Regency Admirer/The Merry Gentleman/The Gentleman's Demand

by Meg Alexander

  Finally she emptied the teapot and turned to the landlord in surprise.

  “Why, sir, I believe your spoons are here! Sheer carelessness, I call it! You must keep a closer eye upon your kitchen-maids.” She was moved to accept his apologies with good grace, but the coachman eyed her with suspicion.

  The woman ignored him as she took her seat once more. She winked at Elizabeth. “Surly crittur! That will teach him a lesson!”

  Elizabeth smiled, but she was feeling desperately weary. She closed her eyes and slept for several hours.

  When she awoke it was to find herself nestling comfortably within the shelter of Perry’s encircling arm. He was gazing down at her with an expression of such tenderness that her heart turned over. Her enchanting smile peeped out as he bent towards her, but it was merely to tell her that they had almost reached their destination.

  He seemed about to say more, but the other travellers were awake, and the opportunity was lost.

  In the darkness she could see little of her surroundings, but as they rattled on through the streets of London she realised that the city was much larger than she had supposed. Suddenly she was afraid. In a short time now she must leave the protection of the man she loved to face this alien world alone.

  Perry sensed her feelings, but there was little he could do to comfort her. It was not until they had been set down, and he’d hired a passing jarvey that they found themselves alone.

  “Don’t worry!” he murmured gently. “Now you will be safe.”

  When she turned to him her smile was tremulous. She longed to tell him that she had no wish to be safe in the company of her aunt. Her lips quivered as she fought the urge to beg him not to leave her.

  “Don’t look like that, Elizabeth! All will be well, I promise you.” It was only with a supreme effort that he stopped himself from taking her in his arms and covering her face with kisses. Yet he knew that he must not speak now, when she was so vulnerable.

  He would do his best to win her, but if she ever agreed to wed him, it must be because she loved him, rather than because she was afraid of the unknown.

  When they drew up at the house in Mount Street, he handed her down from the carriage, and turned to pay the driver. Elizabeth stood motionless beside him.

  Then, much against his will, he guided her lagging footsteps to the door. The knocker had not been removed, so the owner must be in residence. He reached out and sounded a loud tattoo.

  There was a lengthy silence. Then he knocked again and they heard the sound of shuffling footsteps.

  The door opened to reveal an ancient individual who gave them a look of mute enquiry.

  “We are here to see Miss Mary Grantham,” Perry said firmly.

  “Who shall I say is calling, sir?”

  “Miss Grantham...Miss Elizabeth Grantham. She is come to visit her aunt.”

  The porter gave them a look of consternation. “I don’t know, sir, I’m sure. Madam said that she was not to be disturbed under any circumstances. She ain’t at home to anyone.”

  “She must be at home to her own niece.” Perry shouldered his way inside, drawing Elizabeth with him. “You will announce this lady, if you please.”

  “She ain’t expected,” the old man said stubbornly.

  “Do as I say!” Perry roared. His voice had shaken the timbers of the Artemis on many an occasion, and now it sent the porter shuffling away, muttering to himself.

  The wait for his return seemed interminable, but he was back at last.

  “You are to come with me,” he mumbled.

  Elizabeth hung back, tugging at Perry’s sleeve. “I shouldn’t have come,” she whispered. “My father’s letter cannot have arrived.”

  Perry smiled down at her. “Courage!” he said softly. “Let us meet the lady.” He took her arm and urged her on across the hall.

  When they stopped outside the heavy oaken door the voice which bade them enter was clear, deep and authoritative.

  Elizabeth found herself in a room notable only for its disarray. Books lined the walls and lay in piles upon the floor, beside a number of pictures stacked in rows. Dust lay so thick upon the furniture that she might have written her name in it.

  She had no time to look about her further.

  “Come here!” the imperious voice demanded.

  Elizabeth made her way to the far end of the room. Then she stopped, arrested by the odd appearance of her aunt.

  Clad in the fashion of some fifty years earlier, Miss Grantham wore a sacklike garment, apparently made of linen, over her hooped skirt. A woollen cap was perched at an angle upon her powdered wig, and her hands were hidden by thick mittens.

