by Barker, Ann
‘You shouldn’t have been afraid, Mama,’ said Evangeline. ‘I’m a very good rider, you know.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Mrs Granby replied simply. ‘But you are all I have, dearest.’
‘I’m sorry, Mama,’ Evangeline replied remorsefully. ‘I won’t make you worry like that again.’
After Evangeline had soothed her mother’s anxieties, she returned to her own room. Miss Wollstonecraft’s book was still open at the passage that she had been looking at earlier. She recalled the phrase ‘servile parasite’. Why had Michael Buckleigh agreed to ‘keep an eye’ on her? He could have said no. Probably he was hoping to reap the reward of her father’s gratitude by battening on to her family for evermore! Her annoyance with the clergyman came back afresh. It had at least been partly his fault that her mother had been upset. He had probably been encouraging her fears, not comforting her as he had said. Wretched man! He need not think that he could walk away without her taking revenge. She would just have to think of a way of annoying Michael that did not involve upsetting her mother.
As Michael walked down the drive, he berated himself for handling the whole matter so badly. How could he have threatened to put Evangeline over his knee? What had he been thinking of? No one else seemed to be able to make him lose his temper as did she. He knew why, of course: it was all due to that powerful attraction that she had for him.
That was not the only part of the affair that he had handled clumsily. He should not have confronted Lieutenant Fellowes in the way that he had. After all, he could hardly have taken Evangeline on the outing had she not accepted his invitation. Nevertheless, in Mr Granby’s absence it was his, Michael’s, duty to point out that to expose a young lady to possible public censure was not the action of an officer and a gentleman. Even so, he wondered whether he had made too much of it, not because of his responsibility to Mr Granby, but because he was jealous. What would he not have given to be able to gallop across the countryside with Evangeline! He sighed. With any luck, war might be declared and the lieutenant’s regiment might be summoned overseas.
Anxious for an encounter that did not involve confrontation, he wandered down to the school where Miss Leicester, who did not have any pupils at that time, welcomed him with a cup of tea and home-made scones. This kindness was very welcome and he sat with her for a comfortable hour, drank two cups of tea and consumed at least three scones. When at last he left, he was unaware of how much this visit had caused her hopes to lift.
The next time he saw Lieutenant Fellowes was at church two days later, and the circumstances were particularly annoying. When Michael had entered the church from the vestry, he had supposed initially that Miss Granby was not at worship, for her family pew was empty. Then, as the congregation rose to sing the opening hymn, she came in, not with her mother, but with Sir Lyle and Lady Belton, Miss Belton and Lieutenant Fellowes. The whole party proceeded to enter the Granby family pew, with Evangeline sitting next to Lieutenant Fellowes. Throughout the service, it seemed to Michael that the two of them did nothing but make eyes at one another. So distracted was he by this spectacle that he even lost his place in his sermon and was obliged to leave rather a long pause while he found it again. This incident seemed to provide the two young people with cause for further amusement. By the time Michael pronounced the final blessing, he was convinced that this must be the worst service that he had ever conducted. He was very thankful that Mr Lusty had not appeared by chance to discover how he was getting on.
Miss Granby and the lieutenant came out of church a little later than the rest of the party, and Michael had a chance to speak to them. ‘Is Mrs Granby unwell today?’ he asked.
‘She has a slight headache,’ Evangeline answered. ‘She is prone to them when there is an east wind. I dare say she’ll be glad to see you if you are looking for an excuse.’ The lieutenant hid a smile.
‘I do not need an excuse to visit the sick,’ Michael answered, his tone more pompous than he liked. ‘I see that you are still staying with your relatives, Lieutenant Fellowes,’ he went on, stating the obvious. Splendid, Buckleigh, he added in his own mind, you’re not just a pompous windbag, you’re a slow top as well.
‘Indeed,’ the young officer answered. ‘I have an excellent incentive for remaining, as you see.’ He bowed in Evangeline’s direction.
‘I was very thankful for his presence in the area,’ she said, darting a flirtatious glance at the lieutenant. ‘A simple message that I had no escort brought him to my side in the most gallant way possible.’
