“It means cutting a thinning sheet down the middle and resewing the thicker, outer parts together,” Merton said with a little smile. “It makes the sheets last longer.”
“You are a fount of knowledge, Merton,” Carrbridge said. “It sounds somewhat less horrid than I had supposed. Still, I will not have Miss Frost doing such a thing, and she must have a carriage and a lady’s maid and all the other necessities of life for the sister-in-law of a marquess, and you must not argue about it, Monty, or talk to me about this wager between Humphrey and Gus, for I will put a stop to all that nonsense, and so I tell you. Merton has explained to me how much you will need to live properly, as a gentleman, and when you have the living at Mishcombe you will be very well set up, but until then, you will have an allowance from me, and that is an end to it.”
“Heavens, Carrbridge, how imperious you are getting,” Monty said mildly, amused. “It shall be as you wish, although I daresay I shall not spend the half of it.”
“Then you may set it aside to settle on your wife, or on your children,” Merton said.
“Excellent idea,” Carrbridge said. “So you see, Monty, although I am not at all reconciled to you marrying this girl, for where would we all be if one married a girl just because one felt sorry for her, you will not find me creating obstacles.”
“But can you afford it?” Monty said, frowning. “Only last winter we were practically reduced to turning sheets ourselves, or so it seemed. Yet now you think nothing of splashing money around. I heard Connie talking about her new orangery only the other day.”
Carrbridge looked smug. “Everything is looking much better, thankfully. Merton has found all these properties that Sharp was hiding from me, and if ever I get my hands on him, I will set the constables on him, I swear it. An agent is supposed to be working on my behalf, and not lining his own pockets and living like a lord at my expense. Heaven only knows how much he has taken from me over the years.”
Monty smiled. “Only heaven may know, but I am sure Mr Merton has a rough idea too.”
Merton’s face for once creased into a smile of genuine amusement. “Naturally I do. Two hundred thousand pounds in all, as a very loose estimate.”
“Good God!” Monty said, appalled. “And how much of that may be recovered?”
“Some. The properties, if we can find proof of ownership. Some money has already been found, but there is much still missing. We have found several banks where money was deposited from rentals and so forth, but most were emptied. Mr Sharp tried in vain to retrieve money stored in a hidden safe in his house here. However, there may be other safes in other houses. But with what has been recovered so far, and some improved management of his estates, his lordship’s income has more than doubled.”
“You are a miracle worker, Merton,” Carrbridge said.
“No miracle, my lord, merely close examination of documents. Much may be achieved, merely by arranging papers in order and scrutinising them methodically.”
“You make it sound so easy, Merton, as if anyone may do such a thing, yet I could not. No, no, do not tell me that indeed I could, if I set my mind to it, for I am perfectly sure that I could not. But you see how it is, Monty. My income is increased, and with Reggie, Humphrey and Gus all settled independently, my expenses are greatly reduced as well, so I can well afford to increase your allowance to honour your married state. Have you fixed a date for the wedding yet, or is it too soon to be thought of?”
Monty grunted. “Miss Frost is very keen to marry quickly. Surprisingly keen. A special licence was talked of.”
“I do not like the sound of that,” Carrbridge said, with a frown. “Merton, what is your opinion?”
Merton brushed an imaginary speck of dirt from one immaculately-clad leg. “A lady who betroths herself to a stranger and wishes to marry at once may be suspected of harbouring a secret,” he said carefully. “Such secrets tend to result in the unexpectedly early arrival of the first child of the marriage. Are you prepared for such an eventuality, my lord?”
The same thought had occurred to Monty, too. “I should not mind it,” he said. “My purpose in offering for Miss Frost, after all, was in part to rescue a lady in need of help, and such a situation would only make me pity her the more. It would be better, however, if she were to tell me of her trouble, whatever it is. I have no wish to insist, but there is something amiss that frightens her, and it concerns me that she will not confide in me. Merton…” He hesitated, not sure if he wanted an answer to the question he was about to ask.
