Grenville 02 - Lord John's Dilemma

by G. G. Vandagriff

  Delia could not bear to think about the man, for every time she did so, humiliation overcame her. How absurd she must have looked, casting about in four feet of water! And she could not forget the relief and safety she had felt at being held securely next to his chest.

  To calm her fidgets, she decided to write Permelia, her closest friend, who lived next to Delia’s home in Dorset. After giving an account of her arrival and the details concerning her charges, she made a humorous business of Major Lambeth’s two rescues. She finished the letter off with a warning: “Do not get any ideas concerning a romance between the major and me. He is courting the elder Miss Lindsay and next to her, I am a plain little thing. I do hope he will see through her complete self-absorption before it is too late. She is not at all the type of wife who will make him happy. If I am not mistaken, he suffers from melancholy. He has the most expressive eyes, and I can read it there as well as in his voice.”

  She asked for news of her uncle and closed with her new direction and the caution to write to Miss Delia Haverley rather than Lady Cordelia Frensham.

  At eleven p.m., she still could not sleep. Frustrated, she drew on a shawl and climbed down the servants’ stairs and found her way out to the terrace. Was John flirting with Miss Lindsay? Most certainly. Cordelia loved to dance, but tonight she would be satisfied looking at the vastness of the heavens. Were her dear parents watching down on her from somewhere in those heavens? What would they think of Major Lambeth? What would they think of her standing not only on the sidelines, but home and wandering about this silly pond? She shook her head and wandered back inside.

  The following day, she was determined that Molly and Mariah should be made to learn something that would be of use to them in their later lives. She had had an excellent governess herself and particularly loved the subject of history.

  When they met in the schoolroom two mornings after their outing on the lake, she was prepared to teach them about Napoleon.

  “Today we are going to learn about the war that Major Lambeth has been fighting for the last four years. You are going to meet many young men after your come-outs who will have fought in Spain and Portugal and maybe even Waterloo.”

  “But Mama says it is not proper for young ladies to speak about the war. I heard her warning Marianne at tea yesterday.”

  “Speaking about it and understanding it are two different things,” Delia told them. “War changes men. I believe it is important for you to understand that.”

  “Well, I do not,” Molly said. “I cannot think of anything more boring!”

  “I have a much better idea,” Mariah said. “I should like to learn to sketch. Can we not go outdoors today and sketch the lake and the folly? It is such a fine day.”

  Delia sighed. She had sketched when she was younger, but did not count it among her greater accomplishments. She much preferred watercolors. However, it transpired that the girls had no painting supplies, so that was not an alternative.

  “Very well.” Delia searched through the schoolroom cupboards. “I see that you have charcoal here and some sketchpads.”

  “They are Marianne’s. But she left them behind here. She is not interested in sketching now that she is out.”

  “If we go outdoors, you must promise that you will take your parasols. And we will sketch from somewhere in the shade.”

  The two sisters agreed readily, and soon they were out in the back garden, setting up their portable easels under the shade of a leafy old oak. Delia commenced teaching them about perspective.

  The time passed agreeably as both girls seemed genuinely interested in their artwork. Delia sat a bit away from them and, uninterested in the static scene before her, she began to sketch her beloved brother’s face from memory. Though Gerald had been away fighting on the Peninsula since the time she was thirteen, she missed knowing her sibling was alive somewhere in the world. During his school holidays, they had enjoyed their time together, principally because she had been happy to play soldiers with him on the nursery floor. In fact, she had been happy to do anything with him. She had adored her brother. They had corresponded as regularly as his military exploits would allow.

  He would be horrified at how her uncle had treated her. Were her brother Gerald alive, she would be home in Dorset, acting as his hostess. Perhaps some of his friends from Eton and Oxford would come to stay and they would have house parties…

  Delia chided herself. It was useless to pretend things were other than they were. One day, life would be good again.

  “A secret lover, perhaps?”

  Startled, she looked up to see that Major Lambeth had appeared over her shoulder and was looking at her sketch.

