by Gayle Buck
Lord Rathbone's Flirt
Gayle Buck
About the Author
Publishing Information
* * *
Chapter 1
The young lady had been traveling since early that morning. An hour past, she had obeyed the instructions written to her and left the mail coach at the small posting house. She had stepped down from the crowded coach, stiff and weary and wondering what was yet to come. A frosty November wind had begun blowing out of the north, and she stood in the inn yard, pulling close her pelisse.
While her portmanteau and her bandboxes were being retrieved by the coachman, she had been approached by a manservant, who had addressed her by name and indicated that she was to travel the remaining miles in the master’s own carriage.
Miss Verity Worth had gratefully climbed up into this well-sprung vehicle, her luggage had been stowed, and the servant had taken his seat on the box. A crack of the whip over the team, and the carriage had been well off. Miss Worth had thus been afforded but the most fleeting impression of the posting house yard and of the village through which the carriage passed, before tall hedgerows had obscured her vision.
The carriage jolted over the potholes of the lane, but Miss Worth paid little heed to what she considered to be a minor discomfort. She was grateful for this respite. Despite the lack of a brick to warm her feet or a lap rug, the carriage still offered a much more comfortable ride than had the mail coach, which she had endured in the company of several other passengers. She had never before experienced the crowding and the noise of travel by mail and she hoped that she would not soon again.
Miss Worth concernedly scanned the leaden sky that was swiftly darkening to dusk. She knew that she would arrive at her destination at an inconvenient hour, but it could not be helped. The mail had been put off schedule when one of its leaders had tossed a shoe. She only hoped that her cousins, who were now to be her employers also, would not be thrown into a state of censorious disapproval by her later arrival.
Certainly nothing could have been more unfortunate, since she did not know her cousins except in a vague way. She had been anxious to make a favorable impression, for this was to be her first post.
Miss Worth’s anxiety stemmed from the fact that she did not recall much about her cousins, the Pettiforths. She had met them once, perhaps twice, during the course of her girlhood. The families had not been close, either in relationship or geographically, and so there had not been the concourse that one might have otherwise expected.
However, Miss Worth’s father had been a man of considerable correspondence. Sir Montague Worth, Baronet, had been active in the House of Commons. He had also held the post of justice of the peace and he had taken an interest in all that took place in his particular county. He had firmly believed that one should cultivate as many people as possible for, he had once said, one never knew when a connection would prove to be useful. And so he had pursued a comfortable correspondence with a distant cousin that through the years had become immensely satisfying to both gentlemen.
It was a connection that was now standing Sir Montague’s eldest daughter in good stead. Miss Worth had few illusions about what her options would have been had her father not supported such a wide-flung acquaintance. She sighed with regret as her thoughts turned on the past several months.
Sir Montague’s premature death had been a shock to all who had known that robust gentleman. His widow, especially, had been devastated. It was not to be wondered at, agreed her acquaintances, when there were two sons still in school and a daughter at an expensive select seminary in Barchester to be provided for.
Lady Worth’s widow portion amounted to one third of the income from her dead husband’s estate. Her ladyship was shocked at how meager was the amount. There was scarcely enough left over from the upkeep of the huge house to see to all the other necessary expenses incurred by a large estate. Those expenditures that must be made on behalf of the Worth offspring had been in addition to all the rest.
Of course, there would not have been a problem at all if it had not been for the unfortunate timing of Sir Montague’s passing. By all rights, the baronet should have enjoyed several more years before giving up the reins, at a time when it could be expected that the restless heir would have become willing to quit a military career.
The estate was entailed to the eldest son, Charles, who unfortunately was serving with the British army somewhere in America. Word about Sir Montague Worth’s untimely death had at once been sent out on one of the sailing ships, but naturally Charles could not be expected to return to England for several months. Nothing could be done about releasing the rest of the income from the estate until that day, since only the heir could do so.
The months had crept by without a single communication from the heir. Word was again launched, this time with the object of learning why the new baronet had not already returned. In the meantime, the matter of finances had become rather pressing, and so the remainder of the family had been faced with the prospect of the strictest economizing to remain afloat.
