The Fugitive Heiress

by Amanda Scott

  “That relationship looks promising.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Catheryn agreed. “Mr. Ashley’s cousin seems to be perfect for Teddy.”

  “I don’t know about perfect,” declared Miss Lucy. “Seems a bit easy-going. That lad’s a handful and no mistake. Ought to have a birch rod along with all those books, if you ask me.”

  Catheryn held her peace and was delighted when Miss Lucy offered to show her over the house. They had reached the ground floor and stood in the octagonal stair hall. Miss Lucy pushed open one of a set of double doors set under the curve of the great stone stair and preceded Catheryn into a magnificent drawing room. The north wall was fully glazed with French doors leading onto a lovely, symmetrical terrace. Broad, curved steps swept down to the gardens, and Catheryn had a clear view beyond to the lake and the Home Wood. The view was incredible.

  From the drawing room Miss Lucy turned west and guided her through a saloon to the long gallery, pausing to view a charming inner courtyard with a fountain in the center. Catheryn soon came to realize that the house was symmetrical, a huge four-story central block with wings attached by stairway passages at each corner. East and west courtyards balanced each other, as did the pedimented portico and colonnade of the south entrance balance the magnificent terrace to the north. She wondered aloud that the lovely inner court had no mate on the east side.

  Miss Lucy nodded. “I’ll show you.” They passed through the great hall and into the room from which the old lady had made her entrance the night before. “Dambroke’s study,” she noted briefly, turning briskly to the left into a narrow alcove. At the end was a door somewhat smaller than the others in the house, so Catheryn was totally unprepared for what lay on the other side. Dambroke’s library was large enough to be a ballroom; but, unlike the other rooms she had seen, it was cavernous and gloomy, for the only light came from clerestory windows above the bookshelves lining its walls. Surrounded as it was by other rooms—the study, East Hall, dining room, and another saloon—the library had no direct egress to the outside. One could enter through the alcove door from the study or through the larger double doors from the East Hall. Miss Lucy pointed out that, though it was a bit dim by day, it was lovely in the evenings with a cheerful fire, and added that it was Dambroke’s favorite room.

  When they parted company after the tour, Catheryn still didn’t know what to make of the old lady, for she seemed to maintain a polite distance between them. As the days settled into a pattern, Catheryn saw her only at meals, for Miss Lucy spent the mornings busy with her own affairs, avoided the schoolroom, and retired early in the evenings. Thanks to MacClaren, Catheryn spent her own mornings riding Psyche or walking in the gardens; but, once he had gone for the day, she found herself racking her brain for ways to keep Teddy amused. She sent word to the countess of the boy’s improvement and, Friday morning, she received a letter from Tiffany.

  It was mostly town gossip. She mentioned the assassination briefly, with no indication that it had cast a cloud over her activities, except that Dambroke, she added, was going about like a bear with a sore head. Catheryn read more carefully. Evidently, the earl had said very little after a conversation with his mother, from which that lady seemed, if Catheryn read the crossed and recrossed lines correctly, to have emerged in tears. There was room for doubt, however, since he had also given his sister permission to have a new gown made for the forthcoming masque. Tiffany neglected to mention when or even if he intended to visit the Park. Catheryn set the letter aside with a sigh of frustration. Teddy was beginning to rebel against staying in bed, and she knew that he was also anxious to know when Dambroke was coming.

  She was engaged in a dispute with her young charge that very afternoon and had just agreed to send for Dr. Quigley so Teddy could ask for himself when he might be let out of bed, when John brought the message. “Miss Catheryn, his lordship would like to speak with you in the study, if you please.”

  For a moment, Catheryn and Teddy looked at each other in dismay; then Teddy spoke with studied nonchalance. “I don’t s’pose you need get Quigley here today, Cathy. I’d just as lief stay in bed till tomorrow.”

  She smiled her understanding. “You may tell his lordship that I shall be down as soon as I have changed my gown, John.”

  The young footman hesitated. “Begging your pardon, miss, but he said ‘at once.’ He’s in a bit of a temper, Miss Catheryn.”

