“Certainly not,” agreed Isobel. “It will be good to see those strong shoulders put to use.”
“Alas,” said Lord Exencour, “she will doubtless drag me into the pits tomorrow and force me to wield a spade. Phillip, have pity on me and invite me to accompany you somewhere--anywhere--tomorrow.”
Eynsford favored the pair with an indulgent smile. “I am sure Glencairn would be glad to have you to visit. And Lady Glencairn wonders why she has seen so little of you this summer.”
“Dear Harriet,” said Isobel. “She always had a soft spot for a handsome gentleman. She was so happy to see us wed. She was our greatest champion, after Letitia, of course.”
A small silence fell at the mention of the name and Isobel hastened to cover it by going through the small pile of letters and cards that lay on a silver tray.
“Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly. The men turned and looked at her.
“What is it?” asked Lord Exencour.
Isobel gave Eynsford a slightly embarrassed glance. “'Tis a letter from Letitia,” she said quietly.
“Open it by all means,” urged Lord Eynsford. “I wish very much to know how Emily does.”
Isobel obeyed with alacrity and soon the letter was opened and the closely-written sheet spread before her.
“Thank heavens!” she exclaimed. “Emily, while still very weak, has turned the corner and is expected to recover. Letitia is most grateful as we all are, I am sure. That is a great load off my mind.”
While the gentlemen expressed their whole-hearted agreement with Isobel, she continued to read. Her eyes widened as she did so, and a hand stole up to her throat.
“Oh no,” she said suddenly. “This is dreadful!”
“What is the matter?” asked her husband. “Is there bad news about Emily?”
“No, not at all. Indeed, the doctors expect a full recovery. But that hateful Bainstall! And that toad-eating Bishop of Mainwaring! I might have expected something of this nature! Francis, we must go to Ramsgate immediately!”
“Must we?” asked Lord Exencour.
“We must,” asserted Isobel. “You will never guess what has happened. What a fool I was not to go to Letitia as soon as I heard of Emily's plight. I am the most selfish of beings, staying here when she needed me.”
“But she asked you not to come,” Lord Exencour pointed out.
“That was doubtless Bainstall's influence!” she declared. “Now see the trouble she is in. I blame myself utterly.” She threw down the letter and rose from the table. “I will make arrangements to leave immediately.” She rushed out, calling for her abigail.
Francis and Phillip exchanged glances and Lord Exencour picked up the abandoned letter. He read it with a look of concern, and then turned to his friend, who watched him in silence.
“It seems that Lady Morgan has been led by her cousin to believe that Emily's illness proves once and for all that she is incapable of taking care of her children by herself,” he said calmly. “And she does not wish to become a burden on Isobel by constantly calling on her when troubles threaten. So she has decided that Bainstall is correct, and she must remarry. The Bishop of Mainwaring has been so kind as to offer for her hand and she, though she cannot love him, feels that he will be kind to her and protect her from such difficulties as a single woman must encounter.”
Lord Eynsford looked aghast. “That doesn’t sound like Lady Morgan,” he said grimly.
“No, but Isobel is right,” said Lord Exencour. “It does sound uncommonly like her cousin, whom I do not believe you have met. An extremely prosy and priggish fellow, I must say. I am fairly sure he has been working on her all through Emily’s illness to bring her around to his way of thinking.”
“How despicable,” snapped Lord Eynsford.
“Bainstall would tell you that he was merely acting in Lady Morgan's best interests, I am sure,” said Lord Exencour.
“How can she accept the offer of that buffoon when she turned me down?” asked Lord Eynsford, a rough edge to his voice. “I offered her my heart as well as my name, and she would not take it.”
“She felt you had betrayed her,” said Lord Exencour. “She says in her letter that although she does not care for the Bishop, she can be certain that he will never damage her heart the way Lord Morgan and Mr. Markham did.”
Lord Eynsford looked shamefaced. “I did not mean to deceive her, Francis,” he said.
“I know that. But it is not me whom you must convince,” said Lord Exencour. “It would seem that the lady is set on her course.” He gave the Marquess' impassive countenance a sharp look. “Does it matter to you, Phillip?”