  Thin to the point of emaciation, her eyes were her most outstanding feature. Huge and brilliant, they sparkled with intelligence as she bent them full upon her niece.

  “Well, miss, you won’t get lost,” she announced at last. “You are the image of your mother. Is my brother with you?”

  “He is still in Genoa, ma’am.”

  “Not sick, I hope.”

  “No, Aunt.”

  “Then why are you here without him? And who is this young man? Have you eloped?”

  “Certainly not!” Elizabeth cried warmly. She introduced Perry, and started upon a halting explanation.

  Miss Grantham heard her out, with only an occasional snort of disgust.

  “I won’t say I’m surprised,” she said at length. “My brother never had much sense.”

  “You shan’t say that!” Elizabeth was stung into making a sharp reply. “He thought that he was acting for the best.”

  “Hoity-toity, miss! Is that what you have learned in Italy...no respect for your elders?”

  “Not if they speak unjustly.” Elizabeth’s face grew pink with anger.

  “Hmm! Well, I suppose that I must take you in.”

  It was not the warmest of welcomes, and Elizabeth was about to beg her not to trouble herself, when a look from Perry stopped her.

  “I think you know my brother, ma’am,” he murmured pleasantly.

  “Heavens, the creature has a tongue! Wentworth, you say? Are you related to the Earl of Brandon?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He is my eldest brother.”

  “Does he know that he has a gapeseed for a relative?”

  “He assures me of it constantly.” Perry grinned at the formidable old lady.

  “Quite right! He ain’t altogether a fool. I know Sebastian better. How does he go on?”

  “He is well, Miss Grantham. Prudence has just given him a second son.”

  “Your mother must be pleased. A sensible woman! I can’t think what queer fancy keeps her always in the country. You may tell her that I’d like to see her if she comes to town.”

  Perry bowed and twinkled at her. “You are very kind, ma’am.”

  “No, I ain’t. Don’t think it! Well, sir, this is a pretty kettle of fish, as I’m sure you will agree.”

  Perry sensed her anxiety as her eyes rested upon Elizabeth.

  “You are thought to be...er...redoubtable, Miss Grantham. Your brother is convinced of it.” His eyes were dancing wickedly.

  “None of your sauce, young man!” She gave him a reluctant smile. “Well, Elizabeth, have you also lost your tongue?”

  Elizabeth was not attending to the conversation. Her eyes were fixed in horrified fascination upon a row of glass jars, neatly arranged upon a shelf, in which were visible certain parts of the human anatomy, preserved in spirits of wine.

  The old lady chortled. “Squeamish, miss? You don’t care to understand the workings of your body?”

  “No, ma’am, it is not that. I was surprised...I did not expect...”

  “If that’s the only surprise you get in life, you will be fortunate. Pray don’t cast up your accounts in here. If you feel faint, put your head between your knees.”

  “Elizabeth won’t faint, ma’am.” Perry made haste to intervene. “She ain’t squeamish in the least. If you had seen her with the wounded, you would not
think it.”

  “You were attacked?” Miss Grantham motioned to her companions to sit down, making way for them by sweeping piles of papers off two chairs.

  “I’m working on a treatise,” she explained. “Now, sir, pray continue. Tell me what happened.”

  As Perry began to speak, her gaze roved from one face to the other. “Elizabeth’, was it, then? The undue familiarity failed to shock her, but it gave her pause for thought. Her niece was clearly a girl of spirit, though she seemed oddly downcast.

  And Wentworth? Though he answered all her questions readily, she sensed that his thoughts were far away.

  It did not take her long to decide the true state of affairs. She waited until Perry had finished his tale.

  “And what now, sir?” she asked. “Do you return at once to Portsmouth?”

  “No, ma’am. I have been granted extended leave.”

  “I see. Your captain was happy to be rid of you? Was that it?”

  “That...and the fact that the Artemis must undergo repairs.” Perry’s smile had lost none of its charm. “Mainly, it is because Captain Robsart wished me to see Elizabeth delivered safely into your care.”