  She glanced at Teddy, but the boy was relaxed, clearly trusting her to deal with Dambroke, for the moment at least. Very well, she thought, then she would need her wits about her, and she could not face him in a plain round gown with her hair very likely mussed. She spoke firmly. “You tell him I shall be down directly, John.” Reluctantly, he departed as Teddy shot her an impudent wink and wished her luck.

  Catheryn hurried to her room and rang for Mary, repressing an excitement that had nothing to do with the earl’s probable temper. Without waiting, she stripped off her dress, splashed cold water on her face, and was halfway into a lovely gown of pale blue mull muslin trimmed with ribbons of shaded silk by the time her maid arrived. Mary quickly brushed her hair into a simple tumble of curls and, in a very short time indeed, Miss Westering descended to the study. John waited unhappily by the door. She smiled at him, took a deep breath, and nodded for him to admit her.

  Dambroke stood behind the desk, his expression uncompromising. Catheryn eyed him warily as she approached. By the look of things, his lordship meant to be difficult. “Good afternoon, my lord,” she said calmly, holding out a friendly hand. Dambroke ignored it and gestured to a nearby chair.

  “Sit down, Miss Westering. I sent for you twenty minutes ago.”

  Miss Westering! Reduced to the ranks indeed, Catheryn thought to herself. He certainly looked implacable, but not frighteningly so this time. “I prefer to stand, sir.”

  “No doubt, but I should prefer to sit and cannot do so if you do not. Be seated, if you please.”

  “Very well, my lord.” She settled herself with a graceful swirl of skirts and watched as he sat back in his chair on the other side of the desk.

  “And now, my girl, perhaps you would care to explain your outrageous journey to me.”

  Much better. “Outrageous, my lord?”

  “Quite outrageous,” he growled. “There was no need for you to go haring off in such a way.”

  “Perhaps you would have preferred that your mother make the journey, my lord.”

  “There was no need for anyone to do so, and I—”

  “I disagree, my lord, and you were unavailable.”

  “Don’t interrupt, and stop peppering every sentence with my damned title!”

  “Yes, my lord.” He glared at her.

  “I am waiting for an explanation, Catheryn.”

  “If you truly require one, my lord, I came as a favor to your mother. And I cannot help calling you so,” she added when he bristled, “if you will continue to look so stuffy.”

  “Stuffy! Look here, my girl, I have had a difficult week and am in no mood for impertinence. You had no business to dash down here as you did without so much as a by your leave. It is not your affair to nurse that young hellion, assuming that he needs nursing at all.”

  “He does, my lord,” she replied, keeping her own temper now with difficulty. “And whose affair is it, if not mine?”

  “That is obvious. I am his guardian.”

  “Well, you were not there.” She dared a small chuckle. “And when did you last nurse a sick child, my lord?”

  “Lucy Felmersham can nurse him.”

  “Your mother said Miss Lucy is a featherhead, and Mr. Ashley said she lacks the patience for nursing.”

  “Well, you should not say such things,” he reproved, “and as for Ashley, I’ve already told him what I think of his part in this. Were you aware that he was up nearly the whole of Monday night with the boy?”

  “No, I wasn’t, but if you scolded him, you should not have done so. He was only worried about Teddy.”


  “Would you protect everyone from my wrath, Catheryn?” he asked softly. “You may put your mind at rest. I didn’t scold him. I merely pointed out that he is no use to me in a state of exhaustion, told him he was an addlebrained idiot to put himself to so much trouble, and packed him off to bed.”

  “And that was not scolding!”

  “Certainly not. Ashley knows the difference, believe me. He is my secretary, you know, and is useless in that capacity if he wears himself out staying up all night, whatever the reason. Particularly when he knows very well that he has never been able to sleep while traveling! If he was worried about Edward, it was his duty to call one of the servants to sit up with him. But I do not wish to discuss Ashley,” he went on when she moved to protest. “I am still dissatisfied. I should certainly have been consulted before you took it into your head to dash down here. And what makes you such an expert, for that matter? I daresay you’ve never nursed a sick child before either.”

