Spoiled

by Barker, Ann

  ‘Yes, and so must you be,’ Evangeline retorted. ‘Elsie, if you so much as breathe a single word about what happened in Sheffield, then I will give that blue gown I promised you to … to Cassie the housemaid.’ Elsie and Cassie were fierce rivals, especially where attracting the local menfolk was concerned.

  ‘Miss, you wouldn’t!’ Elsie exclaimed.

  ‘See you keep quiet and I won’t have to.’

  Evangeline was in no danger of being exposed by Michael. He was far too concerned about his own position. He had thought just to have a little harmless fling before learning his fate. No one knew better than he how damaging it would be if the story of his adventure got back to the bishop. What would be seen in a young gentleman as a piece of harmless if rather desperate flirtation would be condemned in a clergyman as behaviour unsuitable to a man of the cloth, especially if that clergyman had already blotted his copybook. There would be no escape from unfrocking on another occasion. He would simply have to rely on the fact that Evangeline’s reputation would suffer as much as his.

  He looked at himself in the mirror, remembered the moment when his mouth had sought hers, and smiled as he thought about the intoxicating taste of her kiss. Pull yourself together, Buckleigh, he told himself severely. He stood, gave his neck-cloth a last tweak, straightened the sleeves of his best evening coat and left his room to go downstairs.

  The meal, which was served by the landlord on a table which had been laid by his wife in the taproom, was plain but excellent, consisting of a roast chicken and a beef pudding with cabbage and carrots, followed by baked apples, some jam tarts and bread and cheese.

  Mr Granby made his wife’s apologies before they sat down. ‘The journey has worn her out so she begs to be excused,’ he said. ‘Following your recommendation, sir, she is having a bowl of soup in her room.’

  Michael expressed his regrets. ‘I trust that a night’s sleep will restore her,’ he said politely. Both Michael and Evangeline approached the table a little warily, for despite the decisions that each had made, neither really trusted the other not to make some embarrassing disclosure. Hunger soon took over from anxiety, however, and Michael, who did indeed have as healthy an appetite as might be found in a young man of twenty-eight, did full justice to his plateful. Evangeline also enjoyed her food and, although pride demanded that she should make unflattering contrasts between the fare on offer at The Pheasant and that which graced the tables of the ton, she ate some of everything that was put in front of her.

  For a time, the conversation ranged around general subjects such as the meal, the state of the roads, the recent weather and the Derbyshire scene. Eventually, however, Mr Granby said, ‘Are you far from home, Mr Buckleigh? Do you come from this part of the world?’

  ‘I was born some fifty miles away from here,’ he replied. ‘My stepfather still lives there with my sister. What of you, sir?’

  ‘Unlike yourself, we have a mere ten miles or so to travel to our destination, ’ Granby replied. ‘We have been in Sheffield for a family wedding.’

  ‘I, too, have been in Sheffield,’ Michael responded.

  ‘How strange it would have been had we caught sight of one another,’ Evangeline remarked, as she picked up her glass of wine.

  ‘But we would not have known one another’s identities,’ Michael pointed out. For a moment, she looked at him over the rim and he was reminded most forcibly of the few moments before he kissed her. His gaze dropped to her lips, she coloured and her glance fell away.

  ‘Were you in Sheffield on business, Mr Buckleigh?’ Granby asked.

  ‘In a manner of speaking. I was paying a visit to my bishop, and I am now travelling to take up a new curacy in this area.’

  There was a clatter as Evangeline dropped her fork on to the floor. The landlord was not in the room, so Mr Granby, waving to Michael to sit down, stood up and went to the door to ask for a clean one.

  ‘How long are you going to keep up this masquerade?’ Evangeline hissed.

  ‘What masquerade?’ Michael whispered back.

  ‘This pretence of being a clergyman.’

  ‘It’s no pretence: I am a clergyman.’

  ‘Then you should be ashamed of yourself,’ she whispered.

  ‘I am not in the least ashamed of being a clergyman,’ Michael responded.

  ‘What was that?’ asked Mr Granby, who had just returned to the table, and had therefore heard Michael’s last sentence. ‘Ashamed of being a clergyman? I should think not. Whatever were you thinking of, Evangeline?’