‘How convenient,’ Michael drawled.
Evangeline darted a startled look in his direction. The intonation of his voice had been remarkably like that of Lord Ashbourne. Before she could give that idea any further consideration, her attention was claimed by Miss Barclay and Miss French. Michael took advantage of this by saying to the other man, ‘Have you had the opportunity to express your regrets to Mrs Granby?’
Fellowes drew himself up straight. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I am sure that she will be pleased to receive your apologies,’ Michael replied.
The lieutenant glared at the man facing him. For a few moments, he forgot where he was and nearly thrust his fist into the face in front of him. Then a lady behind him spoke and he realized what a shocking thing it would be to punch the curate in the church porch. He allowed a false smile to cross his features. ‘It was only a country ride,’ he said in a patronizing tone. ‘I suppose that Mrs Granby is a rather delicate lady and easily made nervous.’ He stared at Michael as if to imply that he was made of the same kind of stuff.
‘Knowing that, it would have been wise to avoid upsetting her,’ Michael responded, determined not to lose his temper. ‘I would ask you to give that matter a little more thought in the future.’
Fellowes glared at him, before turning on his heel and strolling up to Evangeline who was still standing with Miss Barclay and Miss French. Sir Lyle approached Michael and asked whether he would like to dine with them. ‘Miss Granby is to join us,’ the baronet explained. ‘We had made arrangements to collect both her and her mother this morning, but Mrs Granby is not well. It would be a dull dinner for her at home I fear, with her mother abed and her father away.’
Michael glanced across at Evangeline. So she had lied to him. Obviously flirting with Fellowes meant more to her than being honest with him. Knowing this, he was glad that he had already accepted another invitation to Crossley Farm. Despite his promises to her father, the last thing that he wanted to do was to watch Evangeline with Fellowes.
Evangeline had not been unaware of the conversation going on between the curate and the soldier, and she glanced at the two of them standing in the doorway, Fellowes in his dashing cavalryman’s uniform which flattered his figure so enticingly, and Michael in his vestments. What would Michael look like in uniform, she wondered. She tried to picture him thus attired, but while the picture that she managed to conjure up was seductive enough, she found to her surprise that she actually preferred him in his vestments. Perhaps it was because he looked so at ease in them. Then, as the soldier appeared to take umbrage at something that the clergyman had said, she remembered how annoyed she still was with Michael. For a brief moment or two, her eyes met his. She thought that he looked disapproving and she lifted her chin defiantly. It would be satisfying to flirt with Lieutenant Fellowes under his nose at dinner, she decided. It was only when Sir Lyle’s party began to walk to the carriage that she realized Michael was not coming. Glancing round, she saw him exchanging a laughing remark with Miss Leicester, then nodding at Mr Crossley. Miss Leicester, seeing the direction of her gaze, lifted her chin and smiled in a rather proprietary way. When Lieutenant Fellowes next addressed a playful remark to Evangeline, she had to ask him to repeat himself.
Chapter Nine
Mr and Mrs Crossley were as hospitable as always, and the meal that was served was excellent, but half of Michael’s mind was at the Cedars. What was he to do about Evangeline? At times, he was con
vinced that her sole purpose for flirting with Lieutenant Fellowes was to annoy him. On other occasions, he castigated himself for being so conceited as to imagine any such thing. Why should Miss Granby not be drawn to Lieutenant Fellowes? He was just the kind of dashing young man whom she must have been meeting constantly in London. He had a good seat on a horse, and was able to accompany her when riding, a pursuit which she obviously enjoyed. He, Michael, was also an excellent rider, but unfortunately he had nothing to ride. The property he lived in was his on loan and by an act of charity. He did not even have his own parish. Why would a lovely, well-dowered young woman ever look at such as he?
