“I had never considered that women must necessarily feel somewhat hedged about by those who would take charge of them,” said Eynsford. “You are being unfair, Lady Morgan. You are forcing me to think, and on such a beautiful day, too.”
Letitia attempted to suppress a giggle and failed. “How reprehensible of me,” she said. “I am sorry to have blighted your day.”
“Your apology is accepted,” Phillip answered solemnly. “Now you must pay for your transgression by spending the rest of the afternoon talking nonsense with me.”
“I am afraid I do not have much experience at that, Mr. Markham,” said Letitia.
“Then I will have to teach you. The point of the exercise is to make as little sense as possible, and to avoid any topic which might be regarded as serious.”
“Oh, then it is exactly like spending an evening at Almack’s,” said Letitia with a solemn air.
Eynsford was greatly amused by this statement, but Mr. Markham had to respond differently. “That I would not know, but if it is true, then you should be a master of the task.”
“A pretty picture you have of me, sir!” declared Letitia. “I will have you know that in my Season in London I was known as a young woman with an unusually serious turn of mind.”
“No, were you?” asked Eynsford, laughter in his eyes as he recalled the merry creature he had danced with. “How interesting. And I had thought you to be one of those giddy females, entrancing the young men and dancing all night.”
Letitia tried not to smile. “Not I,” she vowed. “I wore the plainest of gowns and danced only with young men of sober character.”
“You are deceiving me, Lady Morgan,” said Phillip. “I think it far more likely that you were considered the loveliest young woman in London. I venture that you dressed delightfully, danced divinely, and had many a young man eager to walk with you in the Park. I would not hesitate to state that I believe you were a Toast!”
“How very skilled you are at talking nonsense,” said Letitia primly. “I could never hope to rival you, sir. You would fit in marvelously well with Society gentlemen.”
“Now I fear you are insulting me,” Phillip answered. “I know what you think of them.”
Letitia finally broke out in laughter. “I see there is not getting around you, Mr. Markham. Very well then, have it your way. I was indeed a Toast, much admired by all, including the Regent. I never came home before three o’clock in the morning and never rose before noon. Dozens of young men were at my feet, all swearing their undying devotion. I had my pick of all the most eligible men in the kingdom.”
“That I can believe most readily,” said the marquess.
“And then what must I do but pick Alfred, Lord Morgan to be my husband,” she concluded.
Lord Eynsford looked at her closely, but she did not appear to be unduly upset by this conclusion. She still smiled, and her eyes were untroubled.
“We are all permitted to make mistakes,” he observed.
“And I made a very serious one,” said Letitia. “But now it is past, and I have my children, whom I can never regret.”
“I am glad to see you so reconciled with your past,” said the marquess. “Am I right in believing that you have found some happiness of late?”
“On a day such as today, how can one be unhappy?” asked Letitia. “Today I can even feel sorry for poor Alfred, for he never enjoyed the feeling of contentment I have. He was too concerned with his hunting and his gambling to enjoy a day in the sun with his children, in the company of an understanding friend.” She stopped and looked slightly shamefaced. “I must sound dreadfully sentimental,” she went on. “Perhaps I have read too many novels of late.”
The marquess laughed. It gave him great pleasure to see Letitia so comfortable with her surroundings, herself, and, most of all, his companionship. “Not at all,” he replied. “Your feelings do you honor, but I admit it is more than I can do to forgive your husband. You deserve far better.”
Letitia looked thoughtful. “He meant well, at least at first, I believe,” she said. “It is just that he was weak and could not control his impulses, and after a time, he had no desire to do so. I do not know that I can forgive him, but I can feel compassion for him.”
Lord Eynsford felt a rush of tenderness as he watched Letitia. Her clear blue eyes were gazing off into the distance, her hands folded in her lap, a small smile on her delicate lips. The breeze just stirred the wisps of pale gold hair that peeked out from her bonnet, and she presented a picture of almost celestial beauty and fragility. He was not sure exactly how it had occurred, but he realized he had possessed himself of one of her hands and now he pressed it gently.
