by Carla Kelly
‘Stop squabbling, children. You make me feel old.’ Alex found he was incapable of denying that he loved Tess. Even a prevarication refused to pass his lips.
‘You are getting old,’ Maria countered. ‘And it is certainly time you married. Mama likes her.’
‘I am not yet thirty and it is not that simple.’ Alex pushed back his chair and retreated to the library. It was a retreat, a full-scale, cowardly rout, he admitted it, but he dare not risk meeting Tess before he had this settled.
He pulled the Peerage from the shelf again and sat studying it. There were no answers there; he had to rely on his own wits.
* * *
The clock was striking eleven before Garnett came into the room. ‘His lordship has just entered the study, my lord.’
‘Thank you.’ This was it, then. Alex remembered the duel again and decided that had, in retrospect, been considerably less nerve-racking than this.
The study door was closed, as always. A cliff face of polished oak, armoured with brass knobs, massive hinges. The great gate to the ogre’s fortress when he was a child and had stood here stiffening his nerve after the summons to yet another lecture on how inadequate, useless, unmanly and generally unsatisfactory he was as a Tempest.
Alex flung it open without knocking, then closed it behind him with a satisfying thud.
‘What in Hades?’ His father flung down his pen. ‘Damn it, Weybourn, I’ve made a blot! What’s wrong with knocking, might I ask?’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Something’s wrong.’
‘You owe me a life, Father.’ Alex made himself sit down in the great chair opposite the desk instead of leaning over and thumping his fist on the leather surface. He crossed his legs, smoothed a wrinkle out of his breeches. ‘We have skirted around this, but it is time to confront it. A young man died because of you. My friend. There is a debt to be paid and you are about to pay it.’
He had prepared himself for a temper tantrum of monumental proportions. Instead, his father picked up the pen from the blotter and stuck it into the inkwell. ‘That young woman, I suppose. Tell me. Tell me what you want.’
Alex resisted the urge to pinch himself. Apparently the reasonable tone was not an illusion and his father was actually prepared to listen. But this would be a negotiation and he would need all his skill. He took a long breath in through his nose, settled back in the chair and told his father what he knew about Tess and what he wanted the earl to do.
There was one explosion, a bellow of, ‘You want me to do what?’, a great deal of muttering and banging about, and then his father said, ‘Order the carriage and ring the bell for my valet. And tell your mother we will not be home for luncheon.’
The earl hauled himself to his feet with a grimace that Alex saw as he turned from the bell rope. Before he could think he found himself at his father’s side, his hand under the older man’s elbow. He had come to the house never thinking to touch his father again, certain that he hated him. Now he realised he was anxious, fearful for his father’s health. I care about him, he thought, confused by the rush of emotion.
‘Perhaps this is not the way to go about it. I will go by myself. You should rest, sir.’ His mother would never forgive him if he dragged his father out on a wintery journey and his precarious health suffered further as a result. ‘You could write a letter, perhaps.’
‘I’ll rest in my tomb,’ the earl snapped, even as he leaned his weight on Alex’s arm. ‘And I’ll see this matter sorted out before I do.’
* * *
Luncheon was served at one o’clock as usual. And as usual all the ladies were present. Matthew also appeared, explaining that if this was going to be the only hot meal of the day he would forgo his usual pie and tankard of ale down at the Moreland Arms.
Tess assumed Lord Moreland and Alex would take luncheon also, for the same reason, but there was no sign of them. Her hostess did not comment and finally she could bear it no longer. ‘I hope Lord Moreland was not too tired by the late night.’
‘No, not at all. He and Alexander have gone out, apparently.’ Lady Moreland sent Tess a disconcertingly straight look. ‘Did Alexander not tell you where he was going?’
‘I have not seen him since last night, after the service. And he said nothing then of going out this morning.’ For a moment she thought that Alex must have gone back to London, then she realised that his mother knew where he was, but, for some reason, was being mysterious about it.
‘Did he not?’ Lady Moreland. ‘No, I suppose he would not. He always was a secretive young man.’
