"It is hard, but you need to try, and can't let yourself get distracted. If you like the girl, tell her so. Get some sort of understanding with her one way or the other, and get on with your job."
Will's face closed up as Monroe reminded him of the task at hand. He should be working on his long list of duties, not swanning about making moon-eyes at Elizabeth.
"You're right, of course. My duty."
"What about Lady Elizabeth?" Baines asked.
He shook his head and sighed. "I can't. It wouldn't be fair. Look at me. Scarred as I am, inside and out."
"Parks has his fair share too, you know," Monroe pointed out.
"I know. But mine run deeper. There are more of them, and they weren't all caused by the war."
Baines said, "Vevina has managed to put it behind her. So have I, come to that. Even I've killed, poor humble secretary though I was until I met Samuel Fitzgerald. He made me do things I burn with shame to recall. If I had been any more polluted by him, I would have killed your own sister. Possibly even you too."
Will looked over at his smiling sister. "Viv has flourished, it's true. But she has a rare love with Stewart that's helped her win through against the darkness. Elizabeth is too delicate to ever understand what I've endured, what I've done."
Monroe shook his head. "I think you're underestimating her. She's young and lovely, but strong too. There's sorrow there. I know Stewart mentioned some very serious family trouble two years ago which only resolved itself in the spring. Something about a lost sister and niece. If anyone is capable of understanding you, not judging your past, I believe it's Elizabeth Eltham."
Will ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged. "Well, only time will tell. She has the opportunity to pick one of us, or even none of us. We shall just have to wait and see. I'm going to head back home. I have to check on the new roof. Leave the workers here alone for a second and they slack off." He gave the two men a meaning look, and left them with the children and ponies.
He strode up to Vevina and Elizabeth and made his apologies.
"But you will come for dinner at four?" Elizabeth asked quickly.
"Well...."
"Oh do, please."
"Shall I dress?
"Yes, we're all going to dress and perform some of She Stoops to Conquer. The four of us were in it last year at Brimley and we can still recall all our lines and thought it might amuse."
"If you need a Tony Lumpkin I'm at your service," Parks offered.
Will grinned. "What part did you play, Lady Elizabeth?"
"I was Miss Hardcastle."
"In that case I simply must be your Mr. Marlow," Fitzsimmons interjected before anyone else could say a word.
"But Vanessa and Clifford also had parts—" Elizabeth tried to say in an effort to dissuade him.
He waved his hand airily. "They must have been Hastings and Miss Neville. So Marlow's part, and his luck with a lovely lady such as yourself must be mine."
"Oh, no really. Perhaps you might like to-"
"So long as you have a book, I can play whatever part you like," Parks said, to try to cover up her embarrassment.
"Thank you."
"We shall settle it later, my dear," Fitzsimmons said mildly.
But Elizabeth could tell he was determined to get his own way in being the romantic hero in more ways than one.
Wasn't this what she had wanted, a more strong pressing of her mysterious lover's suit? Why then did she feel so, so trapped? Cornered all the time? Flustered, on edge. Off balance whenever any of the three men were around?
"We shan't have time for the whole thing. Just Act One will suffice," Thomas said when he saw her sister's high colour.
Fitzsimmons grinned. "A pity, but I shall still look forward to it."
Some of the more racy lines and actions in the play came to mind, and she blushed again. Really, was this another hint as to his identity?
She simply couldn't be sure of anything at the moment, least of all her own feelings, much as it pained her to admit it. She had gone from having no beaux, to one vibrant shadowy one, to four or five in the space of only a couple of days.
As she stood there in confusion, she felt a warm hand upon her arm, and jumped.
"I shall seen you anon, my dear Lady Elizabeth."
"Oh, er, yes, Sir Wilfred, at four, if you please."
"I would be pleased if you called me Mr. Joyce, or Will. Sir Wilfred was my father, poor man."
"Oh, er, yes, er, Mr. Joyce. Though surely your army title--"
"Is a reminder of the past I would prefer not to have to carry with me for the rest of my life."
She blinked in surprise. "But if the rank was earned--"
"There is nothing noble about war, Lady Elizabeth. I take no pride in any title. I am a Sir thanks to the death of a father I loved. There is no cause to rejoice in that."
"No, indeed," she said with a sniff, thinking of the loss of her own father and how deeply her brother had mourned him, when everyone else had envied him ascending to the Dukedom.
"As for my military titles," he continued, "I did what any patriot would do. That is all."
She met his aquamarine gaze head on and nodded. "Very well, then, Mr. Joyce. Will."
He bowed over her hand and went grumbling to himself all the way back home about how churlish he had been with her. But then, he was sure he had reason to be, as he cursed the ill luck that had ever caused him to fall in love with a woman who would probably never even take a second look at him if he were the last man in Ardmore.
