Moonstone Obsession

by Elizabeth Ellen Carter

  The younger woman was mortified and flushed bright pink in response.

  “He did! Oh, I know he did, I can see it in your face. I could tell over lunch, that he wanted to, the way he kept looking at you.”

  “I don’t think it’s any your business, Sarah,” Selina snapped.

  Sarah was immediately apologetic. “Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry I embarrassed you, but you deserve some romance and I’m glad it’s him.”

  “It was one kiss Sarah, not a declaration of love and a proposal of marriage.”

  Oh dear, there was that twinkle in Sarah’s eye again, and Selina rued opening her mouth at all.

  “One kiss is usually how it starts,” Sarah retorted.

  Selina threw her arms in the air. “I give up! You and Will are absolutely impossible!

  “You engineer my walk with James and practically forced his mother to invite me to Cornwall. You’ve done just about everything but put a sign around my neck saying ‘free to good home’!”

  She pouted as she looked back at her painting. “James’ attention could just very well be just politeness to the sister of his new business partner. He could easily offer for Lady Abigail by the end of the summer or decide to be off and marry some American woman he’s met.

  “You’re making too much out of one afternoon walk and one kiss. Stop meddling in my life!”

  Selina halted her tirade as she turned and saw the dismay in Sarah’s face and the possibility of tears blooming. She had forgotten that her sister-in-law was prone to crying at little provocation at various times in her pregnancy.

  She left her seat and rushed over to hug her.

  “Oh darling, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry and I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. You and Will want the best for me, I know that.”

  Sarah nodded and dabbed at her eyes and tried a watery smile. Selina gave her another squeeze and sat on the foot stool in front of her.

  “I made a promise yesterday to be open to possibilities,” she began. “So I accept there is a possibility that James might hold me in some regard.

  “I accept the possibility that I might have a pleasant summer at Penventen Hall and I also accept the possibility of having such a pleasant summer that I won’t miss you and the children too desperately.

  “And I accept the possibility that you truly love my artwork.”

  Sarah reached out to hold her hand and smiled. “Open to possibilities… that’s all Will and I want for you.”

  William, dressed for business, walked into the drawing room reading a news sheet, oblivious to the previous tension in the room, but his expression turned suspicious when he saw the two women sitting so closely together and smiling conspiratorially.

  He dropped the hand holding the paper and regarded the two women.

  “Is this something I’m going to regret?” he asked.

  “Not at all Bill, it’s just that Selina has something to ask you,” answered Sarah, giving Selina’s hand a quick squeeze of encouragement.

  William focused his attention on his sister. Selina stood. “Bill, does the offer of shopping in Cheapside and the Strand still stand?”

  Selina knew that would surprise him. Over the past month, she had rebuffed—sometimes rudely—every offer to spend money on herself.

  She grinned at his expression. He assented but no doubt wondered when the other shoe would drop and the inevitable argument would begin. To relieve him of such angst, Selina walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Thank you brother,” she smiled and giggled. “You may close your mouth now; otherwise someone might mistake you for a frog trying to catch flies.”

  Over the shoulder to Sarah, Selina called. “I’m just going to get dressed.”

  William watched his sister leave the room before turning to his wife.

  “Would you mind explaining to me what just happened?” he asked.

  Sarah stood and gave William an enthusiastic hug.

  “I think your sister might be remembering how to live again.”

  * * *

  After spending a pleasant hour viewing the displays of domestic goods as well as exotic merchandise from across the empire, Selina noted that her young companion was becoming restless.

  “Is something amiss, Winifred?”

  “No, miss,” she pouted. “Although I do wish you would buy something already.”

  “Shall we stop for a cup of tea and cake and perhaps chocolates for afters in the next little while?”

  Selina smiled as the expression on Winfred’s face changed from dismay to delight.