  “No, I haven’t, my lord. I did nurse a cantankerous old man, however, for quite some time before he d-died, and I am perfectly capable of nursing a small b-boy, whom no one else seems to c-care a whit for. He is better now and at least he knows that someone l-loves him. And … and, even had you been there, you could not have stopped me!” It was not until she was forced to choke back a sob that Catheryn realized she was crying and, to her astonishment, well on the way to hysteria. She could hear the echo of her words in her mind and was overwhelmed. It had been a trying week, but she had not realized the depth of her feelings until his taunt unleashed them.

  He was on his feet, but his words came like a bucket of cold water. “That will do, miss! I find this sort of emotional drivel revolting. Spare me your tears, if you please.”

  Catheryn’s head came up and she stared at him in shock. “Emotional drivel!” Her tears ceased, stanched by fury. “How dare you, sir! You descend upon us with your petty anger—yes, petty, my lord!—and expect us to bow before it. Well, I shall not!” She stood, her breasts heaving, and turned away from him. Her tone was scathing. “You are angry, my lord Dambroke, because we dared to make a decision without your precious advice and consent, because you think your damned authority had been flouted again. You don’t care for your mother’s anxiety. You don’t care about any of us at all—just yourself! You are far and away the most self-centered, arrogant, contemptible—”

  “Enough, Catheryn!” he snapped. His face was drained of color. “I made that stupid statement about ‘emotional drivel’ simply to check your hysterics. This conversation will never be finished if you go to pieces. As for the rest, you are right about only one thing. I was angry that you failed to consult me before you left. You knew where I was and could easily have sent a messenger, and I would certainly have advised restraint. Cousin Lucy’s letter was hardly so agitating as to demand instant action. By God, do you realize that your aunt and uncle are in town and that they think I sent you down here!”

  “Sent me!”

  “Yes, sent you. Your aunt actually insinuated that it was meant to be a payment for my generosity or some such garbage, and your uncle went to great pains to inform me that he has arranged for you to draw upon your own funds.”

  “Excellent,” she said flatly. “I’m sorry if Aunt Agatha injured your sensibilities, sir, but I am grateful for my uncle’s news. As soon as I get back to town I shall begin arrangements for setting up my own household as I had originally intended. I shall then be a trouble to you no longer!” She moved purposefully toward the door.

  “No! Catheryn, wait!” He stepped toward her.

  “This conversation is finished, my lord.” She left the room and fled to her own, half expecting him to follow but not really surprised when he didn’t. Her thoughts and emotions were in a dizzying whirl. She had expected him to be displeased, but his anger seemed out of proportion to the situation. And her own temper amazed her. She had been prepared, she thought, to face his displeasure, so why had she flared up so easily? And why was her heart pounding? And why did the idea of setting up her own household seem so utterly depressing? She flung herself down on the bed, emotionally exhausted, and cried herself to sleep.

  When she awoke she visited briefly with Teddy before dinner and discovered that Dambroke had been to see him and had also spoken with the doctor. Teddy expressed the thought that his brother had seemed a bit subdued. They had talked about Teddy’s ride and Dambroke had promised dire consequences should he ever attempt so crackbrained a trick again, but he had not been nearly so angry as the boy had expected.

  At dinner, Catheryn said very little and avoided the earl’s eye, but to her astonishment Miss Lucy became nearly affable. She inquired into the details of the assassination and discovered that Dambroke, Varling, and Lord Stanthorpe had walked into the lobby of the Commons just after the fatal shot had been fired. The assassin, a man named Bellingham, had given himself up at the scene, and it had been necessary for the three gentlemen to remain in town to give evidence at his trial. Dambroke didn’t know what the outcome had been, since he had left the courtroom directly after speaking his piece.

  After dinner, the earl requested that his port be served in the library. He had brought Miss Lucy a new book, Sense and Sensibility, by a young gentlewoman who preferred to remain anonymous, and he readily agreed to the old lady’s suggestion that he read aloud to them while they tended to their needlework. He said nothing to Catheryn, but a momentary truce seemed to be declared. Miss Lucy’s early bedtime was forgotten, and even Catheryn soon found herself chuckling over the absurd conversations between John Dashwood and his parsimonious spouse. This comfortable diversion became their evening routine.