‘I would have said self-contained rather than secretive,’ Tess said, more forcefully than she had intended. Lady Moreland’s eyebrows rose slightly. ‘But of course I have only known him as an adult.’
To judge by her faint smile Alex’s mother was more amused than irritated by Tess’s defence of her son.
Matthew removed his attention from a pile of lamb cutlets and potatoes. ‘I saw them drive off in the coach. Father was looking dashed serious.’
‘I hope Lord Weybourn returns before dinner time. His staff are expecting him to look in on their festivities below stairs.’ Tess chased a slice of carrot around her plate and wondered where her appetite had gone. Where Alex has gone, is more to the point. He is up to something.
She missed him, even though it was only hours since she had seen him. That was irrational because, if he was not there, then he was not breaking her heart with gallant attempts to offer her marriage or thoroughly ungallant offers of quite another kind.
The meal dragged to a close without any sign of the returning carriage. Lady Moreland rang for Garnett and dismissed the services of the staff once luncheon had been cleared and the cold collation set out for supper.
‘Maria, you and I must go and write letters. We have received so many with good wishes for the season I declare I am quite behind with my correspondence. Miss Ellery, I hope you and Mrs White will make free of the music room if you would like to play the pianoforte. Or there is a large selection of journals in the Blue Drawing Room. I gather you will be visiting the staff below stairs later?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Thank you, we will be well entertained, I am sure.’
Dorcas went upstairs to play with Daisy, releasing Annie to join the other staff, and Tess curled up in the window seat overlooking the drive and waited.
My heart demands it, he said last night. What did that mean? If he loved her, then he would have said so, surely? Please do not love me, she pleaded, leaning close to the window so that her breath fogged the cold glass and she had to rub at it with her hand in case it obscured the first glimpse of the returning carriage. It would be unbearable to leave him if he loved her, but she must. If he had been the younger son and willing to live out of society, a country squire as Matthew aspired to be, then perhaps it would be possible.
But Alexander Tempest, Viscount Weybourn, was not an obscure country squire and never would be.
* * *
‘Miss Ellery.’
Tess woke with a start to find Dorcas leaning over her. She had fallen asleep on the window seat, her forehead against the cold glass, which was probably why she had a headache. That and the dreams. Alex naked in her arms, Alex in ermine-trimmed robes and an earl’s coronet being dragged into the House of Lords while all the peers turned their back on her. Mother Superior explaining patiently, while Noel and Ophelia chased each other around her desk, why Tess must be thankful for even a menial position in a respectable household.
‘I have been having such muddling dreams. What time is it?’
‘Past three.’ Dorcas jiggled Daisy in her arms and the baby chuckled up at her. ‘I can hear fiddle music from below stairs.’
‘He isn’t back yet, is he?’ Of course not, she would know if Alex was in the house.
‘No.’ Dorcas did not have to ask who he was, it seemed. Was
she so very transparent? Tess could only hope Lady Moreland could not discern that Tess was head over heels in love with her eldest son.
* * *
The party downstairs was in full flow when she and Dorcas went down the back stairs, carrying the baskets of presents. As they entered the kitchen the Moreland staff fell silent at the sight of guests in their domain.
‘A Merry Christmas, everyone. Please excuse the intrusion, but Mrs White and I have gifts for Lord Weybourn’s staff.’
‘Of course, Miss Ellery.’ Garnett, almost unrecognisable out of livery and with a smile on his face, ushered them through to a second room. ‘They said that they were expecting his lordship, so we have made the servants’ hall available to them until after he has been down.’
‘His lordship appears to have been detained.’ Tess put a slight question into the statement, but the butler was too skilled to be taken in by a fishing expedition.
‘So it would appear, Miss Ellery. One trusts he will not be much longer as the light is fading fast.’
Tess was greeted with beaming smiles and a chorus of Christmas greetings. MacDonald played a flourish on his fiddle, then put it down. They all gazed at her expectantly.