“You wish to know if I uncovered anything suspect in her background? You may be easy, my lord, for I have not. In fact, I have not discovered anything at all about her. I have written to several of the eighth marquess’s close friends enquiring after a Thomas Frost, and no one remembers anyone by that name. The only Thomas anyone can recall moving in the late Lord Carrbridge’s circle was the Earl of Bentley. The two were at school together, and were such old friends that they called each other by their Christian names.”
“I do not know Bentley at all,” Carrbridge mused. “He is seldom in town, I think.”
“There have been money difficulties, I believe,” Merton said. “The earl sold a couple of minor estates last year. His main estate is in Hampshire, near Winchester.”
“Winchester…” Monty said thoughtfully.
“Does that mean something to you, my lord?” Merton said.
“Just something Miss Frost mentioned. But there can be no connection. The letter was written to Thomas Frost, not Thomas, Earl of Bentley.”
Merton coughed discreetly. “Forgive me, my lord, but that is not quite true. The salutation was simply to ‘Thomas’, there is no mention of Frost, or any family name.”
“But it mentions Melissa,” Monty said sharply. “And it was given to her by the woman who raised her, then it must be—” He broke off, seeing all the inconsistencies of it. “You have a copy of the letter, Merton?”
Merton nodded and retrieved a paper from a drawer in the large desk.
‘My dear Thomas, What fools we are! We both drank far too much of Dunmorton’s claret last night, but we must make the best of it, and do right by the girl, for I am sure you did not mean all that you said. It is surely best that you keep her for now, so that she grows up amongst her family, and when she is old enough to be in society then she may come to Drummoor. And you need have no fears or cause to regret your actions, for here is my pledge to you, my old friend: when they are both old enough and wise enough, your daughter, Melissa, shall marry my son, the Earl of Deveron, and no one shall say we did a bad thing last night. I go north tomorrow, but we shall meet again soon. My regards to R, and do not let C forget me, or I shall be most disappointed. I hope the play fulfils all your expectations. Charles.’
Monty read it twice, once assuming it was written to Thomas Frost, and once as if it were Lord Bentley. “It is not entirely clear,” he said at last. “This Earl of Bentley — does he have a daughter called Melissa?”
“No. He has several daughters, but none called Melissa,” Merton said promptly, tapping one finger on the opened copy of Debrett’s Peerage on the desk in front of him. “I have already looked him up. And the family name is Brockenhurst, not Frost.”
Monty scanned the page, and then, more carefully, looking for any sign of a connection to Melissa, but there was none. Three wives — Anne, Emilia and Patience. Four daughters — Emily, Alice, Charlotte and Delia. No Melissa anywhere to be found.
“Then it must be intended for Thomas Frost, and refer to Miss Frost,” Monty said firmly. Merton nodded politely, but Monty had the unnerving conviction that he was not persuaded. “Dunmorton… Would that be the present Duke of Dunmorton, or his father?”
Merton reached for Debrett’s and thumbed through it. “The present one.” He looked up thoughtfully. “I wonder if Lord Augustus might ask him? His grace might remember more of those times than some of the others.”
“I shall write to Gus myself,” Monty said. �
��I do not feel that Miss Frost is concealing anything material, but I should like to know something of her father, if only for the notice in the paper.”
~~~~~
Melissa found another new gown laid out for her that evening, the silk so feather-light it rippled under her fingers like water. She sighed with pleasure.
“Lady Carrbridge is so kind to me,” she said to Margaret, her maid.
“That one came from Lady Harriet,” Margaret said with a smile. “From Miss Kelly’s seamstresses, she said.”
“Oh. But this is beautiful. I had no idea they made anything like this. I imagined… worsted or fustian, or something of the sort, not this delicate silk, and so elegant.”
“Lady Harriet said that it’s very plain at the moment, but suitable for you. When you marry, she said, you can add a coloured tunic over the top and a matching bandeau, and it will be very stylish. So she said, miss, and I’m sure she’s right.”
