A Matter of Honor

by Nina Coombs Pykare

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Do you suppose that a kiss could be both?”

  “Both what?” asked Aggie, carefully keeping her eyes on her work.

  “Both fireworks and coming home,” said Cecilie softly.

  Again Aggie could feel the treacherous tears rising. If only she had not lost Denby. If only she could feel his arms around her once more. Some seconds passed before she could master her emotions enough to speak. “Yes, Cecilie,” she said finally. “Sometimes it’s like that. Both at once.”

  Cecilie nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

  * * * *

  No more was said of kisses that day, or later. But whenever Lord Heatherton called, Aggie contrived in one way or another to leave them to themselves for a few minutes.

  And then one day it happened. Aggie had known it would, but still it was a shock. She woke early to find Cecilie’s bed empty. A note pinned to the pillow said simply,

  We’ve run off. Dillydums, too.

  For long moments Aggie stood staring down at the note. Her heart was pounding in her throat and her mouth was suddenly dry. They had done it. As she had known they would. Done it without Heatherton even approaching Denby. Aggie had to admire the plan. For if the Viscount had approached Denby and been refused, he could certainly not have called again and there would have been no opportunity to arrange the elopement.

  She was turning from the room, wondering how long she should wait before informing his lordship what she had discovered, when her foot kicked a piece of crumpled paper on the floor. Absently Aggie picked it up and smoothed it out. Then her heart rose up in her throat and she almost cried out in her alarm. Dear God! This was a letter from Lord Gale! An effusive letter full of flowery compliments and begging Cecilie to run off with him.

  Aggie’s fingers trembled so that the paper almost fell from them. No! Cecilie could not have gone with Gale. And yet - she could not risk it. Cecilie was so young and so easily swayed by compliments.

  On trembling legs Aggie hurried to seek out his lordship. She found him still in the breakfast room. “Milord!” she cried. “Cecilie has run off.” She was too distraught to notice the expression on his face, though later she was to wish she had. “At first I thought it was with the Viscount, but it may be with Lord Gale!”

  “What!” His face darkened and his brows began to draw together in that line she dreaded, while the gray of his eyes turned stormy.

  Silently she passed him the letter. He scanned it quickly, then bellowed, “Bates! Order my horse. And get my pistols.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  “Pistols!” Aggie grasped the back of a chair for support.

  “If it’s Gale,” he said, “I may need them.” He looked down at her, his eyes clouded. “Go to my mother and wait. She’ll be up. And don’t worry.”

  Then he was gone and all the words filling her heart were left unsaid. A shudder raced over her. If Cecilie had gone with Gale, and if Denby didn’t catch them in time, Cecilie’s life would be miserable. And it would be Aggie’s fault.

  Finally, realizing that she was still standing where he had left her, she made her way up the stairs to Lady Denby’s room. Her soft tap on the door brought the call, “Come in.” Lady Denby turned from the window where she stood fully clothed in a becoming gown of palest lavender. “Aggie!” she said, coming immediately across the room and taking Aggie’s cold hands in her own. “Whatever is wrong? You look absolutely haggard. Do sit down, my dear, and tell me what is wrong.” She pulled Aggie onto a divan beside her.

  “Cecilie has run off,” said Aggie in despair.

  Lady Denby did not seem surprised.

  “She’s run off,” Aggie repeated.

  “I rather think the Viscount will take good care of her,” soothed the dowager.

  “But that’s just it,” cried Aggie, the tears trembling on her lashes. “We don’t know if it’s Heatherton she went with.”

  Lady Denby eyed her sharply. “Whatever makes you say that?”

  “I found a letter on her floor. From Lord Gale. She might have gone with him.” Aggie pressed her trembling hands together in her lap.

  “But she seemed so fond of Heatherton.” Now the Countess looked worried.

  “She is,” agreed Aggie dully. “But she is also easily impressed by flowery compliments. And Lord Gale is very good at those.”

  Lady Denby looked thoughtful. “I suppose you have been to my son.”