Chapter Twelve
Much as Will longed to linger with Elizabeth Eltham at Clancar Castle, Will left the field to the other men all vying for his attention, and went off to attend to his duties in the cave.
He knew he should have told Monroe that he had located it. Located it some time ago, in fact. But something held him back. After all, the more people who knew about a secret, the less likely it was that it would remain one.
Elizabeth enjoyed herself at Clancar Castle, but somehow as the afternoon wore on, she felt more and more weary of the company. The children were all a delight, and Vevina was a wonderful companion, but the men constantly competing for her attention began to put her on edge. Finally at two she announced her intention of leaving.
"I must dress for dinner, and see to a few business matters with the steward," she said as she excused herself.
"Two hours dressing, five minutes to, er, do business," Fitzsimmons said with a twinkle in his eye.
Parks scowled. Really, the man and his innuendoes were really starting to get on his nerves. He knew he was a cousin of Stewart's, but there was just something about him that was not quite right…. And almost familiar.
Perhaps it was the strong superficial similarities family manner, but it was vaguely disquieting having him hanging about constantly, especially since the Duke's frown indicated that he didn't think much of him either.
"We are heartbroken and bereft, Lady Elizabeth, that you should leave us," Parks said, "but please, do not let us keep you from your most important estate business." He bowed to her.
"We shall see you at four, then," Fitzsimmons said. "I and my sisters."
"Four?" she echoed blankly.
"For dinner, of course."
"Oh, er, yes." She had not really intended to invite the entire family, but there now seemed no help for it without appearing excessively particular, not to say rude.
"Yes, all of you at four."
She bowed to Parks, who bestowed a winning smile upon her, and took her brother's left arm.
Vevina and Clifford followed on behind with their children, and she was relieved when they were all fairly quiet on the trip back. Her thoughts were so swirling she could barely make sense of them.
Thomas said, "If you find them all too boisterous we can always cry off having the ball at the end of the week."
"No, really, they will all enjoy it so. In any case, I am to set the tone in the district, along with the Duke a
nd Duchess of Clancar, of course," she added hastily. "I must try to be friends with everyone."
"You will be careful though, Sister, won't you? I would not like you to get into trouble because you are being exceedingly and unfailingly polite as always."
"If you mean about Mr. Fitzsimmons, it was rather forward of him to include his whole party, but they are after all distant relations."
"However, they also put themselves forward last night. It's not a habit you will want to encourage, especially if you're a young woman on your own here."
"I know. I had rather thought perhaps one or both of the Miss Lynches might suit as an appropriate companion. They are both quiet and fairly intelligent, and respectable."
"I don't disagree. But then you might be often in the company of Sean, who is said to be a bit wild when he has taken too much to drink."
"The same can be said for many of the Irish," Charlotte pointed out. "It is a stereotype, like the rampant seducer soldier."
"Yes, dearest. How true," the Duke replied mildly. "Only in his case, I rather fear it is more than just stereotype. He most certainly went into the small parlor and helped himself to the decanters last night. I suppose it is partly my fault for leaving temptation in people's way.
"As you say, Elizabeth, we must set the tone. If I have never held with strong spirits in the house for myself, I ought not to buy them and have them in my home."
"It is no loss to me certainly. Wine for special occasions and a spot of medicinal brandy, by all means, but whiskey, no. Banish it from the parlor by all means."
"In that case we shall make a generous gift to Mr. Phelps. I know he likes a tot and will not abuse the privilege, but rather savor it for some considerable time to come."
"Oh dear, that's yet another thing I am ignorant of," Elizabeth said. "The wine cellar."
"Well, you do have the wonderful Edgars to assist you in that regard. He is indeed most knowledgeable on wines."
"I only know what you select for me."
"We can have a tasting, and I shall teach you what I know. Not that I'm encouraging you to drink, mind, but a tasting is, after all, supposed to be only that, not a spree.
"Clifford will help, won't you, old man? You have some real gems in your cellar back at Stone Court."
"I have my father to thank for that," he said modestly. "If you would like me to join you in setting something up for tomorrow evening, I would be happy to help. Anything to expand Elizabeth's education."
She nodded. "Speaking of which, remind me to invite the vicar and verger around to tea so that we can get the adult reading classes underway."
Thomas warned his sister, "You may find some resistance to the idea here, you know. Some of the more narrow-minded here have a vested interest in keeping the people downtrodden. If they get ideas of a better life, they may just start demanding one."
"And so they should." Elizabeth said stoutly. "Rank and privilege also has its duties and responsibilities."
"Hah, spoken like a true Rakehell," Clifford said with a beaming smile.