Such thoughts as these were running through his head during the meal at Crossley farm, so much so that on one occasion, Mrs Crossley had to address the same remark to him three times. He really must pull himself together, he decided. He must face facts. He was infatuated with Miss Granby. He had conquered such feelings before and he could do so again. Indulgent Mr Granby might be, but he would never agree to his only daughter marrying a penniless curate. Had he not spoken just before he left about his fears that Evangeline would fall prey to a fortune hunter? He would never have done such a thing had he even considered that same curate as a son-in-law. In the meantime, he would be better employed seeing more of Miss Leicester, or of Miss Belton, whose parents clearly favoured him.
Unfortunately, however, he could not dismiss from his thoughts the fact that Evangeline was his responsibility, entrusted to his care by her father in his absence. How could he best discharge this responsibility? After Mr Crossley’s gig had taken them back to Illingham, Michael got down at the same time as Miss Leicester and told her that he needed her advice.
Miss Leicester was too wise to show how delighted she was at this eventuality. His seeking her out in this way was evidence that he felt the need of the counsel of a mature woman. She invited him into the schoolmistress’s house and asked him to be seated whilst he told her in what way she might be of service. So sympathetic was her expression, and so ready was she to listen, that he soon found himself telling her the whole story of his unwilling temporary guardianship of Miss Granby, concluding with an account of the unchaperoned riding expedition.
‘No doubt you will tell me that I am being over-scrupulous,’ he said, a little self-consciously at the conclusion of his tale. ‘Having shared the matter with you, I am more than half wondering whether I am making a mountain out of a molehill.’
‘I cannot agree with you,’ she replied. ‘A young woman cannot be too careful of her reputation. Such a prank could easily make her appear fast.’
Oddly enough, Miss Leicester’s support of his original view had the effect of making Michael want to defend Evangeline. ‘Surely not in the country,’ he replied. ‘In London now, it would be a very different matter.’
‘This problem would not have occurred in London,’ Miss Leicester pointed out. ‘She would hardly have been left alone in the house with no company but an ailing mother. Besides, I suspect that even Miss Granby would obey the rules when in Town. Here, near her home in this comparatively isolated place, she thinks that she can go her length.’
‘It is unfortunate that her mother’s health is so uncertain,’ said Michael. He was beginning to feel uneasy and was more than half wishing that he had never begun this conversation. It was starting to feel uncomfortably like gossip.
Miss Leicester sighed. ‘That is to be laid at Miss Granby’s door, at least in part,’ she said. ‘She is an only child and shockingly spoiled. She is undoubtedly a great beauty, but her very looks are marred by all the airs that she puts on. She knows that she only has to lift a little finger and Mama and Papa will leap to fulfil her desires.’
Michael looked at her, startled at the vigour of her sentiments. ‘Is that not a little harsh?’ he asked her, wrinkling his brow.
Miss Leicester blushed, conscious that she had gone too far. ‘Perhaps,’ she agreed. ‘You must blame the fact that my own background was very different. I always knew that I would have to make my way in the world – as did you, of course.’
He nodded. ‘That is so,’ he agreed. ‘Anyway, I have spoken to Lieutenant Fellowes and I do not intend to take the matter any further. I am sure that I have allowed the weight of responsibility to bear too heavily upon me. You must blame the fact that I am expecting my sister to arrive any day now. The thought of having to look to the needs of two young ladies is rather daunting.’ He stood up to leave. ‘Thank you for allowing me to share this with you,’ he went on, as he picked up his hat. ‘I feel much easier in my mind now.’
‘Yes of course,’ Miss Leicester answered, smiling. ‘Please let me know if there is anything that I can do to help; and do bring Miss Buckleigh to visit me when she arrives.’
‘Thank you. I shall be pleased to do so.’
As he took hold of the door handle, she surprised and slightly alarmed him by laying her hand on his. ‘I cannot wait to meet her,’ she said.
Michael thought no more about his conversation with Miss Leicester for, just two days later, he met his sister off the stage in Ashbourne. That he was doing so in style was thanks indirectly to Lord Ilam. Michael had made enquiries at the Olde Oak about hiring a conveyance and this information had found its way back to Illingham Hall. That same day, the head groom had come to the cottage with the news that his lordship’s gig would be available for his use, either for him to drive himself, or for one of his lordship’s grooms to do so if he did not feel competent. Should the weather be poor, then a closed carriage would be made available.