  “Well, you have done so. Shall you go into Kent to see your family?”

  “I think so, ma’am. I have been away for many months. I may return to London to see Frederick.”

  Miss Grantham hid a smile. It would not be the urge to visit his brother which would bring this personable young man back to London. In some amusement, she awaited his next words.

  “I wondered if I might call upon you, ma’am?”

  “Most certainly, my dear sir. You have some particular interest in our movement?”

  “The blue-stockings? Good Lord, no!” Caught unawares, Perry was betrayed into speaking his mind aloud. It was a gaffe of some magnitude, but he made a quick recovery, though his face was scarlet. “I beg your pardon. I should not have mentioned your movement in such terms.”

  “Why not? If we don’t take exception to the label, why should you?” Her face betrayed grim satisfaction at having teased him into an indiscretion. “Yes, you may call upon us, sir. We shall welcome a new member at our meetings, and, who knows, you may learn something.”

  The look of dismay upon his face was nothing short of ludicrous, and Miss Grantham’s composure was sorely tried. She hadn’t enjoyed herself so much for years. Now she waited to see how he would extricate himself from a situation which obviously filled him with dread.

  “I hoped that you might allow me to take Elizabeth driving in Hyde Park, and take her about to see the sights,” he suggested.

  “Did you, indeed! That won’t be possible, Mr Wentworth. That is, unless some understanding exists already between you...?” As she expected, this remark brought an instant response from her companions.

  “No!” they cried in unison. The sharp reaction confirmed her earlier suspicions. These two were deeply in love, though neither would admit it to the other.

  Must she play fairy godmother to these foolish children? The notion diverted her, but when she spoke again her face betrayed nothing of her feelings.

  “We have my niece’s reputation to consider,” she murmured.

  Elizabeth tossed her head. “I don’t care for that!”

  “Then, my girl, you are a fool! To be shunned by society will not make you feel more comfortable, and shunned you will be if you are thought to be fast. That would not please your father.”

  “Of course not!” Perry was quick to accept the inevitable. “But, ma’am, if you cared to drive with us...?”

  He avoided Elizabeth’s eyes, well aware that she despised him for his cowardly acquiescence.

  “You flatter me, sir!” Miss Grantham’s tone was heavy with irony. “We shall see! You have done your part, and I must thank you for it.” She held out her hand to him.

  It was a clear indication of dismissal, and he had no alternative but to accept it. He bowed, and then was gone.

  “Handsome creature, ain’t he?” Miss Grantham said slyly.

  “Who? Oh, you mean Wentworth? I suppose so. I hadn’t given it much thought...”

  This outrageous fib tempted Miss Grantham to enquire if her niece had been afflicted by a sudden attack of blindness but she changed the subject.

  “Come, we must find a room for you,” she announced briskly. “Where are your things?”

  Elizabeth pointed to the small portmanteau by her side.

  “I see. Then you have little more than you stand up in? That is easily remedied. I don’t care much for fal-lals, but if you are to make your come-out...”

  “I don’t wish to make my come-out,” Elizabeth cried in despair. “Aunt, won’t you send me back to Genoa?”

  “Certainly not!”

  “But why? You think my father over-anxious for my safety, and you can’t wish to have me here. I thought you despised society...”

  A grim laugh preceded the reply. “I can afford to do so. You cannot. You have your life before you, and now you have the choice. You may make it as pleasant or as miserable as you wish.” She looked at her niece’s downcast face. “What do you wish, my dear?”

  She had a shrewd idea, but if she’d hoped for a confession of Elizabeth’s love for Perry she was to be disappointed.

  “I don’t know.” Elizabeth turned away. “Freedom, I suppose, and the opportunity to lead my own life. Now you tell me that I may not do so. Aunt, I was told that you did not care for the proprieties.”

  “My dear child, I am very old, and also very rich. A wealthy woman may be allowed her eccentricities. A large sum invested in the Funds doesn’t incur disapproval from any source.”