  Aggie nodded. “I took the letter to him. I thought at first it was Heatherton she had run off with. Till I found the letter. Oh, Lady Denby. If she has really gone off with Gale, it is my fault.”

  “How can that be?” Lady Denby’s tone was even.

  “I suspected she would run away,” Aggie said. “Only I thought it would be with Heatherton.”

  “So did we.”

  “You did plan it then,” cried Aggie.

  The Countess nodded. “Yes, we deliberately introduced Cecilie and Heatherton and Denby deliberately snubbed him.”

  “Then there is nothing wrong with him? He is suitable for Cecilie?” Aggie asked anxiously.

  Lady Denby smiled. “He is quite suitable and he has formed a real affection for the girl. We were both very pleased.”

  Aggie put a hand to her throbbing head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wanted to,” said the Countess, “but Denby said not to. He felt that you were not good at dissembling and that Cecilie might suspect something. You will agree that it was imperative that she not suspect?”

  Aggie sighed. Her head felt as though it might explode into a million throbbing pieces. “Yes. But I have been so confused. I did not know how to behave.”

  “It must have been difficult for you,” agreed Lady Denby with a sigh. “But you know how I am with Denby. I find myself always doing as he wants.”

  Aggie nodded. She knew only too well how charming Denby could be. “Yes, I understand. But I am so worried. He - he took his pistols.”

  Lady Denby did not seem surprised. “I should not be concerned over that. Denby is a careful person and an excellent shot. What he will probably do is check out the usual route. How fortunate for us that Lord Gale has red hair and that Cecilie took Dillydums.”

  Aggie sniffed and pressed a handkerchief to her eyes. “Why?”

  “Because Denby need not catch up to them to be sure whom she is with. After all, there cannot be too many young ladies with fair hair, traveling with a monkey toward Gretna Green. He can simply ask at inns and turnpike gates. I also imagine he knows which horses the Viscount planned to drive. I believe they are the ones he recently bought from Denby. They are on the best of terms with each other, you know. All that other business was for Cecilie’s sake.”

  Aggie was beginning to feel somewhat better. She only hoped that it was the Viscount with whom Cecilie had gone. “I think perhaps I presumed too much,” she said. “It was wrong of me. We took a terrible chance with Cecilie’s life.”

  “Perhaps,” said the Countess. “But we had to do something. We could not know that she was in communication with that dreadful Gale. It must have been one of the maids who brought the letter in.” She frowned. “I shall have to speak to them.”

  Aggie nodded. She sat silent, not knowing what to do or say. Finally she asked, “How long do you think we shall have to wait?”

  Lady Denby shrugged. “It is hard to say. They may have left in the night or early this morning.” She patted Aggie’s hand comfortingly. “Come, child. Do not be so downcast. Denby will more than likely find she has gone with Heatherton. Then the two of you will be free to lead your own lives.”

  Aggie nodded, but the prospect held little pleasure for her. She knew that she could not stay on in Denby’s house once Cecilie was wed. She knew it was ridiculous, even dangerous, to see Denby or be near him. And clearly she would never be able to bear the sight of him as Lady Alicia’s husband. But the prospect of a life without him in it seemed unbearably empty. She suppressed a sigh. Sh
e would start her school for young ladies; she would be forced to do so because of her financial situation. And perhaps that would actually be the best thing. At least she would be unable to sit dumbly and mourn. There would be a great deal to do to get things organized. That would occupy her mind for a while.

  She tried to set herself to making plans, but it was a useless effort. Her thoughts could not be diverted from the Earl. His face seemed permanently etched in her mind. The busy brows, the smoky gray eyes, the proud aristocratic nose, the firm lips. A shiver ran over her as she recalled his kisses. Dear God! Could she really live without him? It seemed impossible, yet she knew it must be done. Other women had lived through unrequited love, she told herself sternly. And so would she. She had done it once already.

  “Let us go have some breakfast,” said Lady Denby. “The day may well be a long one.”

  “I cannot eat now,” protested Aggie.