  But the shopping proved to be more time consuming, and expensive, than Selina had thought. But still, her purchases were worthwhile—a new walking dress in forest green, fashionably ankle-length with a slim silhouette and a scoop neck emphasised by a short bodice in ecru which tied high on the waist, and, although Selina hardly rode at all, she treated herself to riding habit in deep rose pink with a built-in jacket under which was a cream blouse with a high neckline, trimmed in stripes of plaited gold brocade.

  A formal gown was ordered to be delivered to the Rosewall town house, a shimmering silvery white gown in satin over which an aqua and silvery white redingote was fitted under the shoulders, sculpted and falling to a short train at the back.

  The modiste insisted it was a style favoured by Marie Antoinette herself and, initially, Selina blanched at the price, remarking that she finally understood why France was broke, but she bought it anyway.

  Two more high-waisted embroidered day dresses in teal and sky blue joined the order, and dancing slippers to match the ball gown and sturdy riding boots to go with the riding habit completed what Selina considered the essentials.

  It had all taken too long for Winifred, however. Despite a reviving cup of tea and a cinnamon tea cake, the youngster had gone from willing assistant to tired, bored, and not at all interested by the time she slowed to look into a jewellery shop window.

  The late afternoon sun sparkled on the precious and semi-precious stones in settings of gold and silver.

  Although the rubies and emeralds held their own appeal, Selina found herself fascinated by an iridescent moonstone which flashed lights of pinks and blues. They were set off to their most beautiful in a display of earrings and pendants.

  “Are you tempted by anything Miss Rosewall?”

  Startled, Selina looked up.

  Viscount Canalissy’s reflection manifested itself in the shop window. He stood at her shoulder, a little too close for propriety. A half turn sideways resulted in her shoulder brushing against his chest.

  Once again the feeling of being trapped surged in Selina and a quick scan of the street told her that Winifred had well and truly disappeared.

  Damn that girl!

  Selina collected herself. “There’s plenty to be tempted by, my Lord, but nothing I can afford.”

  “I’ve had quite a good run at cards,” Canalissy smiled rather too smoothly in Selina’s opinion, “so I’m feeling particularly generous. Is there anything you’d like as a gift? Those sapphires that so match the colour of your eyes, perhaps? I would give you those, and plenty more, if you’d let me.”

  James’ warning of yesterday filled her ears and she tried to calm her speeding pulse with the thought that, Viscount or not, he could hardly molest her in the street. She was safe enough in full view of passers-by.

  “That’s a generous offer. I couldn’t possibly accept and it’s most improper of you to make it,” she told him. Annoyance gave her a feeling of control over her unease.

  Lord Geoffrey’s lips thinned.

  “No matter how honourable my intentions, my words seem to have the opposite effect on you.” His voice was controlled but angry. “Any other young woman might have made her refusal more prettily or accepted the gift as a token of esteem, but not you.”

  Canalissy eyed her up and down.

  “I take the time to stop you making a social faux pas at the ball, I educate you about the rela
tionship between Penventen and Lady Abigail, graciously offer you friendship and my valuable time, yet you run away from me, ignore my warnings about engaging with Penventen and then you kiss him in public like a common street whore.”

  Selina’s unease turned to trepidation and then full anger. He had spied on them? Selina fretted, glancing quickly about, but help was nowhere to be seen.

  “I think that’s enough, my Lord. I must be going,” she told Canalissy and pressed her lips firmly together for fear of saying much worse. Then she propelled away from the shop window and down the High Street.

  * * *

  She did not see the round-bodied older man with grey hair pass her, lightly brushing against Canalissy as he dipped his hand into the Viscount’s pocket.

  The aging thief rounded a corner and stopped to open the billfold he had secreted in his sleeve. He ignored the bank and promissory notes. A list of names and numbers caught his attention.

  He slipped the piece of paper into his own pocket and emerged from the alley to shuffle quickly after the Viscount Canalissy, who indeed appeared to be following, at a distance, Sir James’ young lady friend.

  “My Lord, my Lord!” He affected a wheeze and a huff that belied his true physical condition.

  “Yours, I believe,” he said as Canalissy finally stopped. The wallet was proffered with a flourish.