  This forthright and cynical statement brought an unwilling smile to Elizabeth’s lips.

  “I could do the same,” she suggested.

  “Perhaps...in sixty years’ time!” Without more ado she led the way across the hall, and up the ornate staircase. “Shall you be comfortable in here?”

  Elizabeth looked about her. Even in the light of a single candelabra, the room was awe-inspiring. Not only was it huge, but the massive furniture cast shadows everywhere. It was also very cold.

  Miss Grantham tugged at the bell-rope. “Bessie will light your fire,” she said. “I expect you’d like to take your supper here this evening. Ring for anything you need. I’ll leave you now.” With that she closed the door behind her.

  Elizabeth pulled her cloak about her. She sat down in a wing-chair, shivering uncontrollably, and a prey to a dozen nameless fears.

  She felt bereft. Perry should not have left her with this strange, brusque woman for whom she could never learn to feel the least affection. It was hard to believe that Aunt Grantham was related to her gentle father. She missed him quite dreadfully. That could be the only reason why she felt so close to tears. It was not because of Perry. He had walked away without a second glance.

  She swallowed hastily as she heard a tapping at her door.

  “Madam said that I was to light your fire, miss.” The girl who entered carried a warming-pan, which she thrust into the bed. Then she struck a light from her tinderbox, and set the sticks ablaze.

  “My, but it’s dark in here.” With a generous disregard for the cost of beeswax candles, she moved about the room with a taper, until the soft glow of a dozen candles banished the ominous shadows. “Must I unpack your bag?”

  “Thank you. You are Bessie, are you not?”

  The girl curtsied. It didn’t take her long to dispose of Elizabeth’s few possessions. Then she excused herself.

  “I’ll fetch your supper, ma’am. It will help to warm you up.” Her grin was infectious. “I’m sorry it’s so cold, but this room ain’t used much.”

  Her friendly manner did much to raise Elizabeth’s spirits. When she returned, it was with a tray containing chicken broth, some sliced cold beef, a salad, and some fruit.

  “This is a lot of trouble for you,” Elizabeth said shyly.

  “No trouble, ma’am, and Cook is e
ver so pleased. Miss Grantham don’t eat enough to keep a bird alive...”

  Elizabeth looked at the tray. The broth smelled delicious and suddenly she felt very hungry. With a promise to return in time to help her to retire, Bessie whisked away.

  Elizabeth did full justice to the meal, but by the time she finished, she was feeling drowsy. Grateful for the warmth of the blazing fire, she dozed until the maid returned.

  “Well, now, didn’t I tell Cook that you’d have a good appetite, Miss Elizabeth? Now she’ll be able to make up some of her special dishes for you.” Bessie cast a critical eye upon the visitor. “You look ready for your bed, miss. Let me help you with your gown.”

  Gratefully, Elizabeth submitted to her ministrations. Tucked into the warmth of the enormous bed, she smiled up at Bessie. She hadn’t felt so comfortable since the day she left her father’s house.

  Chapter Ten

  It was many hours before Miss Grantham followed Elizabeth’s example. In the sanctuary of her study she considered the problem now before her.

  The child was a taking little thing, and she had spirit, but how would they deal together?

  She herself was much too wily a bird to change her own brusque manner. She despised emotional blackmail. Her niece must take her as she was. Neither old age nor loneliness must be used as tools to win Elizabeth’s affection.

  Upon one thing she was resolved. The girl must not be allowed to return to Italy. In Elizabeth’s presence she had laughed her brother’s fears to scorn, but they could not be dismissed so lightly.

  Would she herself have stayed in London, braving the rigours of an English winter, were it not for the present situation? Soon all Europe might be ablaze. She was no coward, but neither was she reckless.

  And did Elizabeth really wish to leave? If Peregrine Wentworth should return to London all might yet be well. She grimaced. Now she was matchmaking. It was another female habit she despised.

  Her lips twisted in a smile of pure self-mockery. It was one thing to cherish high-minded notions as to the correct behaviour of the human race. It was quite another to put them into practice. Shaking her head at her own folly, she retired to bed.