  ‘I was only wondering whether in some circles Mr Buckleigh might find his calling … inconvenient.’

  Michael laughed. ‘Inconvenient perhaps, but real none the less,’ he replied.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Granby nodding. ‘And where might your appointment be?’

  ‘I am to be the curate of Illingham,’ Michael explained. ‘Do you know it? My vicar is Mr Lusty. Perhaps you have heard of him?’

  Evangeline dropped her spoon this time, luckily only onto her dish. ‘Oh yes, we’ve heard of him,’ she put in, her tone a little on the cynical side.

  ‘You know, this is quite extraordinary,’ exclaimed Mr Granby. ‘We reside between Illingham and Ashbourne, and are members of your future congregation.’

  This time, it was Michael’s turn to drop his fork.

  Mr Granby glanced from one to the other. ‘Really you young people are exceedingly careless with your cutlery this evening,’ he remarked, then looked self-conscious as he realized that he was criticizing the clergyman as well as his daughter.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Michael, making a swift recovery. ‘I was simply astonished at my good fortune. You will be able to tell me all about my future appointment.’

  ‘That will probably take all of two minutes,’ observed Miss Granby tartly. ‘It’s the dullest place you ever did see and there’s nothing whatsoever to do. Although I am sure that Mr Buckleigh will find plenty to absorb him.’

  ‘I am certain he will,’ said her father.

  After a little more conversation, Evangeline stood up. ‘I can see you are going to be talking about Illingham for ever, so I shall retire. Good night, Papa.’

  The gentlemen stood up. ‘Good night, Miss Granby,’ said Buckleigh, bowing.

  Evangeline dropped a small curtsy and turned to go. ‘Evangeline,’ Granby prompted.

  Michael was half expecting her to say that she had already said good night and she wasn’t going to say it again. Instead she said ‘Good night, Mr Buckleigh’, before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

  Granby sighed. ‘I must apologize for my daughter,’ he said wearily, as if it was something that he had either done or thought about doing many times before.

  ‘There is no need,’ Buckleigh answered politely. Then when Granby’s disbelieving gaze met his, he added, ‘A person of Miss Granby’s age is surely old enough to make her own apology.’

  ‘I apologize because it is I who indulged her,’ the other man admitted frankly. ‘My wife has always sought to check me, but, as perhaps you can see, she has never been strong. Evangeline is our only child and, because she was rather sickly when small, she became extra precious to us. Now, with years of hindsight to aid me, I see that I allowed this circumstance to make me foolishly fond and over-indulgent.’

  ‘I see,’ Michael answered. He had become used to the fact that his position as a man of the cloth meant that many people chose to confide in him much more quickly than in any other stranger.

  ‘You must not allow this evening’s events to make you think the worst of her, however. She can be good-natured and very kind, but she has been visiting cousins, and my sister-in-law is rather apt to make unfavourable comparisons between her daughters’ behaviour and that of Evangeline. It puts her out of temper I’m afraid. Now, to other matters. Let me tell you about Illingham.’

  Michael was delighted to find an unexpected source of information with regard to the place where he would soon earn his living.
When he looked at the clock some time later, he was amazed to see how late it was. He expressed his sincere thanks to Mr Granby who shook his head dismissively. ‘Not at all, not at all. I am delighted to have been of service. May I ask how you are travelling, Mr Buckleigh?’

  ‘On my own two feet,’ answered the clergyman, trying not to sound sorry for himself.

  ‘Then you must travel with us on the morrow,’ Granby declared. ‘I fear you would have a muddy walk otherwise.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ replied Buckleigh. ‘I admit that I was not looking forward to it.’

  Soon after this last exchange, the two men retired to their rooms. Michael did not prepare for bed immediately, but stood looking out into the darkness of the inn yard. On the one hand, he could not help being delighted that he had met and been befriended by a prominent member of his congregation. On the other, he had no way of knowing how discreet Evangeline might be. If she chose to reveal what had happened between them in Sheffield, then the consequences could be disastrous, especially if she chose to give the impression that he had somehow forced her to go into a private room. His heart sank at the very thought. He told himself that he would have to behave towards her with the greatest circumspection. Even so, part of him was conscious of a surge of excitement; in anticipation of what, he hardly knew.