“Lady Morgan seems to have made up her mind,” said Eynsford. “My own feelings hardly matter now.”
“On the contrary, your feelings matter a great deal. Lady Morgan mentions that since she heard of your impending marriage to Lady Pamela Ravenscroft and your continuing liaison with Lady Mowbry, she has put all thoughts of you out of her mind. So it appears she was thinking of you until recently, at any event.”
“My impending marriage to whom?” asked Lord Eynsford.
“Lord Ravenscroft's second daughter, Lady Pamela,” said Lord Exencour. “You have kept me in the dark, Phillip.”
“I'm not going to marry Lady Pamela,” objected Lord Eynsford. “I barely know the child. Her father was a friend of my father's and I danced with her a few times at Almack’s, as she is shy and wasn't taking. That's hardly enough to hang an engagement on.”
Lord Exencour looked at the letter again. “It is clear that someone has, and I can imagine who the culprit is. Bainstall doubtless turned some foolish gossip to good advantage; Lady Mowbry is also mentioned here, and I daresay you have been done with her for months.”
“The woman lives in Paris. How can I possibly be carrying on an affaire with her? I haven't seen her in this age, and I don't want to either, mind you. I'd like to wring this Bainstall's neck.”
Isobel burst back into the room and gave a sigh of exasperation at the sight of her husband standing in the middle of the room.
“Francis, whatever are you doing?” she asked. “I wish to leave as soon as we may.”
“Certainly, my dear,” said Lord Exencour. “I was merely attempting to ascertain precisely why it was that Letitia needed our help.”
Isobel took the letter out of his hand. “Because her cousin is a monster,” she said promptly. “I will not allow her to be victimized so.”
“And very rightly,” said Lord Exencour. “I will be delighted to accompany you in riding to her rescue. Phillip and I were merely discussing whether he had a part to play in this matter.”
“That is entirely up to him,” said Isobel. “It is clear that you caused Letitia a great deal of distress, sir,” she said to Eynsford, “but it is also apparent that she continues to have some affection for you. How you act on that is up to you, but I trust you will not be deceitful this time. That is, of course, providing you are not in fact engaged to Lady Pamela Ravenscroft.”
The Marquess groaned. “Please, spare me any references to Lady Pamela. I will never be kind to a youngster again.” There was a moment’s pause as both Isobel and Francis surveyed him.
“I wish her to know that I still care for her, but she was quite firm in her rejection of me. I do not want to cause her more pain,” he said.
“Good heavens,” cried Isobel, “this is no time for pretty speeches and gentle sentiments! Do you wish to marry her or would you rather see her wed to Mainwaring?”
“I want to marry her,” responded the Marquess promptly.
“Then get moving,” said Isobel. “Heavens! Go to Glencairn this moment and pack or we shall leave you behind.”
She watched as Eynsford hastily removed himself. Whatever would the pair of them do without me, she wondered. They are quite helpless.
Chapter 39
Letitia reclined on a chaise longue in her sitting room, a damp cloth on her forehead and a bottle of smelling salts at hand. The curtain
s were drawn tightly against the sun and her eyes were shut. She had never been one to suffer from headaches or disordered nerves, but both had come on with alarming frequency since she accepted Dr. Wolfe’s proposal. The only relief she could find was to retire to a darkened room and see absolutely no visitors at all, including her cousin and fiancé.
Her engagement to the bishop was of two weeks duration now, and it had not brought Letty the peace of mind she had expected after her discussions with her cousin. Instead, it threatened to throw her into even more turmoil than Alfred’s death had. Dr. Wolfe’s objective was now to have Letitia pack her belongings, and move to his mother’s home where he wished her and the children to live until they could be married. Only the knowledge that while Emily’s recovery was certain, she was still too weak to be moved, prevented this eventuality.
