The Earl's Revenge

by Allison Lane

  “Eavesdropping is not considered a virtue,” he dutifully intoned.

  “I could not help it. I was in bed for the night, and they were right under my window. Lady Means was yelling at her husband, demanding that they leave because the service is so bad here. But he refused, saying something about drowning in a river and having to get rid of Lucinda. What do you suppose he meant by that?”

  “Drowning in the River Tick is an expression that means he is deeply in debt. One way to recover is to visit friends, for that reduces his expenses.”

  “Oh, like outrunning the constable,” said Helen in understanding. “That is what Cousin Harold is doing. And Mr. Hardwicke is dodging dumps.”

  “Duns,” corrected Mark, hiding a smile.

  “Dodging duns. What is a dun?”

  “It is a reminder that a person has not yet paid for something.”

  “Is dodging duns worse than not having a feather to fly with?”

  “Yes, I suppose it is.”

  “I heard Lucy describe Mrs. Woodleigh like that. She is looking for a husband to pay her bills. Are all the people here having money trouble?”

  “You are too knowing, little one.” He smiled indulgently at his daughter. “But the answer is no. Lord Carrington has no need to outrun anyone.”

  “I know that. He is your friend, so he doesn’t really count as a guest. Cousin Harold certainly is not a friend.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He looks at you the same way Freddie looks at a rat. He found one in the stable yesterday and killed it dead. He would not let me watch, though. He says that killing is not suitable entertainment for a lady, even when the victim is a pest. I think he needs a new cat. His best mouser disappeared last week. He says she is gone for good, but Mickey claims she is off having kittens. Do you think she might be? She was not particularly fat.”

  “I’m afraid I did not notice the stable cat,” he said solemnly, trying not to break into laughter at her delightful chatter.

  “Yes, you seldom see anything but the horses. Lord Carrington is the same. Oh, look, there are the Dancing Maidens. Miss Elaine says that some people believe they were young ladies who disobeyed their mothers and stayed out too late. For punishment, they were turned into stones to remind other girls to follow the rules.”

  He suppressed a smile. “Be sure you do then.”

  “I am most careful to always return home before dinner,” she said with a grin. “I would not want to spend eternity frozen on the moor.”

  “Good.”

  They paused to rest in the stone circle, though Helen showed no signs of weariness. She darted in and out, criticized the stones’ unmaidenly shapes, picked seven varieties of wildflowers, and then amazed her father by telling him the name and uses of each one. By the time they remounted and turned the horses back toward the house, Mark was pleasantly exhausted.

  Helen continued to chatter about all manner of things. He was surprised to find that he not only did not mind, he actually enjoyed being with her. She had a quick wit and a keen intelligence, neither of which she could possibly have inherited from her mother. After only a fortnight of formal instruction, she had already expanded her knowledge to prodigious levels.

  * * * *

  “What am I going to do?” Elaine asked, dropping into a chair by the fireplace in Anne’s room. “Mrs. Hedges will never let this drop. She has been looking for a scandal in my background since I refused to divulge the aristocratic connections she was convinced I had.”

  “You are right, of course. She is jealous of a pretty young girl, and that is worse now that everyone else admires you so much. She is a stickler for propriety, and does not consider me to be enough your senior to count as a proper chaperone. Knowing you jilted a lord is just the ammunition she has been seeking. Frankly, I am amazed we have kept your artistic endeavors a secret for all these years.”

  “It is worse than just the jilt,” said Elaine with a sigh. “Bridgeport’s attentions have convinced the lower-minded members of this party that I am his latest conquest. Rumors to that effect must have made it to the village, judging from her parting words.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “Oh, yes. So what am I to do? I cannot move too far from Bodmin, for Mr. Holyoke is my only connection to Mr. Murray. There is little chance of developing another. Most men feel too threatened by the idea of female competence to consider helping one, no matter how remote a threat she poses to them. Yet I cannot stay in the area. There is no way to ignore ostracism in a community this size.”