  “Nonsense,” said the Countess sternly. “You must keep up your strength.”

  So Aggie followed her to the breakfast

  room where she managed to down a cup of tea and half a piece of toast.

  * * * *

  The day passed slowly. Aggie, her ears always alert, jumped at every little sound. Finally, at the Countess’s suggestion, she picked up her needlework. More than once she pricked a finger, but she persisted in the sewing. There was something to be said for physical activity. The fact of doing something - anything - seemed to be helpful.

  Sometimes she felt hopeful. His lordship must have learned the truth by now. Quite soon he would return to reassure them that it was indeed Heatherton Cecilie had gone off with.

  But other times her imagination ran rampant and she imagined Cecilie as the neglected wife of Lord Gale, clad in a shabby gown and surrounded by crying little ones.

  She had stitched, read aloud, and been persuaded into nibbling on the luncheon Bates had provided, and returned again to stitching and reading, and still there was no word from his lordship. And then, finally, as the sun was beginning to sink in the sky, she heard the sound of the front door and Denby’s voice in the hall. She leaped to her feet, scattering needlework and thread, but entirely unheeding of it as she sped out into

  Denby the hall. Lady Denby was right behind her.

  “Denby!” Aggie cried. “Oh, please. Is Cecilie all right?”

  The Earl handed Bates his hat and gloves and turned to them. “Cecilie is fine. And so is the Viscount.”

  For a moment Aggie thought she would sink from pure relief, but she rallied herself. “Thank God.”

  “That is all I wish to hear,” said the Countess. “The day has been a trying one. I believe I shall take a nap before dinner.” She glanced at her son. “Why don’t you take Aggie into the library and tell her all about it? I will get the details at dinner.”

  The Earl inclined his head and, taking Aggie by the elbow, guided her back into the library and seated her on a divan. She was uncomfortably aware of his nearness when he settled himself beside her, but her first concern was for Cecilie. “Please,” she begged, “tell me.”

  He glanced down at her. “I told you not to worry,” he said gently.

  Aggie found a great lump in her throat. “I - I could not help it.”

  He nodded as though understanding her feelings. “I followed them. It was easy enough - a young woman with golden hair and a monkey. But I went to several of their stops to be sure. At the fourth place they had delayed to eat and the kitchen maid definitely remembered Heatherton’s dark hair. Set your mind at rest, my dear, Cecilie now has a husband. Or will shortly.”

  And I must leave you, Aggie’s heart cried, but her lips said only, “I am very glad.”

  “Except for the small hitch caused by Gale’s letter I thought my plan worked famously.”

  His grin was infectious and even in her pain she managed a smile. “Your plan, milord?”

  “Well, at least I put it into effect. And it worked.”

  Aggie nodded. “Yes, it did. Most fortunately for us all.”

  Denby reached out and took her hands in his. “We did it, Aggie. We actually got Cecilie well married.”

  She nodded, finding it difficult to speak. She tried to pull her hands away, but he held them fast. “Now,” she said, her voice low, “now I can open my school. I should be ready to leave in a few days.”

  “I think not.” His tone had become harsh and in confusion Aggie raised her eyes to his.

  “I must,” she said over the lump in her throat. “I cannot remain here.”

  The Earl’s brows drew together. “You are not going anywhere,” he said crisply. “At least, not until you have explained something to me.”

  Again Aggie struggled to release her hands, but he only squeezed them tighter. “I can conceive of nothing more that need be discussed between us,” she said.

  “That,” he replied as his dark brows grew even closer, “is immaterial since I can. Stay here,” he said and there was no disobeying what was plainly a command.

  With a sigh Aggie sank back against the cushions. She would simply have to bear it as best she could. He must let her go sometime. As he took a key from his pocket and opened a drawer in the desk, he kept glancing at her as though she might disobey him. Then, taking a letter from the drawer, he returned to her side.

  Aggie felt her body respond to his nearness as he stood towering over her. “Read this,” he ordered brusquely.