  Chapter Three

  The following morning, mindful of his duty, Michael read the Morning Office before coming downstairs. As it was quite early, he also had time to read a chapter or two of Tom Jones. Even so, he found that he was still downstairs before the Granbys.

  If asked to hazard a guess as to which of the family would appear first, he would probably have put his money on Mr Granby. It was Evangeline who entered the parlour before either of her parents, however.

  She had been awake half the night wondering whether Mr Buckleigh would keep quiet about their encounter in Sheffield. Ironically enough, had he been the buccaneer that he had first appeared, she would have felt more secure. Such a man, after a flirtatious glance or two, or a pleading look, would probably keep such an encounter to himself. The trouble with clergymen, or so it seemed to her, was that they could display a tiresome tendency to tell the truth, however inconvenient or inappropriate. Mr Buckleigh might therefore feel bound to tell Mr and Mrs Granby about the bad behaviour of their daughter, even though it would reflect upon him personally. It might even become known locally that she, Evangeline Granby, the toast of London during two seasons, had actually permitted the curate to kiss her! How foolish would she look then? That was the kind of escapade that parlour boarders of sixteen got up to! No, something had to be done and, for this reason, she had resolved upon approaching Mr Buckleigh to make sure that he kept quiet.

  Glancing round rapidly, she said, ‘I am glad that I have found you alone, Mr Buckleigh, for I feel that there is something that I must make clear to you.’

  ‘I am at your service,’ the clergyman replied. He had risen at her entrance, and now he pulled a chair out for her.

  ‘We must not waste time, sir, for I fear that Mama and Papa will be coming down soon. In short, I would like to know whether you have any plans to disclose what passed between the two of us.’

  ‘What passed between the two of us when, Miss Granby?’ he responded.

  His words had been intended to act as a reassurance that he was prepared to forget about the whole matter, but Evangeline, not catching his tone, did not grasp his meaning. ‘You know perfectly well to what I am referring,’ she snapped. ‘I mean the encounter between us in Sheffield.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ he replied. ‘Very improper.’ Again, she missed the teasing note in his voice.

  ‘Improper! I should think it was,’ she answered, springing to her feet. ‘And you a clergyman! You have already heard that we know the vicar well. What would Mr Lusty say if he were told that you had lured a young woman into an inn in order to make love to her?’

  ‘You know perfectly well that the luring came just as much from you,’ Michael responded, her aggressive approach removing at one and the same time any desire either to tease or to reassure. ‘When I think how you looked at me from across the street, your every glance conveying “come hither”.’

  ‘I had something in my eye,’ Evangeline responded defensively. He gave a snort of derisive laughter. ‘As if I would respond to the lures cast out by some down-at-heel ne’er-do-well.’

  ‘Liar,’ he said softly. She had been pacing up and down the room. Now, when she turned, she found that she was standing very near to him, almost as close as when they had been together in that little inn in Sheffield, just before he had taken her in his arms. Really, he was far too preposterously handsome for a clergyman! It should not be allowed! Briefly, tension crackled between them.

  She gave a little gasp. ‘If you dare to kiss me again, I shall slap you hard, and tell Papa that you forced your attentions upon me,’ she said.

  He stepped back as if stung. ‘I would not dream of touching you, ma’am,’ he told her coldly. ‘Don’t disturb yourself; I will keep the Sheffield episode to myself; but I shall be watching you for any signs of impropriety, you may be sure.’

  ‘And I you,’ she retorted, as the sound of footsteps on the stairs warned them that Mr and Mrs Granby were descending. ‘One wrong step and I shall report you to the bishop, mark my words.’

  Mr and Mrs Granby greeted their daughter with affection and Mr Buckleigh with courtesy. The clergyman noticed that with a night’s rest, Mrs Granby had acquired more colour and looked much better as a result. He was now able to detect that it was from her that Evangeline had inherited her remarkable beauty.