  “It might be better to stay here and face her down. If you explain the truth to Squire Sutton, his backing could help. Julius would also stand behind you, as would Sir Jeremiah. Many people dislike Mrs. Hedges enough that they would support you no matter what the facts. There would be several months of unpleasantness, but in the end, you are bound to win.”

  “And that would help you, as well,” agreed Elaine slowly. “This rumor must be exposed for the falsehood it is if you are to be happy with Mr. Reeves.”

  Anne sighed. “There is little enough scandal to attach to me, so you need not worry about that. It might even enhance my credentials as a proper vicar’s wife – an example of the Good Samaritan, though I don’t for a moment endorse that view. It is your own life that we must address.”

  “Of course, but to be fair you must tell him what has happened and why.” She related Bridgeport’s revenge plot and his vow to desist.

  “The man is despicable,” sputtered Anne.

  “Do not be too harsh,” begged Elaine. “It must have been a mortifying experience for him, and he did not know me at all. I can hardly blame him for seeking revenge. If I had had the least idea that Father would delay so long before notifying him, I would have risked sending him a note myself.”

  Anne gave her a sharp look, but dropped the subject. “I will speak to Julius tomorrow,” she promised. “And you will hold your head up and show Mrs. Hedges how a real lady behaves.”

  “All right. For the present, I will stay.”

  But it wasn’t going to be easy. She headed for her room to change for dinner.

  * * * *

  Mark spotted Sir Jeremiah in the distance as he and Helen returned from their ride. It was as good a place as any to start his campaign against Mrs. Hedges. If he could crack the gossip’s control of the community, he could at least rescue Miss Becklin’s reputation. Elaine was a thornier problem, for even after he debunked the rumors, the facts would condemn her on their own. Jilting a gentleman – especially a lord – was unforgivable to country conservatives. It was bad enough in the eyes of a London society that accepted all manner of unprincipled behavior – including infidelity as long as it was circumspect. Unfortunately, logic did not intrude into the standards of the day.

  Sending Helen back to the house, he rode out to intercept the baronet.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” he called as he approached.

  Sir Jeremiah nodded coolly and made as if to leave.

  “I see you have heard the rumors,” Mark said, keeping his voice light and friendly. “Miss Thompson informs me that you are an educated man. I hope you can keep an open mind long enough to judge the truth for yourself.”

  “Very well, my lord. Is it true that you are a libertine of long standing?”

  “Yes.”

  Sir Jeremiah glared.

  Mark continued. “I have never hidden my interest in the fair sex, nor have I limited that interest to the demimonde, but I have never seduced an innocent. Such behavior is beneath the dignity of any gentleman.”

  The baronet stared at him for a long time. “Then how do you explain the stories?”

  “I have a cousin who is an inveterate gamester. Some weeks ago I turned down his request for a loan. Soon scurrilous rumors began to circulate accusing me of all manner of crimes. I was unable to find the author, but when they began to damage the reputations of innocent parties, it seemed prudent to leave town for a while in hopes the furor w
ould blow over. Unfortunately, the rumors followed me here, changing form to attract the maximum malice from the local population.”

  “Changing form?” asked Sir Jeremiah, raising one brow.

  Mark grimaced. “In town I am accused of dishonorably fleecing numerous gentlemen of considerable fortunes, then poisoning one of them when he dared object. Imagine my surprise when I discovered in Bodmin that I have gamed away every farthing of my inheritance, acquiring so many debts that I cannot even pay my servants.”

  The baronet chuckled. “Have you discovered the culprit, then?”

  “My cousin. He is the only one who was in both London and Cornwall. The London stories died when he left. Miss Thompson helped unmask him. She grew up near his estate and witnessed similar behavior in the past.”

  “Is that why you included her in this party?” he asked chillingly.

  “No. The party descended on me without invitation. I needed help and asked Miss Thompson and Miss Becklin for their assistance. Unfortunately, my cousin seems to have talked himself into some other grievance I have yet to discover. Being dissatisfied with the results of his rumor campaign, he chose to strike at me again while Mrs. Hedges was visiting this afternoon. But this time his vitriolic remarks hurt Miss Thompson and Miss Becklin instead of me.”