  “From where have you sprung, Major?” she asked, steadying her voice with an effort.

  “The Lindsays’ park adjoins ours. I often walk this way to admire Lady Lindsay’s flower garden.”

  Delia could not believe that a campaign-hardened soldier would have a taste for flowers. He must have come to pay a call on Miss Lindsay.

  “You have not answered my question,” he said.

  “It is a very poor sketch of my brother,” she said, closing her sketchbook.

  Molly and Mariah could not be expected to stay at their task when their hero had suddenly appeared.

  “Oh, Lord John!” Molly squealed. “Do come look! I have just sketched the sweetest picture.”

  Strolling over to where the girls were sketching, he admired their work. “A very nice likeness of a giraffe,” he told her. Delia was glad to hear this evidence of humor and thought suddenly that Mariah had described his voice very well when she had referred to it as “handsome.”

  “Silly!” she said. “It is the folly!”

  “Oh, do escort us on a walk,” Mariah pleaded. “This silly charcoal will not do what I wish it to do.” So saying, the girl threw it down.

  “Where should we go?” he asked.

  “We could take Nellie for a swim. She is our Irish Water Spaniel. She likes the stream better than the lake. Mama makes us keep her in the barn unless she is on leash because she jumps on people. But it is so hot, she must be baking today!” Mariah said.

  “I have a great fondness for Water Spaniels, as a matter of fact. Have you made the acquaintance of Nellie, Miss Haverley?” He had one dark eyebrow raised and a half-smile on his face.

  “We assure ourselves of her well-being daily,” she said drily. “I am happy to see you no longer require your sling, Major.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Miss Haverley. By all means, let us take Nellie for a swim,” he said.

  “Remember your parasols, Molly and Mariah,” she said, opening her own.

  Nellie began yipping before they were halfway to the barn, evidently scenting her saviors. To Delia’s chagrin, the girls broke into a run.

  “They love their dog,” she said, shaking her head.

  “I do not see Lady Lindsay anywhere around,” the major replied, scanning the environment. “Let them enjoy themselves. They have too many years ahead of them when they shall have to be proper.”

  “That is a marvelous piece of insight, coming from a man,” Delia said.

  “Thank you.”

  Once Molly had the frisky brown spaniel on his lead, she took the major’s arm with her available hand and Mariah took his other. This left Delia to walk behind. Everyone else’s legs were longer than hers, so she quickened her pace. The sun was warm today, even in the forest as its rays slanted through the trees. The birds chattered loudly all around them, and she particularly enjoyed the pungent smell of the evergreens that Lord Lindsay had planted along the path by the stream. She heard the girls giggling in front of her and noticed that they had left their parasols behind.

  When they reached the stream, Molly and Mariah let go of the major and took Nellie off her lead. They ran ahead to a boulder by the side of the stream to watch her antics as she entered the water. She barked and paddled toward them. The girls shrieked as Nellie splashed them in her enthusiasm.
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  “Beautiful dog,” said the major. “Do you know if they intend to breed her?”

  Delia judged his interest to be genuine. “I think there has been some talk of it. Are you looking for a dog?”

  “Indeed. I think Nellie’s offspring would make admirable hunters.”

  Delia spun her parasol. “It has been too long since I’ve been hunting,” she mused.

  “I thought you had an excellent seat on a horse. Did you hunt with your brother?”

  “With my whole family. My mother was an excellent huntress.”

  “Have you no family left?” he inquired gently.

  Delia realized she had opened a forbidden subject. “Oh yes,” she said lightly. “Plenty of relations! Molly, Mariah, do move off that boulder! You are getting very wet!”

  “It feels good!” Mariah said with a squeal. But the girls reluctantly obeyed.

  “Come, Nellie! Let us go find a stick!” cried Molly.

  Nellie leapt out of the stream and shook herself vigorously to the sound of more girlish squeals. Then the three took off to look for a suitable stick in the forest.