Letitia’s protestations that she did not wish to live with Dr. Wolfe’s mother were set aside. Lord Bainstall assured her that preparing for her marriage would leave her no time for caring for her own home, and the bishop declared that she would love his mother, who, though sickly, would surely welcome her with open arms. She was further disturbed by Bainstall’s obvious intention to interfere with the management of the Morgan estate, once again pressing her to sell it, and enlisting the bishop in his campaign. Dr. Wolfe agreed wholeheartedly with his friend, and assured Letitia that after their marriage he would look into the matter for her, though he was sure that Bainstall had the right of it.
“For,” he said, patting her hand reassuringly, “you are marrying me that I may take the burdens of your day-to-day life from your shoulders, so you must permit me to make all such decisions for you.”
Letty turned restlessly on the chaise, attempting to shut the vision out of her mind. She realized now that she had agreed to marry the bishop when she was deeply fatigued from nursing Emily through her dangerous illness and had allowed Bainstall to undermine her confidence in her own abilities. As the days passed and she returned to a normal routine, sleeping well and eating regularly, her customary good sense rebounded as well. Now, she was alarmed by the turn her life had taken.
Yet she could see no clear way to extract herself. She had an obligation to her cousin for his support of her during Emily’s illness and his words on the subject of being a burden to others still seemed pertinent to her. She did not wish to be a charge upon her friends or family.
Why, she wondered, had she not married Eynsford when she had the chance? Her own stubbornness had driven away the one man she now felt she could love. This realization inevitably led her back to her depressed mood and the conclusion that she deserved no better than marriage to Dr. Wolfe for having so thoroughly botched her own affairs.
The door opened and Letitia hastily closed her eyes, hoping the visitor would perceive that she was asleep and leave her in peace. She was not so fortunate. Baron Bainstall stood over her and then cleared his throat loudly. “Letitia,” he said in a firm voice. “Letitia.”
She reluctantly opened her eyes and feigned a start. “Cousin! Whatever are you doing here? I am afraid I am quite incapacitated and asked the maid to deny me to visitors.”
“She did so,” said Bainstall, “but I told her you would not mind the visit of a relative. We have important issues to discuss.”
“Have we?” faltered Letitia. “I cannot think of anything. It is too early to be planning the wedding and Emily is still recuperating...”
“On the contrary,” said Bainstall. “It is never too early to discuss the nuptials, and Emily is very much better indeed. It is time for you to put your aside your fears for her and look forward to your new life.”
“My new life?” asked Letitia.
“Certainly, your life with Dr. Wolfe,” said Lord Bainstall. “I venture to say you will be very happy, and it will be a far better situation for Emily and James. I know of no better behaved children than his Margaret and Druscilla and hope yours will soon be as charming; although your offspring are lovely their spirits are sometimes a trifle too high.”
“I think high spirits are to be encouraged in the young,” protested Letitia, distracted from her woes by his criticism of her children.
“You are very indulgent,” observed Bainstall. “Luckily the Dr. Wolfe will be able to counteract the worst of your excesses. He will also be able to provide for them other things that they need, such as proper schooling and a dowry for Emily.”
Letitia bit her lip on a retort, for Bainstall had hit quite precisely on her desire to provide for James and Emily financially.
“But I digress,” continued Bainstall. “I came to speak to you about removing from Ramsgate and closing your house in Kensington. Emily will be able to travel very shortly, so I propose that we begin to make arrangements. I have had some documents drawn up which I will submit to my man of business in order to terminate your lease and to draw up a marriage settlement. I wish you will sign them.”
He spread several thick stacks of paper out before her and she looked at them nervously.
“Perhaps I should read them?” ventured Letitia.
Bainstall smiled. “If you feel you must, you may, of course,” he said. “But I doubt you would understand them. I think you can rely on me, Letitia, to do what is right for you.”
Letty frowned, but reached for the pen Bainstall had brought from the writing desk and signed the papers. Somehow her cousin always managed to make her feel like an insubordinate child.
The Baron gathered up the papers and smiled on her. “Now we can begin preparing to return to London. Do not bother your head about the details; I will arrange all.”
“I am capable of ordering my own belongings,” began Letitia, but Bainstall interrupted her.
“Of course you are,” he said soothingly. “But you are still recovering from your fatigue, and Emily needs your attention as well. Dr. Wolfe and I wish to manage this for you and beg you will allow us to.”