  Teddy emerged from his bedchamber Saturday morning, still wobbly but determined, and escaped thankfully to the great outdoors. Catheryn knew his freedom was not as complete as he would have wished, because Dr. Quigley insisted that he must proceed cautiously. Added to this was his lordship’s assertion that, if he was well enough to traipse around outside, he was well enough to attend to proper lessons. Therefore, at his first meeting with the earl, Mr. MacClaren was instructed to set up a regular study schedule and see that Teddy adhered to it. What with the doctor on one side and Dambroke on the other, Catheryn thought it spoke volumes for MacClaren’s skill that he seemed to satisfy them both. Teddy had lessons every morning and was left a light schedule of tasks to perform each afternoon. Indeed, these tasks were so light at first that Monday young Master Dambroke neglected to do them at all. He quickly discovered that merry Mr. MacClaren had a rough edge to his tongue if roused sufficiently to use it, and virtuously informed Catheryn that he would not repeat the error.

  The earl had not mentioned returning to town, and Catheryn was oddly reluctant to bring up the subject. It was nearly anticlimactic, and she wasn’t certain why she continued to avoid conversation with him, unless it was out of fear that she would need to make good her own threat. Miss Lucy’s attitude seemed to have changed considerably since Dambroke’s arrival and Catheryn found her much more approachable. They had several interesting conversations, and when Catheryn suggested that she would like to make Teddy a shirt, Miss Lucy provided both pattern and material.

  While she spent her mornings with Miss Lucy or with Teddy and MacClaren in the schoolroom, she discovered from Bert that he and Dambroke were working with Blaze, schooling him to more civil conduct. The earl had been ready to sell the horse but had evidently changed his mind after seeing the progress Ditchling had made working on his own. She knew he spent his afternoons taking long rides, visiting tenants, or discussing business with his bailiff. Once or twice he even took Teddy with him in the gig, since Quigley had vetoed riding for the time being. Dambroke also took the boy fishing. Catheryn was delighted with their warming relationship and began, as each day passed, to feel more in charity with the earl. He seemed content enough, though she caught his pensive gaze upon her more than once.

  XVII

  THE DAYS PASSED QUICKLY, and soon another week was gon
e. Friday morning Dambroke received a letter from his sister, which he read with amusement to Catheryn and Miss Lucy. Aside from a passing mention of the fact that he would be pleased to hear that the assassin Bellingham had been found guilty and publicly hanged at Newgate the previous Monday and a confirmation of Mr. Caston’s betrothal, Tiffany’s letter dealt mostly with her own raptures and hints about her costume for the duchess’s ball, to be held that very evening.

  “She’s full of gossip,” added the earl, scanning ahead to decipher the next paragraph. “Here’s a bit about Tony’s latest prank. He made off with one from each pair of Maggie’s shoes. Tiff says, ‘he devised a clever treasure hunt, sending her hither and yon.’ I’ll wager poor Maggie didn’t think it so clever. ‘Hither’ seems to have been our house and ‘yon’ was Hyde Park!”

  “Captain Varling has always had a rather highly developed sense of humor,” observed Miss Lucy dryly.

  “It can be a damned nuisance,” said Dambroke.

  “But it makes him understanding of others,” Catheryn mused, remembering his reaction to Teddy’s prank.

  Either her words or Miss Lucy’s glare at his use of the epithet drew a grin from his lordship. “Tiff ends with a postscript inquiring about Teddy. Glad she thought of it, though he does seem to be on the mend at last.” Catheryn held her breath, expecting him to say something about returning to town, but he merely turned the conversation to another topic.

  Teddy was late to dinner and had to be sent away again to make himself presentable. When he returned at last with face and hands polished to a rosy glow and wearing a clean shirt, Catheryn smiled, thinking how right the earl was and how much better he looked. She knew his shoulder and ribs were still painful but, boylike, he seemed to ignore his aches and to do much as he pleased despite the doctor’s orders. He grinned at her now with a look that made her wonder what mischief he had been up to.