  “Do you mean he accused her of being your mistress?” he asked bluntly.

  “No. He has been doing that for days – wrongly, of course. What he did was to disclose, in the most damaging way possible, the one true fact that could give credence to his web of lies.”

  “And that was–?”

  “Eight years ago Miss Thompson terminated our betrothal.”

  Sir Jeremiah blanched. “You were betrothed?”

  “Yes. She was entirely right to do so. It was match arranged by our respective parents. When I learned that her father had forced her into it, against her wishes and without her consent, I gladly agreed to terminate it. But Mrs. Hedges knows none of those details and is so delighted to discover something scandalous that she is determined to pillory the girl. The result will hurt Miss Becklin and destroy Miss Thompson.”

  “There is no stopping Mrs. Hedges once she gets the bit between her teeth,” observed Sir Jeremiah. “The most I can do is mention the facts to others.”

  “Thank you. I hope they can judge the situation on its merits. I wish there was something more I could do, but any efforts I make would be misconstrued. I will have to settle for devising an appropriate punishment for my loose-lipped cousin.”

  Bidding the man farewell, Mark rode back to the Manor deep in thought.

  * * * *

  That night the drawing room atmosphere was tenser than it had been since the day the guests had arrived, and Elaine did not think that it was due only to her own problems. After all, Mr. Parrish had long since informed the houseguests of her perfidy. But Mrs. Hedges had struck more than one nerve with her parting diatribe. And dear Harold wasn’t helping.

  All eyes turned when she paused in the doorway, then all conscientiously returned to ongoing discussions. Lady Means was frowning openly at her niece, who was laughing with Mr. Taylor. Her expression darkened when Harold stopped to murmur something in her ear before passing on to Mrs. Woodleigh. That lady glared malevolently toward Lords Carrington and Bridgeport, who were conducting a low-voiced discussion in one corner. The widow finally embarked on a deliberate flirtation with Lord Means, whose responses soon had her purring.

  Mr. Hardwicke and Miss Throckmorton also received Harold’s attentions. Mr. Hardwicke’s jaw had developed a noticeable bruise where Mark had hit him that morning. It hardened after an exchange with Parrish. Only Miss Westmont seemed normal, placidly conversing with Anne, but Elaine caught a glimpse of fear in her eyes and wondered if Mrs. Woodleigh calmed her own irritation by abusing her companion.

  Dinner was likewise strained.

  “This will blow over,” Carrington assured Elaine when the first course had been served. “I hope you are not planning to run away.”

  “Aside from having no place to go, I could not do that to Anne,” she replied softly. “She must live here for the rest of her life. It would be unfair to leave her with a damaged reputation after everything she has done for me.”

  “Wise of you.”

  “Just look at these Brussels sprouts,” groused Lady Means loudly, stabbing a fork into the mushy vegetable on her plate. “One would think Bridgeport might hire a decent cook. With all the other discomforts of living in this house, being subjected to wretched food is too much.”

  Elaine caught the earl’s eye and nearly choked at his amusement. It was so clear she wondered that no one else could see it. Cook’s efforts had grown markedly worse after a conversation with him two days before.

  “Perhaps you would be happier back in London,” he suggested now, turning to stare at Lady Means.

  “How dare she upbraid me for my manners when hers are so lacking?” whispered Miss Throckmorton to Mr. Taylor as Lady Means reddened, but the silence that followed Mark’s suggestion allowed the girl’s question to carry to every ear.

  “The servant situation gets worse every day,” complained Mrs. Woodleigh, jumping into the cross-table conversation in support of Lady Means. “One of them has absconded with a whole skein of green thread. How can I possibly finish my needlework without it?”

  No one bothered to respond, though Elaine caught the question in Bridgeport’s eye and shook her head the tiniest amount. It had not turned up, and none of the staff had entered any guest’s room.