  The young man patted his pockets to confirm the loss. “Empty no doubt,” he grumbled, accepting the wallet.

  “Not at my hand my Lord, I’m as honest as the day is long.”

  Canalissy grunted and quickly scanned the contents. The notes were there.

  “I s’pose you expect a reward, old man.”

  “Why, that would be most generous my Lord.”

  The old man found a sixpence in his hand. Adopting his most humble expression, he tugged his forelock and backed away. “Most gracious, good sir. Most gracious…”

  The Viscount turned and stalked off, visibly annoyed that he had lost his quarry and yet unaware he was being watched by the old man who was now stood fully upright, unconsciously stretching and feeling his vertebrae pop.

  ‘Interesting. Interesting indeed,’ he mused, flipping the coin in his hand and, in his mind, already composing the note he would send by messenger to Penventen.

  Chapter Eight

  5 July 1790

  Selina glanced at her fellow passengers. In front of her, Lady Margaret Westmacott was asleep, as was the aged Captain Mainwaring who sat beside her, both completely at ease by the swaying carriage and the regular pounding of hooves.

  Sharing Selina’s red leather bench was the middle-aged spinster Miss Rosalie Gray, who was engrossed in the latest gothic romance novel. Sitting on the far side of the carriage, Miss Gray’s equally bookish brother John was reading about ancient Rome.

  As she had done frequently on this journey, Selina fixed her gaze out the window, pretending to take an interest in the passing scenery.

  The five day journey by carriage from London to the port city of Bristol, and now on to the seaside town of Padstow in Cornwall—home to the Mitchell family pile, Penventen Hall—left Selina with plenty of time to think about the eventful week just passed.

  She had returned home from her encounter with Viscount Canalissy more shaken then she had wanted to admit.

  How had Canalissy known about her and James? Had he spied on them? Or had he sent others? Were the men who followed them on that Sunday sent by the Viscount?

  Learning that Winifred had arrived home, Selina summoned her immediately. The youngster supposed Selina’s thunderous mood was entirely her fault for wandering off, and Selina used the girl’s apprehension to her advantage.

  She ordered Winifred to take a note to Lord Penventen, to go straight there and speak to no one on pain of being punished severely for her disappearance. Even now, Selina felt a twinge of guilt about threatening to tell Mrs Stout about Winifred’s tarrying with Angus the groomsman if she failed to deliver the message.

  Then, for the sake of her family, Selina had forced herself to pretend that nothing was amiss and put on such an act of carefree gaiety that Sarah was convinced that she was madly in love—a notion particularly reinforced at her relief at the news that Sir James was joining them for dinner the next evening.

  That day had been spent packing for the journey and the indoor activity suited Selina well. She’d had enough of London...

  The next day Winifred bobbed in a correct but unexpected curtsey. “Excuse me, Miss.” Selina must have put the fear of God into the child the previous afternoon.

  The maid had a large bouquet of flowers in her arms. The elaborate display of lilies, roses, and peonies were a riot of colour, and Selina had a sinking feeling that she knew the new owner of the hugely vulgar display.

  “They’re for me?” She hoped for a moment that her brother, in a fit of ardour for his wife, had a momentary lapse of taste and judgement so as to waste a good deal of money on the arrangement.

  “Yes Miss, and there’s a card.”

  “From whom, Winifred?” asked Sarah, who had just walked into the parlour.

  “A footman from Earl Canalissy delivered them for Miss Selina, ma’am.”

  Sarah instructed Winifred to place the flowers in the dining room. When the girl had left, Sarah hugged Selina and laughed.

  “Two of the most eligible men in England are paying you attention and here we were concerned that you’d end up a spinster governess or lady’s companion. Your brother and I needn’t have worried,” she teased.

  “What am I to do, Sarah? I don’t want Lord Geoffrey to pay me attention,” she begged, giving voice to her discomfort for the first time.

  “Well you’re going to have to let him down gently,” Sarah advised. “What if he should show up as a guest at Penventen Hall? The Earl is a good friend of Sir James’ mother.”

  Selina grimaced by way of reply.