“Your spirit does you much credit, Lady Morgan,” he said. “I wish I could be of greater service to you.”
She turned towards him, a soft look in her eyes. “But Mr. Markham, you are a tremendous help to me. I do not know what I would have done without your good advice and kind friendship these past weeks. One of the reasons I am now so content is that I know I can share my thoughts with you.”
“I am touched that my small attempts to be helpful are appreciated, Lady Morgan,” said the marquess. “It pains me to see you having to fend for yourself and, although I have no right to feel this way, I wish I could protect you from the world.”
Somehow Lady Morgan’s other hand had found its way into his grip as well. She glanced down at their hands and then looked up into his bright blue eyes and was surprised by the emotion she saw there.
“You are too kind, Mr. Markham,” she said. “I must make my own way, but knowing you wish to help eases my heart.”
The two sat for a moment, hands and eyes locked. Phillip leaned forward slightly, and Letitia did not draw away. There was a breathless pause.
“Mama...Mama, make Jamie give me the ball,” intruded a small voice. Lord Eynsford dropped Letitia's hands as though he had been stung, and the pair turned confused eyes on Miss Emily Morgan. She tugged again at her mother's skirt.
“Mama, he's being mean,” she said.
Lord Eynsford was the first to recover his composure. “Mean, is he? Well, we will see about that. Come along, Emily.” He offered his hand to the child and led her to where her brother sat, the desired ball clutched in his hands. Letitia watched, rather dazed, as he resolved the quarrel in a few short minutes, with the end result that the children played together in harmony. She blinked her eyes. For a moment it had seemed to her as though there were no one in the world except herself and Mr. Markham. The look in his eyes and yes, the feeling she had had, were quite extraordinary. But that was silly. She felt nothing but companionship for Mr. Markham, and he surely felt nothing but the same for her. The difference in their lives and conditions were so vast as to preclude anything else.
By the time her friend returned to her side Letty had recovered herself. It was silly, she thought, to read anything into their conversation. Mr. Markham had expressed a friendly concern for her, that was all. He had pressed her hand simply to show her that he cared for her welfare, much as Isobel and Francis did. And she had responded civilly and with the gratitude a friend deserved. All was just as it should be.
The marquess was also confused as to what had occurred. He gave only half his mind to the children's quarrel, and occupied the other half of it with Lady Morgan. He realized that he had been temporarily swept away on a wave of sentiment and had perhaps expressed himself too strongly. Lady Morgan had looked quite lovely with the sun on her hair and that dreamy look in her eyes. But, of course, he felt nothing for her but the purest friendship. Indeed, he felt towards her much as he felt towards his sister. He had a brotherly concern for Lady Morgan and her children. He was concerned that she be comfortable and happy. There was nothing more than that to it, he assured himself as he approached her.
She greeted him with an unclouded smile, as their earlier conversation, she had decided, had been pleasant but of no particular significance. Lord Eynsford was relieved to see her looking so un
troubled, and immediately concluded that his soft-hearted reaction to Lady Morgan's speech must have been received exactly as it ought. Clearly, he thought, she understood that his feelings were of the friendliest, but no more than that.
“Your children are delightful,” he said.
“How can you say so?” she asked with a rueful smile. “You just now averted a quarrel.”
“But how quickly I did so!” he answered. “My nieces and nephews would have been much more difficult to reconcile.”
“Now you are speaking nonsense again,” declared Letitia.
The conversation wound its way through still waters, and soon both Lord Eynsford and Lady Morgan were easy in their minds that their earlier feelings had been nothing out of the ordinary at all. The marquess departed with a promise to return soon, Lady Morgan responded with a smile and a thank-you, and both returned home tolerably pleased with themselves. If Letitia's dreams that night were haunted by a pair of lapis-blue eyes she did not recall that in the morning, and if Lord Eynsford could find no lady at the ball he attended that evening that he deemed worthy of his attentions, he did not lay that at Lady Morgan's feet.