She returned it. "Well, it's just that I know we've been twitted about us having so many houses, but every single one of the properties is well-run even if we are absentee landlords. Every single one has a village school nearby which you helped endow, or Father before you. We're doing a great deal of good, not just having them till the fields, or charging them such exorbitant rents on their ramshackle cottages that they're constantly in arrears and could not leave to find a better place elsewhere even if they wanted to."
"It is said the Fitzsimmons' tenantry are very badly pinched indeed, especially the serving women," Vanessa put in with a significant look at Thomas.
"Indeed." Elizabeth frowned. "Well, there is much of that sort of gossip here in Ireland. They do make up the most fantastic stories about each other. Like Mrs. Lynch's newborn having a snout on her like a pig."
They all laughed heartily.
"And I dare say if they are inventive enough they can even come up with some terrible things to say about us, or Stewart and his family," Thomas said with a smile which did not reach his eyes. "Don't believe everything you hear is my motto, but pay attention to what is being said all the same."
Once again, Elizabeth got the sense that there was a lot more going on in the district than met the eye. She tried to shake off her uneasy feeling, and hurried back to Ellesmere Manor to get ready for the evening.
Chapter Thirteen
Having returned to Ellesmere Manor, they all went about their business.
Elizabeth had dealt with the menu that morning, but now had to warn Cook that there would be twice the number for dinner.
True to her word, Elizabeth did have business with the steward, learning all she could about the estate. She not come out of the study until quarter to four, and raced upstairs to give herself a cat lick, and brush out and re-style her hair.
She surveyed her gowns, and decided she did not want to appear too fine. Charlotte and Vanessa were good but not modish dressers, and she did not want to eclipse Vevina, who seemed to not worry very much what she wore so long as she was decently clad.
Not that there was anything wrong with her taste, but she was constantly romping with the children and seemed not to care in the least for jewels or her coiffure. But she was a most happy woman, with a surpassingly devoted partner.
Elizabeth knew there was more to life than clothes and baubles—just how much more she had had a taste of in the cave.
She blushed at her fevered recollections, and grabbed the first gown that came to hand, a shimmering dark blue silk with lace trim which set off her eyes, making them look twice as large, and her hair, a rich deep black with hidden highlights which were almost midnight blue in colour.
She took up her matching gloves and an embroidery hoop and her reticule, and went below. She passed the time stitching in the drawing room downstairs as the guest began to assemble.
The Fitzsimmons clan had already arrived by the time she went down. Fortunately Clifford was managing to keep Marcus busy with talk of hunting and fishing thereabouts, so she could further her acquaintance with his sisters.
She rather wished she had not, for they did nothing but quiz her about all the men of the party that day, what they had done and said. It was evident they were trying to decide who was the best one for each to set their cap at. Since they were so sharp-eyed, it was surprising that they were not both making a beeline for either Parks or Will.
Amelia pointed out, "La, a career soldier? Not for me. All that dirt and discomfort. And no chances at prize money or loot now that the war is over, so the pay will be mean enough."
Elizabeth stiffened. "I'm glad the war is over. It has meant far more than simply loot, which is nothing more than stealing, may I remind you. Why, my brother tells me Wellington was most severe upon that sort of thing—"
"Sheer hypocrisy," Mary interjected, licking her lips with relish. "You can't tell me any soldier in their right mind wouldn't pick up a souvenir or two if it were dangled in front of his nose."
"I'm sorry, but my brother and our cousin Stewart don't seem those kind of men. Nor were my brother's set."
"More fool them, then."
"Or Mr. Joyce, or Mr. Parks," she added.
"I don't know about Parks, but that there Will Joyce is rich as Croesus after the war. Not from looting, of course, you're correct," said Amelia, "but what he did is a far worse sin in our books, and we shan't have more to do with him than we have to."
Elizabeth opened her mouth to demand to know what she was talking about. Just then the subject of the discussion appeared, still clad in black, though it was now silk evening garb. She sat with her mouth open, hardly knowing what to say or think. What on earth had Amelia meant?
Her brother caught her eye, and he shook his head. He did a rather good if catty imitation of the two sisters behind their backs which Will and Parks caught, and all four of them smiled.
The sisters, who had just been so dismissive
of the two young men a moment before, now pounced upon them as eagerly as if they were on the menu, and they hadn't eaten all day.
"Pray excuse me, Lady Elizabeth. I fear I must—" Will said, as he was dragged away to the opposite end of the table with Parks, leaving Fitzsimmons to escort her into dinner.
She could see now why Marcus had insisted upon Amelia and Mary coming. Rather a clever little gambit. But once again she got that cornered feeling only he seemed to produce.
Cornered, or intimate, knowing what she had seemingly shared with him in the cave? If it had been him. If it had, why did she not feel so thrilled by his company?
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 43