  “Oh to be that young and carefree,” said the major. He was looking at her as he squinted in the sunlight. “But I imagine they are a challenge for a governess.”

  “They do rather reject the traditional curriculum for young ladies,” said Delia, finding a dry spot to sit on the deserted boulder.

  “So no French or music or embroidery?”

  “None. Which leads me to believe that I will be blamed for their hoydenish ways if I am here long enough.” A woodpecker sounded in a nearby tree. “Right now, my main occupation is meant to be keeping them out of the way, I think.” Feeling his eyes on her, she traced a pattern on the boulder with her finger. “I try to insist that they learn something, but they are so artless and fun-loving, and, as you noted, they have so many years ahead of them to be well-mannered females. It is very hard to curb their enjoyment.”

  She looked up and found Major Lambeth’s sun-weathered face creased in the first real smile she had seen. Her heart sped up and the stream suddenly seemed to sparkle as though it were strewn with diamonds in the sunlight.

  “Is being a well-mannered female as much a bore as I imagine it to be?” he asked.

  Delia bit her bottom lip in an effort not to grin. “A dead bore,” she said finally. “When I was Mariah’s age, my brother and I had a fort in the woods. We played Red Indians, pioneers, Colonial Wars…”

  “Was he not at school?” He took a seat beside her on the boulder and began stripping a twig. She felt the warmth of his closeness through her thin muslin gown. An unfamiliar tension thrummed through her.

  “Yes. But he always came home for the long vacation. I lived for summertime.” Visions of those halcyon days caused her to relax slightly.

  “You had no governess?”

  “Papa arranged for her to have her vacations when Gerald had his. Until he went up to Oxford.” She sighed. “Then it was Miss Wilder all year ‘round. Plenty of time to learn dancing and watercolors.”

  Delia stood up. “Now where have those girls got to?”

  “I will go,” he said.

  “We shall go together,” she said. “They are my responsibility. What games did you play as a child, Major?” Just talking to him about the secret worlds of their childhoods gave her a feeling of well-being. As they stood, he took her arm to guide her.

  “My mother taught me at home until I was ten. But I grew up mostly in London, so my adventures were between the covers of the books she wrote and illustrated. I did not know what I was missing, but should I have children, I would like to give them the country childhood you had.”

  There is a happy little boy inside all that melancholy. There is hope for him, I think.

  At that moment, they heard a cry. Delia’s heart leapt. “Oh my gracious! What now?” She began moving at a quickened pace through the woods at her left. The major’s long stride took him ahead.

  She came to a small clearing where Mariah had evidently stepped into a rabbit hole.

  “Are you hurt, my dear?” Delia asked.

  “I twisted my ankle,” the girl said. A stack of sticks lay between her and Molly, who was looking at her sister with concern. Nellie was frisking about, whimpering.

  “Hold on,” said the major. He knelt upon the carpet of last autumn’s leaves and examined the problem. Then he put his large hand down the hole and brought the foot out gently. “Sit down, Mariah, so I can examine it.”

  He rotated her foot slowly and the girl drew in a hiss of breath. “Ouch.”

  “Never mind,” he said. “It is not serious. Nothing is broken.”

  “Mama is going to be angry,” Mariah said mournfully.

  “Come. I shall carry you back.” He slung her up, cradling her in his arms.

  “But your arm!” protested Delia.

  “It is well enough. Mariah weighs next to nothing. Let us be on our way.”

  Fortunately, Lady Lindsay was not about. Miss Lindsay and Leticia were sitting in a shady corner of the terrace, embroidering.

  “Lord John!” Miss Lindsay cried, standing at their appearance. “I had no idea you were here. What has happened to Mariah?”

  “I stepped in a rabbit hole is all,” said her sister.

  “She’ll be right as rain if she stays off of it,” said the major. “Is your mother about?”

  Leticia said, “She has gone calling, fortunately. I will go get some linen bandages and we can wrap it up.”