‘I’m afraid Lord Weybourn had to go out today, unexpectedly.’ Unexpected for me, at least. ‘I know you will all be wanting to join the other staff here for your Christmas celebrations together, but I thought I ought to bring your gifts down in case his lordship is further delayed.’ She put her two baskets on the table and Dorcas added another beside them. ‘We’ll leave you to your festivities, and a very happy Christmas to you all.’
‘Won’t you stay Mrs...Miss Ellery?’ Annie said. ‘Hand the presents out, seeing as his lordship can’t?’
‘But they are from him and it isn’t my place—’
‘Reckon it is, Miss Ellery,’ MacDonald said. ‘You’re the lady of the house in London after all.’
‘But I was only acting as housekeeper while Mrs Semple was unwell...’ she began. How could they imagine for a moment that she thought of herself as anything else? Dreams, yes, but no one could be blamed for their dreams.
‘That’s not what I mean, ma’am.’ MacDonald pulled out a chair while she gaped at him. ‘Here, Miss Ellery, why don’t you sit by the fire?’
‘I... Thank you, MacDonald.’ To even protest at his words would draw attention to them. ‘Lord Weybourn chose all the gifts,’ she added as she lifted the first from the basket.
‘All by himself, Miss Ellery?’ someone called.
‘Mostly by himself.’ She found she could join in the laughter and, gradually, as the presents were handed out and greeted with exclamations of surprise and pleasure, she relaxed. But there was a sadness in it, too. These were her people in so many ways, and she was going to miss them, miss their warmth and kindness, their loyalty and humour.
Annie looked as though she had grown two inches, she was so much the confident nursery maid, and the other staff seemed more knitted together, almost a family.
I helped with that, Tess thought and swallowed a tear as MacDonald began humming an air from the new sheet music and Phipps picked up the tune on his flute.
‘Miss Ellery.’ What had come first—the prickle of awareness at the nape of her neck or the sound of Alex’s voice?
‘Lord Weybourn.’ She was on her feet, turning, finding a smile that was merely polite and not a betrayal of what was in her heart. ‘I hope you do not mind, but we did not know when you would return.’
Alex looked...strange. Then she realised he was radiating tension, although there was a smile on his lips for his cheerful staff. ‘I apologise, everyone. I should have been here to wish you the very best for the season, but I had an unavoidable visit to make.’
He wanted to leave, she could tell, although she doubted anyone else did as they clustered around, thanking him for their gifts, pressing him to take a slice of plum pudding, a sugared almond. Annie wanted to tell him about Ophelia, Noel emerged from the safety of his basket to wind himself around his boots and all the time he smiled and laughed and teased while his long body seemed rigid with the desire to be gone.
Tess began to watch the clock. Five minutes, ten. Finally, after quarter of an hour Alex said, ‘Miss Ellery, I am sorry to drag you away from this delightful party, but I am afraid you are needed upstairs.’
‘Of course. Thank you, everyone, the pudding was delicious. Have a wonderful evening.’ She smiled and laughed at their rejoinders and rescued Noel from under Alex’s boots. She promised to take Ophelia for a walk the next day and followed Alex out, through a maze of corridors and up the back stairs to the hall.
‘Thank you for distributing the gifts.’ He sounded stilted, probably with annoyance.
‘I am sorry if I presumed, but—’
‘Presumed? Don’t be so foolish, Tess.’ It was definitely a snap and not in the slightest bit reassuring.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked after a moment. Apparently he had not marched her upstairs to reprove her for usurping his place with the staff in that little ceremony, but now they were in the draughty hall Alex seemed frozen in place.
‘We have guests I would like you to meet.’ He took her arm and made for the front salon. The grip was verging on the uncomfortable; his face was set. Tess almost tripped over her feet keeping up with him. At the door Alex stopped abruptly, looked down at her, then stooped and kissed her hard and fast. ‘Forgive me, Tess.’
He opened the door and swept her in while she was still gasping and flustered from the kiss.
