when an elegant traveling carriage, perched on the best springs and pulled by a team of very sweet-goers bowled up to the house. The door of the chaise opened and a modishly dressed gentleman sprang out, his fair hair ruffling slightly in the wind. He waited as the coachman pulled down the steps and then handed out an extremely fine lady, whose traveling dress of grey silk twill was in the first stare of fashion and became her tall figure admirably. Her auburn tresses were dressed rather severely and her hands were inserted in a large sable muff.
“Are there no servants here to assist Grissom with the horses?” wondered the gentleman.
“There may not be. You know how very reduced Letty’s circumstances have been,” his companion replied.
The fashionable gentleman grimaced. “It seems you will have to wait a few moments for assistance, Grissom,” he said to his groom. “I will have the butler find someone to come out to you as soon as we are within.”
The groom nodded and watched as the gentleman gave his arm to the lady, helping her up the steps to the door. It was swathed in black crape, and together with the weeping skies and the house’s deteriorating native stone façade, which was much in need of tuckpointing, the scene exuded a distinct air of gloom. A black bow was tied about the knocker, and the gentleman lifted it, rapping firmly twice. The crepe muffled the sound and the knock echoed hollowly. They waited several moments in the misty rain for the door to open.
“Upon my word, Isobel, no grooms and now it seems no butler either!” exclaimed the gentleman. “Shall we be required to show ourselves in, I wonder?”
“It does seem very irregular, Francis. Surely all of her servants cannot have left Letty at such a distressing time.” Isobel Wheaton, Viscountess Exencour, looked worriedly at her spouse and bit her lip. She was just opening her mouth to ask him to open the door himself, when the sound of the latch lifting could be heard, and an ancient and decrepit servant appeared. He looked inquiringly at the visitors.
“Lord and Lady Exencour,” the gentleman said, entering the hall. He handed his hat and coat to the servant, and turned to help his wife remove her muff and cape.
“Where is Lady Morgan, please?” asked the lady, somewhat anxiously.
“Her ladyship’ll be in the drawing room where his lordship is laid out,” the old servitor responded.
“Well, show us there, man,” said Lord Exencour somewhat impatiently. “Lady Exencour and I have made a long journey and have no wish to wait any longer to see her. And find someone to help my groom and the coachman take the horses ‘round to the stables.”
Lord and Lady Exencour followed the butler across the hall to the drawing room, where he opened the door and announced them in suitably dolorous tones.
The drawing room had the air of a place where only money was wanting. It was spotlessly neat and clean, and the wood of the furniture shone impeccably, but light spaces could be seen on the wallpaper where pictures had once hung, and a close examination showed that the curtains, while well-pressed and made of fine damask, were old-fashioned and growing somewhat threadbare. Toward the end of the room, there was a bier, with candles burning at either end of a coffin. It was draped in black fabric, and floral tributes were heaped about it. On a settee a young and very beautiful lady sat wearing widows weeds and a black veil, with two small children at her side. Several visitors were ranged around, talking in hushed tones.
At the sound of their names the widow leaped to her feet and came forward. Lady Exencour fairly ran to her, clasping her in a warm embrace.
“Oh my dear, we came as soon as we received your letter. What a shock it must have been to you.”
“Isobel, you cannot possibly imagine how glad I am that you are here,” whispered the lady in black. “Alfred’s affairs were in such a tangle, that I cannot think what to do. There is no one I can turn to and the creditors are dunning me, even now, before his body is laid to rest. But we must not speak of it for,” she said, raising her voice, “here are Squire Musgrove and his lady, and the Johnstones come to visit me. Let me make them known to you.”
Letitia, Lady Morgan, drew Lord and Lady Exencour forward and made the introductions. For a time the conversation was confined to those subjects usually deemed appropriate on such occasions, until at last the visitors left. The children’s nurse was summoned and the little boy and girl returned to the nursery, their immature countenances reflecting all the fear and confusion that a death in a family produces.
“Letty, I hardly know what to say to you,” Isobel began. “I cannot say that I am sorry for Alfred’s death, and it can only be most improper to say that you are better off without him.”
“Oh, Isobel, your candor is so welcome,” said Letty, hovering between laughter and tears. “I have sat here for the past two days while the county came to offer condolences, and I have not spoken a true word in the whole time.”
“Well, you shall tell me the whole story, and tell it frankly, for here are no censorious ears, only friendship and compassion. How came Alfred to break his neck in a hunting accident? I had thought he was still on the Continent,” Isobel said.
