A Rival Heir

by Laura Matthews

  Saying this, she laid her head back against the chair and closed her eyes. Miss Armstrong placed a blanket over her aunt’s knees and beckoned Sir Hugh through a door into the smaller parlor. Sir Hugh saw a number of books lying on the table there and assumed these were the books the librarian had brought.

  He picked up one of the volumes and turned it over, recognizing a popular guidebook to Bath. "My sister mentioned that the young man at the lending library had brought by some books for you and your aunt. That was exceptionally kind of him, especially considering the treatment to which my godmother subjected him on the occasion I happened upon the two of you. Or perhaps it was not the same man?" he asked blandly.

  "Yes, it was Mr. Bentley, the same young man. Aunt Longstreet has managed to be abrupt with him on more than one occasion, but he is so good as to overlook her ill humor."

  "Very good of him indeed. And yet, I cannot help but wonder if his advent at your home was not something of a surprise?" He made it sound a question, but Nell did no more than blink at him. "What I mean is, unless you had suggested that he call here, perhaps you did not welcome his intrusion. My godmother might consider it something of a liberty."

  "I did not suggest that he come, Sir Hugh, but I did not find it distressing that he did. My aunt is not as yet aware that he called, as she was resting at the time. All things considered, I believe I shan't tell her that he did."

  Hugh felt suspicion prod at him. "And why is that?"

  Miss Armstrong--Nell, as his sister would call her--moved to the small sofa, straightened a pillow, then went to the window and lightly touched the curtain. "It is my policy not to distress my aunt any more than is strictly necessary, Sir Hugh. If I felt that there was something improper about Mr. Bentley's visit, or that he had some nefarious purpose in discovering where we lived, then I should certainly inform my aunt. But I have no such suspicion." She turned then and regarded him curiously. "Have you?"

  "No. I merely find the behavior a trifle—odd." Sir Hugh could hear the stiffness in his own voice.

  "Your sister didn't."

  "My sister is a romantic."

  "And you are not."

  Sir Hugh did not like the flat way she said it, as though it were not to his credit. "I am a practical man, Miss Armstrong. Sometimes I ask myself what motive a man has for doing what he does. That may not be a very trusting attitude, but it is a prudent one. I assure you that I do not suspect Mr. Bentley of any unworthy purpose. No doubt he is precisely the generous fellow he presents himself as. But because his actions are somewhat out of the ordinary, and because they circumspectly touch my godmother, I choose not to overlook them. I hope you won't take my interest amiss."

  "Not at all. But I trust you have no intention of quizzing poor Mr. Bentley on his kindly impulse to befriend my aunt and myself."

  "I intend to do nothing but discover the young man's character, by having a word with his employer or someone who knows him."

  A flush brightened Nell’s cheeks, and she frowned. "You could lose him his job, Sir Hugh. What if his employer thought it unacceptable that he brought us books? I must ask that you not risk such a resolution."

  "My dear Miss Armstrong, that is hardly likely to happen. I would of course be circumspect."

  But she had come to a halt in front of him, the frown still creasing her brow. "I cannot feel sanguine about your plan, and I should hate to be responsible for something untoward happening. Rather, I would tell him not to come here again. Would that meet with your approval?"

  Feeling that somehow matters had gotten out of hand, Hugh abandoned his stiff tone and said, "It will not be necessary for you to tell him not to come again, Miss Armstrong! I beg your pardon for raising the issue in the first place. I had no intention of distressing you. If you are confident of Mr. Bentley's goodwill, I shall pursue the matter no further."

  "Thank you." Nell’s high color ebbed and she smiled a little wryly at him. "You know, there is no chance of his imposing on us, Sir Hugh. When you consider my aunt's disposition, you must realize that at the first hint of anything untoward, she would be likely to dispose of him in a fearsome manner."

  "True," he agreed, amazed and grateful she hadn’t taken offense. "I could find it in me to pity him, if she did. But enough of Mr. Bentley. Tell me what my godmother meant that you were the one who appreciated music."