The occupants of the room were grouped around the hearth. Lady Moreland sat on one sofa flanked by an elderly man and a middle-aged one. Two ladies sat on the opposite sofa with a young lady of about Tess’s age between them. Lord Moreland stood in the centre, his back to the fire. He looked as though he had been interrupted in mid-speech. The others all turned at the sound of the door closing and the two other men rose to their feet.
No one smiled, although their eyes seemed fixed on her.
Then Lady Moreland held out her hand. ‘Miss Ellery, do come in.’
Alex’s hand released its grip and moved to cup her elbow, guiding her across the deep pile of the carpet towards the fireplace. It felt like walking through sand in a dream. Perhaps this was a dream.
Then the nearest woman moved abruptly. Tess looked directly at her and the floor seemed to shift beneath her feet. ‘Mama!’
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘I do not faint.’ Tess heard her own voice, weak but indignant, and managed to open her eyes.
‘You had a shock, my dear, that is all.’ Lady Moreland’s face, thin, concerned, swam into focus above her.
‘I need to sit up.’
‘Is that wise?’ Another female voice, unfamiliar.
‘Yes. I want Alex... I mean, where is Lord Weybourn?’
‘I am here, Tess.’ His mother moved aside and Alex appeared in her place. ‘Let me put a cushion behind you.’
She managed to sit up, her gaze fixed on his face. ‘I thought I saw... I am seeing things. Ghosts.’
‘No, not a ghost. You saw your aunt’s eldest daughter. I think your cousin, Lady Wilmslow, must be about the age your mother was when she died. Apparently there is a strong resemblance.’
Oh. So I am not going mad, I am not seeing things. Oh, Mama, I wish it had been you. Then the implication of Alex’s words penetrated her spinning thoughts. ‘My aunt? My cousin? Here?’
‘To meet you, yes.’ Alex straightened up and stepped back.
There was a moment of hesitation, then the three ladies came forward, the youngest dropping to her knees beside Tess. ‘I am your second cousin Charlotte. I am so pleased to meet you! I’ve been wanting to know all about my scandalous Cousin Jane and no one would tell me anything.’ She sat back on her heels, bl
onde ringlets bouncing, and beamed at Tess. ‘We’re muddling you—are we a great surprise?’
‘A...shock,’ Tess confessed. She swung her feet down from the sofa and sat up. The room shifted queasily.
One of the older women came and perched by her feet, the other—the one who looked like Mama—stood with her hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. ‘My dear Teresa. Did Lord Weybourn not warn you?’
Tess shook her head, looked round for Alex. He was standing with his father, both of them withdrawn from the group around Tess. He was watching her intently. ‘I do not know what to say. My aunt told me that the family wanted nothing to do with either of us.’
There was an uneasy silence. The three women all looked at the elderly man who was still on his feet. He stared at Tess from under beetling grey brows. Lord Moreland cleared his throat and the stranger shot him a fierce glare. ‘Don’t you presume to prompt me, Moreland. I’ll make up my own mind. She looks like a lady, I’ll say that, not a chit born in sin and raised by a Papist.’
Tess’s confusion cleared, leaving her oddly calm and very, very angry. With everyone. She got to her feet, ignoring agitated sounds from her female cousins. ‘Are you my grandfather, sir?’
‘I am Sethcombe. This is your younger uncle, Lord Withrend.’
Tess straightened her back, lifted her chin and took a deep breath. I will not break down. I will not scream at him. ‘My mother intended to make a legal marriage. If she was not in full possession of the facts, then you, my lord, must take responsibility for not advising her of them. As for my aunt, she was a good woman who followed her conscience and was true to her faith. I was raised as a gentlewoman and that is all I lay claim to. I most certainly have no wish to lay claim to a relationship with you, my lord.’ She turned and dropped a slight curtsy to Lady Moreland. ‘I apologise, my lady, for any embarrassment I may have caused. I had no idea who your neighbours were until after I entered this house.
‘I will retire to my room now and I would be most grateful if you would allow me a carriage to take me to the nearest stagecoach halt in the morning.’