“He returned very suddenly. I fancy there must have been some contretemps in Spa, which is where he had been staying for the past three months. Some woman, or gambling debt, no doubt,” said Lady Morgan bitterly. “In any event, Alfred appeared here, and has done little but roister about the neighborhood and hunt ever since. A fatal accident befell him three days since, when his hunter stopped at a stone wall, and Alfred was pitched over it. The ground lay downhill, magnifying the effect of the fall, and his neck was broken.”
; Isobel was silent after Letitia recounted these events, only taking her friend’s hands in her own and holding them tightly.
“He should have waited for his horse,” drawled Lord Exencour unsympathetically, gazing at the coffin through his quizzing glass. “It’s much more difficult to come to grief when one is on top of one’s mount. But then I make no doubt that when this mishap occurred Lord Morgan was in no condition to ascertain his exact relationship to his mount.”
Isobel shook her head at this disrespect for the departed, but made no reproof, for no one in the room had any reason to think well of the late Lord Morgan.
“Ah, I hesitate to distress you further, dear Lady Morgan, but you mentioned the duns, some moments past,” murmured Lord Exencour in a gentle tone, which was greatly at variance with the cynical accents he had employed in remarking on the circumstances of Lord Morgan’s death. “If it is not too trying for you, perhaps you had best reveal the situation to me, and I will contact your man of business and attempt to assist you in settling matters.”
Letitia frowned. “Alfred’s first action on returning home was to declare that the bailiff had been cheating him of the estate’s revenue in his absence, and he dismissed him and put him out of his house on those grounds. It was shocking, for Grieves has been here quite twenty years, I am sure. I hope that he remains in the neighborhood, but he may have gone to his sister in Bristol, which will make it more difficult to find him. As for our solicitor, Mr. Linkwall, he is in Chester, and I have sent for him. I hope that he will be here by tomorrow. The situation is really most alarming; I have no notion of the extent of Alfred’s debts, but there have been a number of individuals who have called today who are apparently money lenders, and I do not know what type of security Alfred may have given them, but I greatly fear—”
“Lay your fears to rest for now, Lady Morgan,” interrupted his lordship in a soothing tone. “I will engage to seek out Grieves and will meet with Linkwall when he arrives tomorrow. I expect that he will wish to read the will, but surely that must wait until after the funeral.”
“Oh yes, that takes place in the morning tomorrow, and I expect that we will hear the will read that afternoon,” Letty replied.
“Very well then. You and Isobel are to enjoy a comfortable coze. I will undertake inquiries as to Grieves’ location, and at tea time, we will discuss what is next to be done.” Exencour bowed elegantly over Lady Morgan’s hand, and, with a warm smile at his wife, left the room.
Letitia, who had borne up under the many strains of the preceding six weeks, proceeded to burst into tears. Isobel held her hand and patted her back soothingly, waiting for the storm to pass. At length, Letty’s sobs grew softer, and she sniffed audibly, searching for her handkerchief. Isobel withdrew a serviceable white linen square from her reticule and handed it to her with a smile.
“A widow without a handkerchief, my dear? It will not do. The county will surely surmise how little real grief you feel about Alfred’s demise.”
Letty smiled through her tears. “You are quite correct. It is not Alfred I weep for; it is a mere irritation of the nerves, I believe.”
“One can hardly call Alfred a ‘mere’ irritation, Letty,” responded Isobel with asperity. “What happened when he returned?”
“Oh, it was really rather dreadful, Isobel. He burst in here quite drunk one afternoon last month, and announced that he had grown weary of the Continent and intended to take up residence here at Morgan Park once more. The children were very much confused of course, for Emily did not know who he was, and even little Jamie’s memories of his father had grown quite dim after an absence of two and a half years.”
“Letty, why did you not let me know?” asked Isobel. “Francis would have been only too glad to run him off as he did before.”
Letty shrugged. “I do not like to trouble you, and I thought he might have learned his lesson, or would soon leave again. I think he must have won a rather large sum of money at play before returning, for he arrived with several horses and a new carriage, and all of his clothing is likewise new. He joined the hunt and had been behaving just as always. So much so, that of course it came to all ears and a fortnight ago, I was very much mortified when Lady Pennibont visited and hinted in the most odious way that Lord Pennibont had been very much shocked to have seen Alfred in the company of a rather questionable lady. Indeed, I am sure he did, but did she never wonder exactly what Lord Pennibont had been engaged upon that he happened to encounter Alfred in such a situation?” Letty asked in a vexed tone.
“Well Letty, it is all very bad. But if Alfred has won a large sum at play, perhaps he did not have a chance to waste it all before his untimely death, and it may alleviate your circumstances,” said Isobel hopefully.
