by Barker, Ann
She stood at the window and watched him walk down the drive. For perhaps the hundredth time, she reflected upon how tiresome it had been of her father to put Michael in a position of authority over her. Just that morning she had dropped the copy of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman and it had fallen open at a page which had stated that:
Daughters should be always submissive.
Her father might have the right to demand obedience, but Michael certainly did not! She was now even more determined not to submit to the curate’s authority. The fact that he was exceedingly handsome when angry did not change her view; rather, it made her even more annoyed for having noticed the fact. She was surprised to discover, too, that his principled response excited her admiration and this annoyed her as well. Strangely enough, the piece of his behaviour that rankled most with her was the way in which he had hung upon Miss Belton’s lips at the dinner table the previous Sunday.
Her conscience might give a slight twinge at having spoken to him so insolently, but she firmly repressed it. After all, he deserved to be irritated after how he had behaved. It only remained to discover how best to do this.
Her opportunity came two days later when Lieutenant Fellowes arrived on horseback. ‘I thought you might like to go for a canter – show me the countryside, and so on,’ he said, his eyes sparkling. ‘What do you say?’
‘I say give me a quarter of an hour to change into my riding habit,’ she answered. Perfect, she said to herself as she ascended the stairs. She would go for a lovely, refreshing gallop with the handsome soldier and she would not take a groom. What’s more, she would make sure that Michael found out! She did feel a twinge of guilt as she walked past the door to her mother’s chamber, but she did not allow it to disturb her. Mama would be abed for some time longer. They might even have returned from their ride by the time she had come downstairs.
As Evangeline descended the steps of Granby Hall, she saw that Snowball had already been brought round. Lieutenant Fellowes dismounted from his own horse and stood ready to throw her into the saddle. Really, he was quite handsome in an ordinary sort of way, she decided, looking at him surreptitiously as she took hold of the reins. Perhaps she might even allow him to kiss her. That would serve Michael right.
Chapter Eight
Michael had not intended to return to Granby Park so soon. It happened, however, that he heard in the village that Mrs Granby’s housekeeper had suffered a bereavement, so he decided that he had better call upon her. This would also give him an excuse for seeing Mrs and Miss Granby at the same time, without looking as though he was spying upon their concerns.
Naturally, he called upon Mrs Granby first, and found her in the drawing room looking anxious. Her brow cleared at the sight of him. ‘Oh, Mr Buckleigh, I am so pleased to see you,’ she said. ‘I am a little concerned about Evangeline.’
‘Not already?’ he exclaimed involuntarily. Then, conscious that he had leaped to an unwarrantable conclusion, he added hastily, ‘I beg your pardon. Is she unwell?’
‘No, she is well, at least as far as I know.’ she said quickly. ‘It is just that she has gone riding with Lieutenant Fellowes and she has not taken a groom.’
Michael could feel the anger rising up inside him. Her father had only been gone a matter of days and already she was worrying her mother by her wilful behaviour. Not only that, but she had ridden off with the very man from whom Mr Granby had wanted her protected. Involuntarily, he clenched his fists. Then, conscious of his hostess’s anxious expression, he forced his expression to relax into a smile.
‘Come, ma’am, she will not come to any harm, I’m sure. She is an excellent horsewoman, is she not?’
‘Why yes, but—’
‘And Lieutenant Fellowes is a cavalry officer; so no problems there. What’s more, she is of good family and well connected. He will not risk harming her, even if he has any such intention, which I very much doubt. It’s just a case of high spirits, you may be sure. Remember that they are in the country, not in Hyde Park.’ He smiled as reassuringly as he was able, and was rewarded when Mrs Granby smiled back at him.
‘Of course you are right, Mr Buckleigh,’ she said in relieved tones. ‘I am making something out of nothing. You must blame my nerves, which have never been of the best. Would you care for a cup of coffee? And please stay for nuncheon.’