  They had been standing all this time, but now she waved him to a chair and took one opposite. "Aunt Longstreet finds music soporific, I fear. I have only to sit down at the pianoforte for her to fall asleep. I, on the other hand, find music invigorating. I am not a particularly accomplished player, but I thoroughly enjoy it."

  "And would you welcome attending a musical evening here in Bath?"

  When she laughed, the sound was deliciously rippling, rich and melodious. "Oh, yes, I should enjoy it of all things. But I am inclined to believe that Aunt Longstreet would be dreadfully bored. In all likelihood she would fall into a slumber and snore!"

  "Does she do that often in the country?"

  "Most of our neighbors know better than to invite her for anything of a musical nature. She is not in the habit of going about much--at home. I was quite surprised to learn of her intention to come to Bath."

  "Yes, you may imagine my astonishment in encountering her at the circulating library. I had not the first notion that she was in the city."

  Nell shook her head slowly, a worried frown drawing her brows together. "I have actually been a little concerned about that, Sir Hugh. I’d thought of seeking your advice…"

  "By all means! What is it that troubles you?"

  For a moment the young woman didn't speak. He watched her expressive countenance as she continued to hesitate. He endeavored to look trustworthy, and was rewarded when she nodded slightly. Then she said, "Where to begin? I suppose when Mrs. Dorsey's letter arrived. Before that Aunt Longstreet had never in all the time I'd been with her suggested the possibility of traveling so far as one of the lakes. In fact, she had impressed upon me her truly deep dislike of travel."

  "She has mentioned as much to me, as well."

  "Yes, and yet after reading Mrs. Dorsey's letter, she turned to me, with quite a wicked look on her face, and said, 'Helen, we shall go to Bath.' I have seldom been so astonished in my life."

  "Do you know what the contents of the letter were?"

  Nell shook her head. "Not really. Aunt Longstreet indicated that Mrs. Dorsey recommended the Bath waters for her gout, but I hardly think that is possible."

  Sir Hugh's brows rose. "Why not?"

  "Because she and Mrs. Dorsey have corresponded for many years and the subject has never been broached before. Why should she do so now?"

  "Perhaps Miss Longstreet had only recently mentioned her gout to her friend."

  "Aunt Longstreet has never mentioned it at all! She likes her friends to believe that she is in perfect health for a woman of her age--to make them all envious, I believe." She smiled at him, and added, "She is given to describing her constitution as robust."

  "In some ways, I should think it is."

  "Oh, yes. But, Sir Hugh, since we have come to Bath, she has not contacted Mrs. Dorsey at all, and I am informed that the good lady lives but a few blocks from here."

  "It is easy enough to imagine a falling out between them," he suggested, bearing in mind his aunt's temperament.

  "Possibly." But Nell sounded skeptical. "Aunt Longstreet wrote back to her that time, however, and has since had a letter from her, which I believe she may also have answered. But I don't think she could have mentioned that we were coming to Bath!"

  "Odd, certainly. What do you know of Mrs. Dorsey?"

  "Very little, except that they have known each other forever. I had hoped you might recognize the name, as I understand you are a regular visitor to Bath."

  "I am, yes, but I cannot recall a Mrs. Dorsey. I did know a Ralph Dorsey a few years ago, but I believe he no longer lives here. In fact, I think he took orders and is serving in a par
ish not far from London."

  "I suppose she might be his mother," Nell said uncertainly. "Did you know where he lived?"

  "In the lower part of town, I believe, but that is merely a guess." Sir Hugh regarded her curiously. "What is it you feel is amiss, Miss Armstrong?"

  Nell made an all-encompassing gesture. "Everything. I know that sounds dramatic, but consider. Aunt Longstreet never leaves home, unless she has a very pressing reason. She never spends money if she can avoid it. And yet here we are in Bath--Bath, of all places. Why, it is almost as expensive to rent a place here as in the metropolis, I dare say. And then she told me we were coming at Mrs. Dorsey's suggestion, but we have made no attempt to contact Mrs. Dorsey. When I asked my aunt why her friend had not yet called upon us, she said, "She's probably out of town."

  "It's possible," he suggested.

  "But not very likely, is it, after her recommending that we come. Oh, no, I think Mrs. Dorsey is in Bath, but she does not know that we are here."