  “Miss Haverley!” cried Miss Lindsay in a good imitation of her mother’s disdain. “How could you let this happen?”

  “She could hardly have prevented it,” said Molly. “The hole is an old one. It was covered with dead leaves.”

  “But what were you doing in the woods?” asked Miss Lindsay.

  “We were taking Nellie for a swim,” said the major reasonably. “I shall take the dog back to the barn now.”

  “Molly can do it,” said Miss Lindsay. “I imagine you are dying of thirst.” She looked up at the major and her displeasure seemed to dissolve. “You would probably like some lemonade.”

  “I shall see to it,” said Delia.

  Not wanting to irritate Miss Lindsay further, she entered the house and found Mrs. Daniels. She requested that lemonade be carried out to the group on the terrace. Then she disappeared into the library, where she intended to busy herself looking up some Blake and Wordsworth to read to Mariah while her ankle healed.

  The library window looked out onto the terrace. Standing back and to the side so she was shielded by the fall of the drapes, she could see the major towering above Marianne, smiling one of his rare smiles as she entertained him with some witticism.

  It appeared that Miss Lindsay was a talented flirt. She would never bore the man with tales of her childhood. When the major looked at her, he would see a desirable woman, not a plain little governess.

  Delia straightened her back. Was she pitying herself? How silly she was.

  I am not a plain little governess. It is only the role I am playing. But how is Major John Lambeth to know that?

  As she turned away from the window, she wished he could see her in her finery just once.

  { 7 }

  Miss Lindsay was teasing John about his fondness for her sisters. “They are sadly lacking in discipline. Miss Haverley is not nearly stern enough with them.”

  “Did you have a terribly stern governess?” he asked.

  “She was a monster!” Miss Lindsay said, laughing. “I had to walk about with a book on my head and my fingers were raw from pricking them with my embroidery needle.”

  Leticia returned with the bandage and began to bind Mariah’s ankle. “If I were you, Missy,” she said to her sister, “I would hobble upstairs to your room and pretend to be reading a good book so Mama does not find out what you have been up to. Otherwise you may lose another governess, and Miss Haverley does not deserve to be punished for your sins!”

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nbsp; John agreed with those sentiments. He had a feeling that whatever had brought Miss Haverley down in the world, she was reliving her happy childhood through Molly and Mariah.

  “Miss Haverley is not at fault,” he said. “I wanted to meet Nellie and take her for a swim. Was she to override the wishes of a Lord of the Realm?”

  Mrs. Daniels came onto the terrace with a large pitcher of lemonade. Miss Lindsay immediately poured out a glass for him. “You are too charming for your own good,” she said, raising an eyebrow as a smile played about her mouth. “But I am glad to see your spirits reviving.”

  John realized she was right. He did feel better than he had in a long time. The Lindsay girls were obviously good medicine. And he had gathered more clues in the incidental mystery of Miss Haverley. She had lost both parents as well as her brother, he was quite sure. The jewels were obviously her inheritance. If they had kept a stable full of hunters, the family must have been quite well off. What had happened in the meantime?

  It occurred to him that Lieutenant Tompkins, who had served under him, was from Kent. Perhaps he knew the Haverley name. He was exceptionally well connected. John decided he would send an enquiry. The mystery grew increasingly intriguing. The woman was obviously not cut out to be a governess.

  As he was relaxing with his lemonade, Miss Lindsay asked, “Have you been invited to the Hetheringtons’ fête? It is to raise money for a new church roof.”

  “Who are the Hetheringtons?” he asked.

  “I forget, you did not live here much as a child. They live at the north end of the County. They are my parents’ age and have sons the same ages as all of us. It will be rather provincial, but should be fun. There is a ball afterward in the evening. I am certain your brother has had an invitation.”

  John took a deep breath. If he was going to start courting Miss Lindsay, he should be about it. This fête offered a good opportunity. “Am I correct in my assumption that it is proper for single young ladies to ride with single young men in an open carriage?”