Michael had plenty to do, but he had no intention of leaving Mrs Granby until Evangeline had returned. He accepted her invitation, but pleaded the need to speak to the housekeeper about her recent loss.
‘Oh yes, poor Mrs Gibbons. I know that her aunt’s death was expected, but, even so, it was distressing to her.’ Mrs Granby herself conducted Michael to the housekeeper’s room, where she left him to offer what comfort he could.
When he returned to the drawing room nearly an hour later, he hoped he would find that Evangeline had returned. His hopes were to be disappointed and Mrs Granby was once more looking anxious. He sat down with her and proceeded to ask her about her family in Sheffield, gently drawing her out, so that she was soon talking freely, her worries forgotten.
The two riders had not yet returned when nuncheon was served and, for a few moments, Michael saw the anxious look return to Mrs Granby’s face. In the nick of time, he had the happy notion of asking her about a portrait which hung over the fireplace. He seemed to detect a likeness between the lady in the portrait and Mrs Granby herself. Were they related, perhaps? This turned out to be a most fortunate choice of subject, for the portrait was of a distant relative of Mr Granby. There was a link between his family and that of his wife somewhere in the past, and they had been trying to discover where and when that link had occurred.
They had only just finished eating when noises in the hall alerted them to the fact that Evangeline had returned. Immediately, Mrs Granby’s expression lightened. ‘You said that everything would be all right,’ she said to Michael. ‘I wonder whether they would like anything to eat.’ She turned to the footman. ‘Christopher, will you be so good as to find out whether Miss Evangeline and Lieutenant Fellowes wish to join us?’
The footman bowed and withdrew.
‘I am glad that your fears have proved to be groundless,’ smiled Michael, wondering how he could contrive to speak to Evangeline on her own without distressing her mother. If he allowed this blatant piece of bad behaviour to go by unremarked, he might as well abandon any pretence at doing as Mr Granby had asked him.
The footman soon returned. ‘Miss Evangeline has gone straight upstairs to change out of her habit, ma’am,’ he said. ‘The young gentleman who brought her home sends his regrets that he cannot stay.’
‘Has he left?’ Michael asked abruptly.
‘He is doing so, sir.’
Michael turned to Mrs Granby. ‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘I must speak to the lieutenant.’ He left the room as quickly as he decently could and was fortunate to find that Fellowes, having removed some burrs from his horse’s mane, was only just climbing into the saddle. ‘One moment, Lieutenant,’ Michael called out from the top step.
‘Yes?’ answered the officer, raising his brows at Michael as if the curate were a stable boy who had exercised too much temerity in addressing him unbidden.
‘You surely do not intend to ride off without speaking to your hostess,’ said Michael, as he descended the steps.
‘I am expected elsewhere,’ Fellowes answered haughtily. ‘I sent my regrets, as courtesy requires.’
‘Unhappily, you were also expected here earlier and Mrs Granby has been anxious,’ the curate told him. ‘An apology from your own lips would be appreciated, I’m sure.’
The lieutenant knew this. Under any other circumstances he would have been out of the saddle, ready to soothe Mrs Granby with glib words, but Michael’s criticisms had nettled him. Not for anything would he enter the house now, as if he were meekly obeying the clergyman’s instructions.
‘You may tender them for me,’ he said insolently. ‘I’m sure that you are better at grovelli
ng than I am.’
Quick as a flash, Michael caught hold of the horse’s bridle. He said nothing: his warning look was sufficient.
‘Out of my way,’ the lieutenant bit out, before setting his horse on its hind legs then galloping away.
Michael went back inside to where Mrs Granby was waiting. ‘You will stay and see Evangeline before you go?’ she said to him. Her tone seemed to him to be pleading.
‘If you wish it,’ he answered calmly. The last thing that he wanted was another battle with Evangeline, but something needed to be said and he doubted whether Mrs Granby would say it.
A short time later, Evangeline came downstairs. She was dressed becomingly in a gown of her favourite shade of blue. ‘Did you have a pleasant ride, dearest?’ Mrs Granby asked her tentatively.