  "What possible reason could Miss Longstreet have for not contacting her?"

  "I ask myself that daily," Nell admitted, "but I have arrived at no reasonable answer. And then there is the matter of Lord Westwick."

  "Lord Westwick?"

  "Yes, he came to visit us and my aunt turned him away. When I reproached her with that, she was positively gleeful. She said, 'We are making progress, Helen.' But she would not enlighten me on her meaning. This morning she insisted I should shun his lordship but would give me no explanation. Do you not think that odd?"

  "For my godmother, no. She appears to dislike a great many people." Including myself, he might have added.

  "Well, yes, but this is different, I think. It's difficult for me to put my finger on the problem, but when you take it in conjunction with her strange behavior with regard to Mrs. Dorsey, I cannot help but be concerned that there is mischief afoot."

  Sir Hugh did not bother to ask her what type of mischief she suspected, because it was clear that Nell was at a loss on that score. Instead he asked, "In what way do you think I might be of service, Miss Armstrong? I should be happy to assist in any way I can."

  She smiled gratefully. "I believe there is something, if you would be so kind. It is not just a matter of curiosity with me, you understand. I am not a naturally suspicious or even particularly curious person, in the ordinary way. If you were to put out inquiries about a Mrs. Dorsey, a Gertrude Dorsey, I would be most appreciative. For if I knew her direction, I could pay her a visit and attempt to sort this matter out."

  "You would call on her without your aunt's knowledge?"

  Nell raised her chin. "I would. Do you think that reprehensible of me?"

  "Not at all." His lips twisted ruefully. "But if she should find out about it, she would not be pleased. In fact, she might very well do something drastic--like turn you off. And I cannot think that would be an acceptable conclusion to the affair."

  Nell frowned but eventually shook her head. "I don't think she would turn me off. I should certainly be in her black books for a while, but I am not exactly an employee. Longstreet Manor is my home, for as long as Aunt Longstreet lives. That is understood."

  Sir Hugh wondered by whom it was understood. He could not feel as certain as Nell that Miss Longstreet would not cast her out if she did something so counter to her will as to truly irritate that old autocrat. But he decided it was not his place to correct her at this point. He could, he felt certain, take the blame should anything go amiss.

  So he said only, "I shall see what I can do about discovering Mrs. Dorsey's address. In the meantime, I should like to take you and my godmother to a concert of Italian music this Friday evening, if that would suit you. Your aunt did say that it was your decision to make."

  "Oh, that would be delightful!" Nell beamed at him. "And I will do my best to see that my aunt does not fall asleep and disgrace herself."

  "Excellent. Until Friday then, when I will let you know the results of my inquiries." He rose and bowed to her, taking the opportunity to observe her more closely. She was not, as his friend Hopkins had suggested the previous evening, the goddess Juno. Though tall, she was actually a little on the delicate side, with thin wrists and a tiny waist, and feet no wider than a child's. But there was so much strength and determination in her face, and forthright honesty in her eyes, that one might well judge her at first sight to resemble that Roman divinity.

  Sir Hugh was accustomed to beauties who hadn't a thought in their heads, or bluestockings who had serious and weighty thoughts in theirs. Where did one place Miss Armstrong amongst this female acquaintance? She was not, certainly, of a nature similar to Emily's. He could not imagine her doing the impulsive things his sister did.

  And yet he could not quite believe she was the studious, disdaining woman his godmother chose to portray. There was something elusive about Nell. She would no doubt have laughed at the idea of anyone considering her mysterious, but Sir Hugh did feel there was a great deal more to her and her situation than met the eye.

  What disturbed Sir Hugh as he left her in the smaller parlor of the Queen Square house, was that she might indeed be swayed by the librarian’s attentions. Not that he knew anything against Mr. Bentley. The fellow seemed worthy enough, and Hugh suspected that he was from a good family as well. Also, one could scarcely complain of his mediocre prospects when Nell herself insisted that she had none. But Hugh wished he hadn't given his promise that he wouldn't investigate the librarian. In his mind Mr. Bentley was a far more promising subject for investigation than was Mrs. Dorsey.