“It would have to be a vast sum of money to do that,” said Letitia wanly. “But I suppose anything at all would be a help. I hope Grieves is found quickly; it is a very raw day for Exencour to be on such an errand for me. I am so grateful to you both, Isobel.”
“'‘Tis little enough among friends, Letty. After the will is read, and the financial matters untangled we must study what is to be done, and how we can be of real service to you.”
Letty shook her head smilingly, and was about to answer, when her aged butler entered. “Lord Bainstall has arrived, my lady,” he announced.
Letty's sweet expression instantly changed to one of vexation. “My cousin. Well, to be sure, good manners almost require his presence, but I wish he had not come.”
“I can only echo that sentiment,” said Isobel. “I’m sure your cousin is the most tedious man alive, and I’ve never had to endure his company. The correspondence he sent you when you stayed with me in London was enough to give me the vapors!”
Letty smiled despite herself. “Perhaps it is not his fault; his mother doted on him excessively, and he was accustomed to being the center of her worries and concerns. When my father died so suddenly and he inherited the estate, it only increased his notion of his importance.”
“For some reason people with no more than average understanding always seem to feel they know best how to order the affairs of others,” observed Isobel. “I feel for you, my dear.”
Letty turned to the butler. “Very well, Banning. Please show Lord Bainstall in,” she said.
“Letty, you must not allow him to bully you,” Isobel urged her earnestly. “Remember that one of the chief advantages of being a widow is the right to do as you please, without the censure of the world.”
“'‘Tis the censure of Lord Bainstall, which concerns me rather,” replied Letty drily. “My cousin, I believe, considers his own views of such matters to be of greater significance than those of the world at large, being possessed as he is of a vast belief in his own opinion.”
Chapter 2
Lord Bainstall was announced by the butler and Isobel was a bit taken aback by his unprepossessing appearance. He was a stout, middle-aged man, with an unhealthy air about him. His pallid countenance and flaccid frame were those of one who might be an excellent trencherman, but clearly pursued little vigorous exercise. He had a rather petulant expression, not assisted by small, weak eyes, which he blinked rapidly.
Bainstall was looking mournful, and he gestured towards the bier. “A very bad business this,” he said. “The thought that a man so young could be struck down in the flower of his youth, must make each of us recall that at any time we could be called upon to give an account of our actions in this world, and that we should be prepared to justify ourselves to our Creator.”
Letty looked rather nonplussed at his moralizing, but replied quietly. “Quite so, Lord Bainstall. I believe that you are not acquainted with my friend Lady Exencour. Allow me to introduce you to her.”
Isobel summoned up a vision of her grandmother, who had been a very grande dame indeed, and favored the baron with a frosty smile, a slight nod of her head and offered his lordship two fingers to shake. Letty turned her head aside to hide a smile, and then invited them to sit.
Letty did not know how to answer him politely, so she remained silent and tried to avoid looking her skepticism. Isobel took up cudgels on her behalf, however.
“I think that Letty suffers from no shortage of friendly advice from those who have her interests at heart,” she said.
“Indeed not,” replied Bainstall in a displeased tone. “But who can better ascertain those interests than the head of her family?” he inquired rhetorically.
“Perhaps Lady Morgan’s opinion might be solicited first,” answered Isobel sweetly.
Letty had to smile at this exchange. “Cousin, your kindness in wishing to assist me in this difficult time is appreciated,” she said placatingly. “However, Lady Exencour too has my welfare in mind.”
Unfortunately, Lord Bainstall chose to ignore this invitation to cease hostilities and looked closely at Isobel. “Ah, you are the former Miss Paley, are you not, Lady Exencour?” he asked.
Isobel merely nodded and smiled in reply. Undeterred,
Bainstall pressed on.
“Letitia, I must tell you that I do not think that Lady Exencour is one in whom you should confide. She led you very much astray two years past when you visited her in London, and you should not place your trust in her now. Although you came to your senses and returned to your home, Lady Exencour’s influence on your actions can only be described as ill-advised.”
There was silence after this speech as both ladies were so much angered by it as to be temporarily rendered tongue-tied. Bainstall, fancying himself to have had the last word on the matter smiled at Letitia. “You must allow yourself to be guided by me, cousin, and we shall see you respectably settled.”
The door had opened silently during this last speech by the baron and Lord Exencour had entered undetected. He now stood with a gleeful smile on his handsome face, watching his wife draw breath to embark upon a blistering retort. Electing at the last moment to cast water rather than oil upon the flames of her wrath, he cleared his throat and stepped forward.
An Indecent Charade: Letitia's After Dark Regency Romance Page 1