‘Oh, delightful,’ Evangeline answered. ‘We rode towards Matlock and saw some very fine scenery.’
‘Such a pity Lieutenant Fellowes could not stay for some refreshments, ’ said her mother.
‘He had another engagement,’ Evangeline replied. ‘Anyway, we had already refreshed ourselves.’ She looked at Michael with narrowed gaze. ‘Good of Mr Buckleigh to bear you company,’ she added.
‘He has been so kind,’ beamed Mrs Granby. ‘He has been with me all morning.’
‘How fortunate he is not to have had anything else more pressing to do,’ Evangeline replied.
‘Evangeline, dearest,’ murmured Mrs Granby.
‘I have also been visiting Mrs Gibbons, who has lost her aunt,’ said Michael in an even tone. Evangeline had the grace to blush. An awkward silence fell.
Eventually Mrs Granby said, ‘If you will excuse me, I think I will go and lie down.’ She turned to Michael, holding out her hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Buckleigh. You have been so kind.’
‘Not at all, ma’am,’ Michael replied warmly. ‘I was glad to be of service.’
‘I’m sure you were,’ said Evangeline, after her mother had gone upstairs. ‘I wonder whether my father ought to know about the way that you are lavishing your attention upon my mother.’
Michael bit back the angry words that he knew would start a confrontation immediately. ‘She needed some attention this morning,’ he replied. ‘She was very anxious, and I fear that that must be laid at your door.’
Evangeline coloured. ‘You are impertinent.’
‘Impertinent – or rather uncomfortably truthful?’ he asked her. ‘Did it not occur to you how worried your mother would be when you rode off unchaperoned to God knows where with a man you hardly know? Or perhaps your chief concern in this matter was how best to annoy me.’
‘Upon my soul, you take too much upon yourself,’ replied Evangeline, uncomfortably aware that that had indeed been her chief motive. ‘What makes you suppose that I should have the slightest interest in what you think? You, a threadbare curate!’ She ran her eyes contemptuously up and down his figure.
‘I do not suppose it,’ he answered. ‘The reason why you wanted to annoy me was because you cannot bear to be checked in any way. You have been spoiled all your life. Your father indulges you, your mother is afraid of you, and the consequence of that is that you think that you can do anything you like.’
Evangeline took a deep breath. ‘Mr Buckleigh, you presume too much. Since when did my father give you permission to admonish me?’
‘Let me see. He asked me to be your unofficial guardian, to keep an eye upon you, guard you, watch over you. He also reminded me of the authority of my position. I think he made his wishes perfectly clear.’ Recalling one of Mr Granby’s requests in particular, Michael went on, ‘You mentioned that you had had some refreshment. May I ask where?’
‘We stopped at an inn.’
‘You took refreshment with him in a public inn?’
Evangeline shrugged carelessly. ‘You know how it is.’
He crossed the room and caught hold of her by the shoulders. ‘Tell me you have not permitted him to take any liberties,’ he said fiercely.
She tossed her head. ‘If I had, you should be the last person to criticize, ’ she said. In fact, they had taken their refreshment outside the inn, seated on a bench in the open. As for permitting liberties, that had been her intention, but when it had come to the point, she had not wanted to do so. Nevertheless, she would certainly not let the curate know that.
‘I must insist that you tell me. Did you allow him to kiss you?’
She did not answer, but simply stared at him defiantly. For a moment the outcome hung in the balance. He wanted to kiss her more than he could remember wanting anything in his life before, but the temporary responsibility conferred upon him made such an action utterly inappropriate. He released her almost violently and turned away.
Evangeline had been holding her breath, half in anticipation. She was surprised at how disappointed she felt. To make up for that disappointment, she said the most hurtful thing that she could think of. ‘You are forgetting the last conversation that we had in this room. Remember that I could destroy your reputation with one letter to the bishop.’