“I am sure she is,” Melissa said, striking poses before the long glass. “Will you get out the garnets for me, Margaret?”
“Not tonight, miss. Lord Montague’s man came to tell me that his lordship will be…” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, although they were quite alone. “…bringing you some jewellery.”
“Oh.” Melissa blushed, although she was not quite sure why. If her betrothed wished to bring her jewellery, why should that be in any way awkward?
Sure enough, just as Margaret was finishing her hair, there came a timid knock on the door, and Monty’s face appeared around it, looking rather conscious.
“May I come in? Or should I wait outside?” he said shyly, then, catching sight of her, “Oh, Melissa, you look lovely.”
What lady could resist such a spontaneous compliment? Certainly not Melissa, who had never been complimented in her life before she had come to Drummoor. She jumped up excitedly, and raced towards the door in a most unladylike manner.
“Oh, Monty, you say the most charming things!”
He smiled, but lowered his head self-consciously. “I… I have some of my mother’s jewellery. If you would like to have it. Connie helped me choose, but if you do not like it…”
“I am sure I shall,” she said hastily.
“Here.” He put a wooden box on her dressing table. “There are some lovely pieces in here,” he said, opening the box, and pulling out a shimmering diamond necklace. “There are ear drops somewhere in here too. This is by way of celebration, since Carrbridge is insisting on increasing my allowance, so we need not scrimp and use tallow candles and turn sheets after all.”
The diamonds dripped from his fingers like sparkling rain, shimmering and dancing in the candlelight. Melissa’s eyes were wide. She was so close to tears that she could not speak.
Monty must have noticed her silence. “Do you not like it? I can find you something else if—”
“Oh, no, no! It is…” She stopped, overwhelmed.
Monty looked at her, then said, “Margaret, will you leave us for a moment?” When the door had closed behind her, he said softly, “Are you all right? You may speak freely… I shall not be hurt or angry or anything of the sort.”
“No one ever gave me jewellery before,” she blurted, and then the tears came, and she could not stop them. His arms wrapped themselves round her tightly, and she buried her face in his shoulder.
“Hush now,” he murmured. “There, there. Hush…”
So comforting, to rest in his arms. She felt so safe, so protected. But she was not safe at all, not yet. Not until they were married. She had to marry him at once, for only then would she begin to feel that she had escaped. Lord Bentley could arrive at any moment…
With a great sob, she pushed him away. “Oh, how I wish—!”
“What do you wish?” he said softly, his face so open, so guileless, so innocent.
“I wish we could marry tomorrow! I hate this waiting, Monty. I feel I am caught in the middle, neither spinster nor wife. Please will you get a licence so we can marry at once?”
Monty stepped back, frowning. “It is better not to.”
“Why is it better? It is not better for me! Oh, you are a hateful man! Go away and take your mother’s jewellery with you, for you are just showering me with gifts so that I will be quiet and not pester you any more.”
He was incapable of concealing his hurt. “I beg your pardon if I have offended you, Miss Frost. I will leave the jewellery box there, for Connie would be distressed if you reject her choices altogether.”
“Will you get a licence?”
A long silence, then, “Only if you will tell me everything about yourself and your family, without prevarication.”
With a cry of frustration, she balled her fists and thumped his chest, pushing him away. “What, must I talk about my nursemaids and the time I fell in the pond and had to be dragged out by my hair? Or the Italian tutor who spoke with a lisp? You want every detail of my life? It is gone, Monty, gone for ever and there is nothing I care to remember. Do not make me remember.”
“Very well,” he said, and there was a dead tone in his voice that chilled her to the bone. “But in that case, I cannot agree to a licence. We will have the banns called, and be married in three weeks, and you must contain your impatience until then.”
And so saying, he swept out of the room.
10: Of Marriage
Monty was horribly unsettled by this exchange. One minute Melissa was in tears, quite overcome because he was the first person ever to give her jewellery, then next she was spitting at him to marry her immediately. What could it possibly mean? And how was he to live with such a person? His mind was in turmoil.