Chapter 16
Lady Morgan rested in her sitting room, her feet up on a stool, her embroidery in her lap, a novel in her hand. The children were playing in the nursery after their daily stroll in the park. They had encountered Mr. Markham again that day, and once again he had been very pleasant. He had played with the children they and discussed some ideas for Jamie’s schooling. His ideas had been sensible and Letty had been grateful for his advice. She smiled; his sureness comforted her.
The housemaid knocked on the door and entered the room. “Gentleman to see you, ma’am,” she said, bobbing a curtsey.
“Whoever is it, Nellie?” asked Letitia. She was not expecting Lord Exencour and could think of no other gentleman who might be calling.
“The Bishop of Mainwaring, ma’am,” replied the maid.
Letitia rose hastily, about to tell Nellie to deny him, but she was too late. The doorframe was filled with a presence, which bore down upon her solicitously.
“My dear Lady Morgan,” said the presence. “I hope you do not mind me calling upon you. Bainstall assured me that you would greet me with pleasure, and so I present myself. Your cousin is a very dear friend of mine. Such an intelligent and sober gentleman.”
“Indeed,” said Letitia. “My cousin has said the same of you.”
The bishop beamed at her. He was both tall and rotund, which, along with a loud voice, allowed him to easily dominate a room, though he believed it was his force of personality, not his mere size, which permitted this. A Roman nose was the focal point of his face, which also featured watery blue eyes and bushy eyebrows. His graying brown hair was carefully brushed into a fashionable style and his clothes indicated that, while he was a churchman, he still had an eye for style, however little it became his stout figure. He appeared to be about forty-five and gave off a strong aura of self-satisfaction.
“How kind of him,” he announced. “Lord Bainstall has also told me pleasant things about you, Lady Morgan. He spoke of your gentle and biddable nature and your many womanly accomplishments. And when he said you were well looking, he did not do you justice. You are quite lovely, quite lovely indeed.”
The bishop peered at Letitia in a way that made her distinctly uncomfortable. She removed her hand from his clasp and moved towards the settee.
“Will you not sit down?” she asked.
Dr. Wolfe seated himself with alacrity. “What a lovely home you have here,” he said. “I commend you on your taste. Kensington, while not so fashionable as other areas, is well suited for a widow in straitened circumstances.” At Letitia’s surprised look he continued. “I know you will not mind that your cousin has shared with me the details of your situation. As a man of God and a trustworthy friend he knew that I could be trusted with such a confidence.”
The bishop paused politely for Letitia’s comment, but as she was too startled to make one, he continued.
“I must convey to you my condolences on the death of your husband. I did not know Lord Morgan, but I am sure he was a noble soul, as any member of such an old and distinguished family must be. It is very sad that his life was cut short in such an unhappy way.”
“Indeed,” said Letitia, struggling to get her bearings.
“But as sad as a death is, the survivors must go on,” continued Dr. Wolfe. “My own dear wife died some two years ago, and I mourned her deeply, but now I find that it is time I put that behind me. It would be selfish of a gentleman, still relatively young and with a good fortune, not to marry again.”
“I am sure that many women would find you a most eligible suitor,” Letitia answered cautiously.
“I thank you, Lady Morgan, for that compliment. A young woman might be excused for considering me a bit mature. I am glad to find you do not.”
Letitia felt that the conversation was entering dangerous territory that she did not care to tread, and asked the bishop if he would care for some tea. Upon his agreeing, she rang for the maid, and some moments passed in the ordering of refreshments.
Letitia attempted to restart the conversation on a more general note. “How are you acquainted with my cousin?” she asked.
“Bainstall and I were at Oxford together,” said the Bishop. “We grew close then, as we were more serious-minded than our other classmates. I have a great admiration and affection for him, as I am sure you do as well.”