  “There is always Bodmin,” murmured Miss Westmont, though softly enough that Mrs. Woodleigh did not hear.

  “I believe I may head back to town in a couple of days,” drawled Mr. Hardwicke. “The company here is too low for comfort.”

  Elaine felt a flush creeping up her face and wished there was something she could do – like fall through the floor. But then she realized that he was looking from Lady Means to Mrs. Woodleigh, both of whom gasped in outrage.

  “No, no,” Harold snapped at a footman. “I don’t want mushrooms. Nasty things. I shan’t touch them.”

  Mark’s attention was diverted from Hardwicke to Willy, who spooned a generous helping onto his plate. Harold had refused to even look at a mushroom since the ‘accident’ though he had gobbled them as greedily as Mark earlier in that first meal.

  “Will you be stopping at Newmarket on your way back to town, Hardwicke?” asked Carrington casually. “I hear Darlington’s new filly is a sure bet to win.”

  His deliberate question soon had all the gentlemen discussing horses. Elaine breathed a sigh of relief and turned her attention to her plate. Mrs. Woodleigh and Lady Means began a conversation on the latest fashions that formed a counterpoint to the races. No one was bothering with manners this evening, but at least the tension had eased. By the time she rose to lead the ladies into the drawing room, Elaine had relaxed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elaine stared out of her window at the flank of Lookout Peak that was visible in the distance. It was tempting to walk out to the cave, but that would merely emphasize what she was on the verge of losing. A night of sleepless contemplation had altered her decision.

  The eight years she had spent on this wild coast had been good ones, filled with kind friends, learning, intellectual discussion, and the establishment of a fulfilling career. But she could not stay. Despite Anne’s words, knocking heads with Mrs. Hedges would never work. The woman was too entrenched as the arbiter of propriety.

  Elaine had long suspected that the gossip retained her power through the subtle use of blackmail. The best she could hope for was the support of part of the community. But that ran the risk of creating a permanent schism. In a village the size of Treselyan, such a battle would harm everyone. And given the length of country memories, it might take several generations for the animosity to fade.

  Her reputation was not worth the cost. And so she must leave. If she departed soon, the rumors would quickly die. A
nd that was important. Anne would recover from their association. Her friend could then marry and build her own life.

  Sighing, Elaine turned back to the room. Perhaps Mr. Holyoke could suggest a new home. She could change her name. It might even be possible to do business with the solicitor by post, though it would cut into her income. But if she moved to a large town like Exeter, it would be easier to hide her vocation.

  The house party was visiting the ruins of Tintagel in two days. No one would care if she skipped the expedition. She would have ample time to drive into Bodmin and visit her solicitor. Once she explained the details of that ancient sojourn in London, he would understand the problem. He might already know the basic facts. Beringer had known her full name and must have connected her to the one who had jilted Staynes.

  Decision made, she headed for her cottage. First she would sort and package the sketches, so they were ready to forward to Mr. Murray. Then she would arrange for the use of Mr. Reeves’s gig. She had a standing invitation to borrow it whenever she needed to go into town. And it would not hurt to discuss the situation with Julius. He could help convince Anne that there was no other choice. Staying would thrust the vicar into the middle of whatever battle erupted. He could easily lose the support of both sides.

  The morning mist had nearly burned away, leaving only bright sunshine that lightened her heart. The Treselyan gates opened onto a twisting lane flanked by ancient hedgerows rife with birds, all in full song. Passing Mr. Beringer’s now-empty cottage, she pulled a key from her reticule, then turned in at her own gate.

  The front garden needed work, she noted, shaking her head. It was amazing how unkempt it had got after only a week of neglect. Weeds had sprouted everywhere, faded flowers needed to be removed, and Anne had not finished the pruning before they’d moved to the Manor.

  She pushed the key into the lock and gasped. The door was already open. Had Anne come down?

  It was possible, of course. Elaine had not mentioned her own plans. Or perhaps she had sent Lucy to retrieve something.