  “Then make him understand that you can only accept friendship from him since your affections are attached elsewhere,” counselled Sarah.

  “And that would be entirely his point,” answered Selina, exasperated. “Any affection I have is misplaced because it is fully expected that James will be contracted to marry Lady Abigail by the end of the summer. I’m sure she will be a guest at the house party too.”

  “And if it were true? Would you accept Lord Geoffrey’s pursuit, keeping in mind that James will still be your brother’s business partner even after the summer is over?”

  Selina shook her head. “I couldn’t be so dishonest as to keep any man on a string. And while the Viscount’s regard was flattering at first, there’s something about him that makes me feel uncomfortable and inadequate.”

  It was the truth, although somewhat diluted.

  Thus Selina’s mind was somewhat at rest when James arrived the following night.

  He brought gifts—a small pull-along horse for Charlotte, painted wooden soldiers for the boys, a bouquet of elegant yellow carnations for Sarah, and a bottle of Kentucky bourbon for William.

  With a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, he presented Selina a box of chocolates.

  “I’m given understand that chocolate is a popular gift, Miss Selina,” he teased.

  She noted the momentary distraction of William and Sarah with the children and smiled. “In our case, it appears to be the currency of spies,” she said softly.

  He returned the smile and lowered his voice. “We’ll talk soon...”

  Selina wondered how James would make an opportunity to talk with her alone. First, it was the boys insisting that he direct one more battle with them, then William who wanted more details about safe harbours in New York.

  But finally, she gratefully leapt on Sarah’s suggestion that she might like to take James for a stroll in the back garden while she and William bade the children goodnight.

  Selina and James sat on a garden swing, close enough to the house to be seen, but not overheard.

  He reached for her hand and held
it, his thumb stroking her hand. She found it comforting.

  “It will be all right Selina, just tell me what your note was about,” he asked.

  “The Viscount Canalissy. He knows about us, James. The kiss…”

  She ventured a glance at him but instead of the anger or surprise she found that he was studying her intently.

  “You’re not surprised,” she said. Then realisation dawned. “You already knew?”

  He shrugged. His lack of reaction puzzled her.

  “It means he was spying on us or had spies watching us,” she said, “perhaps even those men who followed us. Does it not concern you?” she asked irritably.

  James shook his head.

  “I see I’ve been mistaken about a few things,” she said abruptly and stood. “Good night Lord Penventen.”

  Instead of letting go of her hand he tugged it.

  “Sit back down Selina. There are a few things I need to tell you,” he instructed quietly.

  This was it, Selina thought, and a lump the size of a grape formed in her throat.

  A dozen scenes played themselves in time it took for Selina to reclaim her seat. They all ended with her heart being broken. She raised her face to his. The warmth was there, but so was wariness.

  “I received another message just before your note. It was from a…friend…who had observed you and Canalissy on the street,” he started cautiously as if gauging her reaction. “He said you looked angry but before he could intervene, you had walked away.”

  “I was angry,” she averred. “He told me that he knew we had kissed…and then called me a common street whore.”

  James closed his eyes and expelled a deep breath.

  “He’s jealous.”

  “Yes, I realise that,” responded Selina sharply. “He said as much in a note that accompanied some flowers today.”

  She pulled the note from a pocket in her skirt and handed it to him.

  “I haven’t dared show Will, otherwise he’d be challenging the Viscount to a duel within the hour.”

  James read the note.

  My darling Selina,

  I have no right to your forgiveness but I beg it anyway. Your beauty drives me to such distraction that I cannot think of anything else. I find myself insane with jealousy at the thought of Penventen touching you as I yearn to and my heart broken that you would prefer his caress despite (perhaps even because?) of his attached state. The fact that it can only end in your being hurt rends my conscience and I feel it a duty to save you from this folly. My courting of you has been clumsy, I know, and if you would but show me the smallest piece of kindness, I would spend the rest of my life as your most obedient servant. I wish to plead my case to you in person and would consider it an honour if you were to suffer my presence once more.