  After a few desultory remarks about the improved weather, they sat down to breakfast together. Like dinner the evening before, the meal was brought out and placed on a table in the taproom. There was home-cured bacon, eggs and fresh bread, as well as preserves and fruit. Ale and coffee were provided to wash breakfast down. Michael and Mr Granby both enjoyed a hearty plateful, and Michael noticed that Evangeline also had a good appetite. Mrs Granby, however, merely played with a piece of bread and jam, and drank a very weak-looking cup of coffee.

  They chatted easily over the meal, Miss Granby’s sunny good-humour in marked contrast to her demeanour when speaking to Michael before her parents had arrived. Clearly the young lady had a talent for dissembling. When they had finished, she held out her hand to Michael as they stood up. ‘I will wish you goodbye then, Mr Buckleigh, and look forward to seeing you soon.’

  ‘Evangeline, my angel, Mr Buckleigh will be travelling with us today,’ said her father.

  For an instant, an impatient look flashed across Evangeline’s features before she said, ‘Delightful! We shall be able to continue our conversation on the journey.’

  Michael bowed and left the taproom, in order to go upstairs and gather his belongings together, and shortly afterwards, the Granbys also left the table.

  Michael was determined not to force his companions to converse with him, so he took his copy of Tom Jones into the chaise, prepared to bury himself in his book. In the event, however, Mr Granby was very keen to talk and, as he himself had been to Oxford some years before, they had much to discuss.

  ‘There is a scholarly man, Dr Littlejohn by name, who lives quite close to our house,’ Mr Granby remarked. ‘He also went to Oxford and I’m sure you’ll find much in common with him. You may want to call on Lady Agatha Rayner as well. Her husband was our vicar until his death.’

  ‘That’s an extraordinary way of putting things,’ Evangeline remarked. ‘Having to call on Lady Agatha, perhaps; needing to do so, possibly; putting off doing so, frequently; but wanting to do so? I think not.’

  Mrs Granby turned to Michael. ‘You must excuse Evangeline, Mr Buckleigh. She has too many memories of having been made to feel uncomfortable by Lady Agatha.’

  ‘Oh have done, Mama,’ said Evangeline impatiently. She had intended to sound witty. Her mother’s intervention has made her seem childish, uncivil and faintly
pathetic.

  ‘I shall certainly wish to call upon her and upon all my parishioners,’ said Michael to Mr Granby, after casting a brief, disapproving look at Evangeline. He wished that his words did not make him sound irritatingly pious. In truth, it was not what she had said about Lady Agatha that had shocked him, but her manner towards her mother.

  Evangeline gave a snort of disdain, at which her mother murmured, ‘Evangeline dearest,’ in protest. How often must she have felt obliged to do that, Michael wondered?

  He leaned back, and took up his book, but before he could read more than a line or two, the chaise came to an abrupt halt, and muffled shouts were heard from outside.

  ‘What have we stopped for now?’ Miss Granby asked curiously.

  ‘I don’t wish to alarm any of you, but I very much fear that we may have fallen prey to highwaymen,’ said Michael in calm tones.

  ‘Highwaymen!’ exclaimed Mr Granby, looking anxiously at his wife.

  ‘Oh merciful heavens,’ murmured Mrs Granby, turning as pale as she had been the previous night.

  Her husband grasped her hand. ‘There there, my dear,’ he said reassuringly. ‘We never carry valuables. We have nothing worth stealing.’

  Michael glanced involuntarily at Evangeline. He had heard of highwaymen whose vileness did not stop at relieving people of their belongings. Her beauty was enough to attract the attentions of any man as he himself knew only too well. Her eyes met his. In that moment, he knew that she understood what he was thinking. He gave her a brief nod. In it, he sought to convey that he would do all that he could to protect her.

  Before Mr Granby had finished speaking, they heard the cry of ‘Stand and deliver!’ which confirmed Buckleigh’s suppositions.

  ‘You had best pray for us,’ said Miss Granby, looking perfectly calm. Inside, she was feeling very afraid, but something about the resolute demeanour of the clergyman gave her courage.