“I am aware that he has a great interest in my welfare,” said Letitia.
“As he should. A woman alone must be a great concern for the head of the family, and Bainstall has a well-developed sense of duty. He is aware that it is very important for a young widow with small children to find another husband to take care of her.”
Letitia fought down a rising sense of panic at the uncomfortable turns the conversation continued to take. “My husband has been dead less than half a year, Dr. Wolfe,” she said as repressively as possible. “I have given no thought to a second marriage.”
“A certain amount of loyalty to the dead is, of course, very proper,” said the bishop firmly. “However, you must not allow your sorrow to overshadow what is best for you and your children. Women are not fit to govern themselves, and your son needs the firm hand of a father, just as a girl needs a mother’s loving care. I myself have two daughters who miss their mama dreadfully.”
At this welcome moment Nellie returned with the tea tray. Letitia was appalled that the Bishop had not only materialized, but had apparently been led by her cousin to believe that she was seeking a second husband, and that he was a likely candidate. As she poured the tea she cudgeled her brains, trying to think what Isobel might do in such a situation.
Letitia handed the bishop his cup of tea and made one last attempt to steer the conversation away from uncomfortable topics. “We have been having exceptionally pleasant weather of late, have we not?” she asked. It was not what Lady Exencour might have said, but at least it did not have to do with marriage.
“Quite delightful,” said Dr. Wolfe. “We are lucky to be blessed with sunshine so early in the year.”
“The Gardens are lovely. The children enjoy playing there very much,” observed Letitia.
“My daughters also enjoy playing out-of-doors, although I usually attempt to turn their minds to more studious matters,” said the Bishop. “Girls do need some education, though I would not be so foolish as to encourage them in scholarly pretensions. Perhaps I might bring them to visit someday so our children may become acquainted. I fancy they would get along very well.”
“I am sure that they would, but I am not certain that...” Letitia’s voice dwindled off.
“If you are worried about the impropriety of my visiting you, you need not,” said Dr. Wolfe. “As a man of God I believe that no one could judge my actions to be less than proper. You need not worry about the gossips.”
“I have no reason to fear wagging tong
ues,” said Letitia with dignity. “However,” she continued, her color heightening, “I yet have some concerns about your visit.”
“What concerns are these, ma’am?” asked Dr. Wolfe, seeming quite bewildered.
“It seems my cousin misled you into believing that I seek a husband,” said Letitia, keeping a firm image of Isobel in her mind. “This is not the case. I have no notion of when I may wish to remarry, but it will not be soon.”
“Your sentiments are very proper, Lady Morgan, and they do you credit,” said the bishop heartily. “However, I would have thought you past the stage of being missish. Your children are young, your situation precarious. Bainstall simply indicated that you were a sensible woman who would realize my value.”
“I am sure your value is great,” said Letitia, suppressing a giggle that threatened to escape her, for although she was alarmed she had not lost her sense of the ridiculous. “But I am afraid my cousin has misrepresented my situation. I have no intention of marrying again soon.”
Bishop Wolfe gazed at her for a moment in some perplexity and then, to Letitia’s surprise, a smile broke out on his round face.
“But of course,” he said jovially. “I must apologize. You are still young enough that you wish to be wooed in proper fashion. Bainstall and I should have realized that you are not ready to let go of your romantic longings. Say no more, Lady Morgan. I will take your warning to heart. You shall have a proper courtship.”
It was now Letitia’s turn to look perplexed. “I do not wish to be courted,” she began, her voice rising a bit. “I am very sorry, but--”
“Now, my dear, you must not go on,” interrupted the bishop. “All ladies wish to be courted, and I assure you that I will do so very properly. I appreciate your scruples, but you must not discourage me too thoroughly, or perhaps I might not come back!” He laughed merrily to indicate to his listener that this statement was a mere jest, and she was not to be concerned. “I think we understand one another very well,” he continued.
An Honest Deception Page 9