  She took the letter in fingers that trembled. She was so very tired; but there was no use in trying to explain that to him. His face was set in harsh implacable lines. Best to do as he said, to get it over with.

  “Note the direction,” he commanded.

  Obediently she let her eyes rest there. It was an old letter, she saw now, wrinkled and stained, and it was directed to the Viscount Acton.

  “Open it.”

  Her fingers moved to do his will. The letter lay unfolded before her.

  “Read it aloud.”

  Aggie swallowed several times, moistening her dry lips with her tongue. In spite of all her efforts she couldn’t stop the trembling of her hands. That, and the blur of tears in her eyes, made the words well nigh unreadable. “I - I cannot,” she managed to stammer.

  Strong white fingers plucked the paper ruthlessly from hers. “Then listen. ‘Acton - This is to deny you permission to wait upon my daughter. She wants no more to do with you and laughs at the suggestion of an alliance between you. Young women, as you well know, like to play with the affections of men. Unfortunately, my daughter has set her cap for a certain man who shall remain unnamed. She has merely been using you to raise jealousy in another.’“

  He paused and glared at her. Aggie could feel the heat of his stare even though she did not look at him.

  “What do you say to that?” he demanded.

  She shook her head in bewilderment. “What should I say? Why are you reading such things to me?”

  Cursing volubly, the Earl yanked her to her feet. Thrown against the expanse of his waistcoat, Aggie could only remain there until, his hands gripping her upper arms, he pushed her back from him. “I warn you, Aggie. No more of this missish innocence.” He shook her roughly, causing her hair to tumble loose from its knot, and fall to her shoulders in a rich brown cloud.

  “I - I don’t know what you mean,” she gasped when she could regain her breath. “Please, Denby, just let me go.”

  “No!” The word reverberated through the room. “I want to know why, Aggie.” He glared down at her.

  “Why what?” She was growing more and more bewildered. His actions seemed those of a madman, but she hadn’t the strength left to fight him.

  “Aggie! Stop this.” Even though her eyes were swimming with tears, she could see the agony in his face. “Why did you use me and reject me like that?”

  For some moments shock kept her silent. Finally she found her tongue. “Me! Use you!” Her laugh was tinged with hysteria. “It was you who used me. You who left me without a word. Ho
w could you?” Her legs gave way then and without his grasp on her arms she would have slipped to the floor at his feet. But she forgot that in her amazement at the look of incredulity on his face.

  “Aggie! What are you saying? You heard the letter. Who was he? I must know.” His brows met in that darkening scowl which signified his anger.

  She shook her head, her loosened hair floating in a caress across his fingers. “What has that letter to do with me?”

  His jaw jutted grimly. “As you well know, it was written by your father. At your request, no doubt.”

  “No!” The cry was a wild wail. “I didn’t! I never -” Then she collapsed into wild sobbing.

  Denby half led and half carried her to the divan and held her patiently while she sobbed against his waistcoat. Finally she raised her head. The green eyes were dimmed by tears and her nose reddened, but the Earl did not notice. “What do you mean - you didn’t?” he asked softly.

  Aggie sniffed and he pressed a clean white handkerchief into her hands. She dabbed at her face. “How can you accuse me of such a thing? I waited and waited, but you were gone.”

  “Aggie.” His arm was warm around her shoulders. “You mean you knew nothing of this letter?”

  “Nothing.”

  “But why, why would your father do such a thing?”

  Aggie shook her head. “Please, let me see

  it.”

  He took the letter from the table beside him and put it in her hands.

  Aggie studied it for some moments. “It is my father’s hand,” she said finally. “But I knew nothing of it. He - he behaved very strangely sometimes in those last years. But I never thought he would do such a thing.” She raised pleading eyes. “You must believe me, Denby. He said no word to me of it.

  I-” She took a deep breath. “I concluded that you - had tired of me.”

  The hand that clasped her shoulder tightened. “Never! The receipt of this so unnerved me that I left immediately to join the forces fighting Napoleon.”

  “If only you had come to me first.” The words were out before she belatedly recalled that his lordship was now pledged to another.