How he longed to oblige her. He could be at York tomorrow, get a common licence, and be back before dinner, then they could be married the day after, and he would have his wife — he paused here, his breath catching at the thought of it. A wife! A gentle companion to warm his heart, and bring him comfort. He quailed a little at this point, wondering whether fiery Melissa was an aberration, brought on by the uncertainty of her situation, who would vanish for all time once she was safely wed, or whether that was a glimpse of her true nature. For it would not enhance his comfort to face little scenes like that on a daily basis. No, surely she would settle once they were married. In two days, if he were to yield. In two days he would have his wife, and she would have… whatever it was she needed so badly.
Yet what could that be? It puzzled him as he made his way down to the drawing room, and it puzzled him as he stood in a corner of the room, not in the least mindful of what was going on around him. It was only when Harriet touched him on the arm and spoke to him that he was recalled to an awareness of where he was.
“She looks well, does she not? All the work of Bridget’s girls.”
“What? Oh, Miss Frost?” He had not even noticed her enter the room, but now he realised that she must have been there for some time, for she had already made her greetings to Carrbridge and Connie, had moved past the aunts who sat in a line near the fire, and was smiling shyly at some joke of Uncle Lucius’, who was at his station near the decanters. “She does look well, it is true.”
“Do not sound so surprised! She is a pretty little thing, and it is a pleasure to dress her. You were miles away! Planning your first sermon for Kirby Grosswick, I daresay. When is it to be?”
“Next Sunday,” he said absently, realising that he had been so distracted by Melissa that he had not given his sermon a single thought. That would never do! The first preaching of his career as a proper clergyman must be something special, something the villagers would remember for a long time. Something inspiring and uplifting, while yet reminding the parishioners of the need to work hard and avoid sin. It was hard to be uplifting while talking about sin. He must—
“Just remember the golden rule of sermons,” Harriet whispered.
“What is that?”
“Keep it short!”
Monty smiled and shook his head affectionately at her levity. He li
ked Hatty very much, despite her sometimes frivolous nature. She was a reassuring and constant presence in his life. Which was odd in itself, now that he thought about it.
“Hatty, why did you never marry? For you must have had offers enough.”
“Oh, I had offers,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Some of them very ardently expressed. But I never needed to marry, Monty. Grandfather’s provisions left me very well established — a house of my own, and enough money to be independent. What would a man add to that?”
Monty raised his eyebrows. “Children, perhaps? Rank? A grander home than Westbury House? Companionship? Love?”
“Love…” She pondered the word, almost as if she had never heard it before. “Perhaps love would do it, but I have never had the misfortune to fall in love, you see. And without that, I cannot see a reason why I should surrender my independence, and put myself into the power of a man, who would take all my fortune for his own and give me pin money in exchange. And then the constant production of children, and the associated risks. Of my five greatest friends from my coming out season, two are dead, and another is so worn down she is a shadow of her former self. Monty, women marry because they have to, because they have nothing of their own and they must be subservient to a father or brother or husband all their lives, and at least with a husband they will have an establishment of their own, and be mistress of the house, with all the respectability that entails. And some of them are happy enough, I daresay. But I never met a man yet who could tempt me to marry. I daresay I shall die a dried-up old spinster like Aunt Ruth or Aunt Hester. Ah, here is Crabbe. Dinner at last. I am so hungry! I hope there is goose tonight. I am so fond of a stuffed goose.”
Monty was too slow to take Miss Frost into dinner, and had to watch her talking animatedly to Uncle Lucius. There was no doubt that she looked very well this evening. The gown was very plain, but that only emphasised her abundant charms, and she had, after all, chosen to wear the diamond necklace. That pleased him inordinately. Despite her passionate outburst, common sense had reasserted itself and now she was as composed as he had ever seen her. And how had Uncle Lucius managed to coax such lively conversation from her? Monty had never seen her so chatty in company.
Lord Montague Page 9