Michael was staggered by Lord Ilam’s generosity. He had come across noblemen who were sympathetic to his calling and ready to throw the occasional piece of largesse in his direction. This would usually come in the form of dinner, or a joint of meat, or perhaps a basket of fruit. Never before had he encountered this kind of consistent open-handedness. He could hardly wait for an opportunity to thank the viscount. He decided that he would obtain the direction of Lady Ilam’s parents so that he could write immediately. He did not want to be backward in attention towards one who had showered him with such disinterested benevolence.
As the time approached for the stage to arrive, he found himself becoming very excited and, when his sister got down, it was all that he could do not to elbow all the other passengers aside so that he might pick her up and swing her around.
Theodora was small and dainty, with ash-blonde hair of exactly the same shade as Michael’s, a colour that they had inherited from their mother. Theodora’s brows, though well marked, did not have either the startling colour or the pronounced arch of Michael’s, and her eyes, rather than grey, were something between hazel and green. Just now, the delight on her face reflected that on her brother’s.
‘Thea, my dear, you look blooming,’ Michael declared. ‘I cannot tell you how much I have looked forward to your coming.’
‘No more than I have looked forward to being here,’ she replied, pointing out her luggage to the groom, who had been sent with the gig. As she put her hand on Michael’s arm and walked to the carriage, it could be seen that she limped quite badly, a disability that she had carried from birth. ‘You have a servant to accompany us,’ she remarked. ‘That’s very grand.’
‘It is all thanks to Lord Ilam, whom I have yet to meet,’ Michael replied. ‘Did you have a comfortable journey?’
Theodora smiled bravely. She very seldom complained, but because she was not tall, the seats of most travelling conveyances were a little too high for her and tended to aggravate her condition. ‘I am glad that it is nearly over,’ she said. ‘Is it far to Illingham?’
‘Only a few miles,’ Michael said reassuringly.
Theodora found the gig more comfortable than the chaise, for she was not squashed up amongst strangers. All through the journey, she was looking around eagerly, asking whether such a building was known to her brother, and if he knew who lived there.
It did indeed take only a very short time to travel to Michael’s c
ottage. When Theodora saw it, she exclaimed with delight and could barely wait for Michael to help her down before hurrying inside. The groom carried Theodora’s luggage upstairs to her room, but when Michael took out some coins in thanks for his services, the man shook his head. ‘It’s his lordship as pays me, sir. He won’t see me short.’
‘Remarkable,’ murmured Michael, as the groom left.
‘Lord Ilam is indeed generous,’ said Theodora, from the top of the stairs.
‘I’m beginning to wonder whether he’s even human,’ said Michael. ‘His Christian name is Gabriel. Perhaps he is an angel, as well as being named after one.’
‘Like you,’ put in Theodora.
‘Yes; like me,’ Michael agreed, struck by the notion as he had not been before, even when the verger had pointed it out to him. ‘Do you like your room?’ he went on, climbing the stairs two at a time.
After carrying Miss Buckleigh’s luggage upstairs, Lord Ilam’s groom returned to Illingham Hall and, when he had stabled the horses, he went to the kitchen for some refreshment. He was immediately quizzed by the staff who wanted to know what the curate’s sister was like. No, she wasn’t much like her brother, except in the colour of her hair. She was a dainty little thing; not much to her, really. A pity that she walked with a bit of a limp.
One of the kitchen maids was sent to the Olde Oak later with a message, and she conveyed the news that Miss Buckleigh was very slight, with pale hair and a limp. Some of the customers heard the news, among them Old Jed, who told his sister that Miss Buckleigh was thin and pale with very light hair and a nasty limp. By the time Miss Leicester had heard the news of the arrival, which was on the following day, Miss Buckleigh had not an ounce of flesh on her bones. Her face was chalk white, as was her hair – what bit there was of it – and her limp was so severe that she could barely walk.