  And what was it Nell suspected her aunt had in mind? There was undoubtedly a logical explanation for why she hadn't gotten in touch with her old friend and correspondent. Hugh paused at the corner of Barton Street, a frown creasing his brow. If Nell took the matter seriously, it behooved him to do likewise, he supposed. His godmother might very well be intent on making trouble, and Hugh could foresee himself being the person called upon to calm whatever storm she set in motion. Knowing his godmother as he did, Hugh did not doubt that she was capable of causing a great deal of damage--if she had a mind to.

  Nell had indicated that Lord Westwick figured rather prominently in his godmother's designs. And in no good fashion, either. Miss Longstreet had given his lordship the cut direct the previous evening at the assembly, despite the fact that the two were acquainted many years ago.

  Sir Hugh tipped his hat to a passing acquaintance, but continued walking. His thoughts were focused on trying to recall what he knew of the earl's history. He and Lord Westwick were by no means close, nor had the earl and Hugh's father been on more than nodding terms. Some bad blood there?

  Hugh could not remember any talk of trouble. His father had never hinted at any family disagreement with Westwick or given any indication of a personal dislike. They had merely seemed to keep a certain distance, the kind of distance one kept when one had few interests in common or one seldom encountered the other. Both of which were likely in this case.

  Sir Hugh believed that the earl and countess had lived the greater part of their time in Bath, rather than on their estate in Westmorland. Lord Westwick rode and hunted and maintained an admirable stable, even in town, as well as owning a horse farm not far from Bath. This last, in fact, had apparently taken the place of his estate in his affections, though his lady was not deemed to have shared his enthusiasm for horses or even for the horse farm. She had remained largely in their house in Bath, a splendid home overlooking luxurious parkland and the River Avon.

  The clatter of wheels from a passing hackney recalled Hugh to his surroundings and he realized his steps had brought him to Parade Street, not far from where Lord Westwick lived. On an impulse, he made his way there, climbed to the front door and plied the brass knocker. It was only a moment before a footman answered the door and assured Sir Hugh that his master was at home.

  Hugh was shown into a pleasant, sunny room elegantly furnished with divans and chairs covered in burgundy brocade, trimmed with go
ld tassels. It was an enchanting, whimsical room, with dancing rainbows made by a forest of crystals hung in the windows.

  A voice spoke behind him. "This is indeed a pleasant surprise. How kind of you to call, Sir Hugh."

  The baronet turned to see his host standing in the doorway, a warm smile on his patrician face. Hugh thought the earl looked a little peaked, as though he had perhaps not had a restful night, but that might have been his fancy.

  "Lord Westwick. I beg you will forgive my intrusion, but I find I cannot be easy about my godmother's treatment of you at the assembly last night."

  Lord Westwick waved him to a seat and offered a glass of sherry. When the baronet refused, he seated himself in the opposite chair. His expression, however, was not particularly encouraging. "You are not responsible for your godmother's actions, Sir Hugh. Rosemarie was a willful girl, and I suspect she has become something of a tyrant as she grows older. I do not envy Miss Armstrong her position as companion."

  "Nor do I. It must be difficult indeed to accommodate one with such capricious whims and a general dislike of people."

  The earl nodded, but his expression remained guarded. "You have known Miss Longstreet most of your life, I dare say, though scarcely very well. A visit every year or so to Longstreet Manor perhaps?"

  "Exactly. And not at all for some years, as she seems to have taken me in aversion as well," Hugh added ruefully.

  Lord Westwick’s brows rose in surprise. "Has she? But it was not in evidence last evening."

  "No, since she's come to Bath, she has accorded me a modicum of cordiality—alongside her standard aspersions on everything and anything I try to do for her."

  The older man looked grave. "I don't believe she's ever been to Bath before. I was astonished to learn from your sister that she was here."

  "I find it odd myself."

  "Well, at least it will give Margaret’s daughter a chance to see a little more of the world. Poor thing, stuck up there in Westmorland with few prospects of meeting eligible gentlemen, and none of decent entertainment, given her situation with Rosemarie Longstreet. In the old days, Rosemarie was not so sharp-tongued and displeased with everything.”