‘I am aware of that, but I will not be blackmailed and I will not be brow-beaten. You may threaten all you like, Miss Granby, but you will not prevent me from criticizing your conduct when it is at fault.’ He took a couple of steps closer to her, and lowered his voice. ‘What is more, if I hear of any more childish behaviour from you, I shall do what your father should have done years ago.’
‘And what is that?’ she asked him suspiciously.
‘Why, I shall simply put you across my knee and give you a good hiding. Good day to you. Make sure you apologize to your mother.’
Evangeline was so angry after he had gone that for a time she was quite unable to speak. The smashing of a small figurine which stood on the mantelpiece gave some relief to her feelings, but did not satisfy the urgent need that she felt to have her revenge upon Michael Buckleigh. How dared he criticize her conduct? She had only gone out riding for heaven’s sake. It was enough to make her wish that she had allowed Fellowes to kiss her.
While her anger was still hot, she went upstairs to her room, sat down at her writing desk and, after mending her pen, she took a fresh sheet of paper and wrote a letter to the bishop, giving a colourful version of the curate’s scandalous behaviour in Sheffield and describing his impertinence since then. This exercise soothed her feelings enormously and, after the letter was finished, she sat at her table in the window, her chin cradled on her hands as she thought about the excursion that she had just enjoyed with Lieutenant Fellowes.
The ride itself had been delightful. She was an experienced horsewoman, who enjoyed the challenge of tackling different kinds of terrain. Lieutenant Fellowes had been an ideal companion, keeping the kind of pace that she enjoyed and not noticeably making any allowances because she was a woman.
When they paused to admire the scenery, or got down to give the horses a rest, however, she found him less than congenial. If he was not paying her compliments that were a little too broad for her taste, he was boasting about his exploits as a serving soldier, or in the hunting field. Frankly, she had found his conversation rather dull.
Turning back to her letter, she folded it and wrote the bishop’s name and address on the outside. The very writing of it had had the effect of cooling the heat of her temper, however, and she now found herself less convinced that she should take such a step which would almost certainly mean the end of Mr Buckleigh’s career. He did seem to take his work very seriously, unlike a friend’s brother, a vicar who appeared to look upon his parish as a means of gaining money to spend in London whilst his long-suffering curate did all the work. Evangeline could not imagine Michael behaving in such a way. She thought of how he had looked standing in the church porch, his vestments stirring about him in the breeze.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, her chin propped on her hands, a slightly dreamy expression on her face. Really, she must pull herself together at once! She was starting
to feel sympathetic towards the tiresome clergyman and that would never do!
To turn her mind to other matters, she picked up Miss Wollstonecraft’s book which lay open next to where she had been working. She had never done any more than flip through the pages, but now she picked it up, and chanced upon a most appropriate paragraph.
A man of rank or fortune, sure of rising by interest, has nothing to do but to pursue some extravagant freak; whilst the needy gentleman, who is to rise, as the phrase turns, by his merit, becomes a servile parasite or vile pander.
That was much better. ‘A servile parasite,’ she said, in tones of deep satisfaction. ‘I must remember that next time he chooses to throw his weight about.’ Feeling calmer, she left her room and walked along the passage to her mother’s bedchamber. She found her mother lying down on the bed but not asleep.
When Mrs Granby saw her daughter, she sat up. ‘You have not quarrelled with Mr Buckleigh, have you, dearest?’ she asked anxiously.
‘What if I had?’ Evangeline asked defensively.
‘Oh, nothing,’ was the quick reply.
Made sensitive by Michael’s words, Evangeline suddenly felt almost as if she was observing her mother for the first time. She saw the older lady’s eyes slide away from hers and was horrified to find herself wondering whether her mother really was a little afraid of her. She sat down on the bed. ‘Don’t worry, we were just talking,’ she said, taking the other woman’s hand.
‘I should hate you to quarrel with him,’ said Mrs Granby earnestly. ‘He was so kind to me today; and to Mrs Gibbons as well. I cannot imagine Mr Lusty giving up so much of his time just to allay someone’s fears.’