Letitia sank back on the couch with the reflection that most of the hypochondriacal women she knew were probably married to men like Bainstall. Only illness would keep him, with his constant officiousness and supervision, out of her presence.
“Very well,” she said faintly. “And now I beg you to leave me. My head pounds quite dreadfully.”
“I am sorry that you are unwell,” said Bainstall. “My dear wife frequently has the headache and I know how much she suffers. However, Dr. Wolfe has agreed to meet me here, as he is most anxious to see you today. He has great plans for you. I must wait until he arrives.”
Letitia returned the damp cloth to her forehead. “Dr. Wolfe is coming here?” she faltered.
“Certainly. He is your fiancé and takes a great interest in your wellbeing. You should be pleased, Letitia.”
“Oh, I am,” she replied feebly. “I am very grateful.”
Chapter 40
Letty subsided onto the chaise longue, hoping that would ensure Bainstall’s silence, and the two of them sat for some time, the Baron leafing through his papers, while Letitia closed her eyes and willed him to go away. Soon there was a bustle in the hallway and Dr. Wolfe entered, a huge smile on his face.
“Bainstall!” he exclaimed. “I see you are here before me! And my dear Letitia!” He took her hand and planted a resounding kiss on it. “Are you indisposed again, my dear? My late wife was also frequently ill, so I am accustomed to the frailties of females. Rest assured that I will take good care of you.”
“Thank you,” said Letitia, for lack of a better response. “Is there a purpose to your visit?”
“Only to see you, my dear, and satisfy myself that all is well. Has Bainstall told you that you shall soon be removing from Ramsgate? I am sure that you are excited at the prospect of meeting my mother and preparing for our wedding. Bainstall and I have agreed that the second week of November will be a perfect time. As your mourning ends the week before, we can have a quiet wedding and notify the newspapers afterwards. It will suit us perfectly.”
“Indeed?” asked Let
itia a trifle acidly. “I do not remember being consulted.”
“We have not consulted you on the date, perhaps,” said the Bishop, “but Bainstall and I are agreed that the ordering of the wedding, what you wear and the food and flowers, shall be yours to choose. I believe those are sufficient decisions for you, eh?” He laughed loudly and Letitia winced.
“You are too generous,” she said tartly.
“Now, Letitia, you must not get upset,” said Bainstall. “I know you have the headache, but you must not allow it to make you pettish.” What Letitia might have responded to this will never be known, for at that moment there a little commotion in the hallway. They could hear people speaking, the maid responding, and then more conversation.
“Are you expecting visitors Letitia?” asked Bainstall.
“I don’t think so,” said Letitia. “I have asked Violet to deny me, for I feel quite unwell.”
The door opened and Violet entered, an apologetic look on her face. “Pardon me, my lady,” she said, “but a lady and gentleman have arrived who insist that you will wish to see them.”
“Lady Morgan is indisposed,” said Bainstall solemnly. “And we do not wish to be disturbed.”
Letitia decided to contradict this statement, if only to spite Bainstall. “Who is it, Violet?” she asked.
“Lord and Lady Exencour, ma’am,” replied Violet. “They seem very wishful of speaking to you.”
Letitia sat up suddenly, the cloth falling from her forehead into her lap. “Send them in immediately, Violet,” she said.
“How very odd, to be sure,” said Bainstall. “Were you expecting Lady Exencour?”
“Not at all,” said Letitia. “But I will be extremely pleased to see them both.”
“I cannot imagine why,” observed her cousin. “Lady Exencour has brought nothing but confusion to your life. Now that you are more happily settled I hope you will not allow her influence to prevail with you.”
Letitia was prevented from answering this by the entry of Isobel, who immediately swept down upon Letty. She enveloped the room in a cloud of elegance, her dashing moss-green travelling costume set off by a ravishing plumed Shako style bonnet looking decidedly frivolous against the backdrop of the more sober bishop and Lord Bainstall.
An Indecent Charade: Letitia's After Dark Regency Romance Page 24