“We shall simply have to bring the boys and poor Elizabeth home,” Lady Worth sighed. Even as she put into words the ugly necessity, her rounded chin trembled.
“No, I will not have it,” Verity declared. “It is unthinkable to interrupt the younger boys’ education. As for Elizabeth, it is equally unthinkable that my sister should be denied the same advantage that I enjoyed. You know how very well Elizabeth has settled in, Mama.”
“What choice is there, Verity? You know as well as I do that nothing can be done about the sudden shortfall in finances until Charles returns,” said August Worth, his kind face lined by worry. He did not voice it, but the thought that something might have befallen his brother was never far from his thoughts.
August was next in age after his elder brother but no two young men could have been more dissimilar. Where Charles was reckless and somewhat hard, August had always been contemplative and deliberate. He was by no means a weak man, for his gentle nature was also one of resilience and conviction.
He did not wish for the baronetcy to fall on his shoulders, but if it should, he meant to bear its responsibilities with stoicism and give up his calling with the least amount of repining of which he was capable.
August Worth was in orders and he was genuinely sincere in the work that had been given to him. His living was not a rich one, but nevertheless he had offered to put at his mother’s disposal whatever meager sum he could manage.
Lady Worth had been greatly touched by her son’s sacrifice, but she had declined, declaring that nothing could persuade her to take the food out of her grandsons’ mouths. Her daughter-in-law, Sally, had gently protested that it was no such thing. But Lady Worth had been adamant and, indeed, had become so agitated, that the subject was allowed to drop.
“Crofthouse must be closed and most of the servants released to find other employment,” said Verity with mingled regret and decisiveness. “Then only a portion of the salaries need be paid until Charles returns and reopens the house.”
At Lady Worth’s despairing moan, Verity smiled with understanding. She laid her hand over her mother’s. “I am sorry, Mama, but we must. You have said it yourself—we are very nearly run off our feet. If we knew for certain when Charles was going to return—”
“Yes, and I shall not disguise from you all that I am most disturbed that your brother has not yet come home, nor sent us a single reassurance as to his safety,” said Lady Worth. “Sometimes I cannot but wonder whether—but I shall not say it. I dare not!”
The others looked at one another in dismay, their eyes acknowledging the shadow of fear that beset them all. There was a war going on in America, after all,
and Charles had always been a neck-or-nothing sort of fellow.
With determined cheerfulness, Verity said, “You shall not stay here amongst the holland covers, Mama. You must write to Great-aunt Mary and accept her kind invitation to reside with her for a time at Brighton. You know how she urged you to come after Papa died.”
“Yes. Of course it is necessary. I should have realized it sooner. It is just that I shall hate it so!” said Lady Worth, looking about the familiar sitting room with tears in her eyes.’ “I have lived here since that first day when your dear papa brought me in as a new bride. It will be so very difficult to leave.”
“Charles will come home as soon as he can,” offered Sally. She put her arms around the afflicted widow, who was searching wildly for a handkerchief.
Verity handed her own handkerchief to her mother. She said encouragingly, “It is only for a very little while, Mama. You know that Charles will want you to come back.”
“Yes, I do know it, dearest. And I mean to be brave,” said Lady Worth, dabbing at her eyes. She sat up straighter, though there was still a forlorn cast to her expression. “There, do I not appear brave?”
“Yes, indeed, Mama. You will do,” said Verity, smiling.
“This is all very well, Verity. Certainly, closing Crofthouse and sending away the servants is practical. But it is not enough, as you well know,” said August, clasping his hands behind his back and regarding his sister from his angular height.
Brother and sister were much alike in appearance, both tall and sharing the same gleaming chestnut locks and gray eyes. They were generally acknowledged to be handsome. But whereas August’s even features could sometimes assume an austere aspect, Verity was held to be more lively in countenance. It was but a trick of expression with its origin in the eyes, but it had won for her much notice with the gentlemen in the past.
Verity’s expression was now uncharacteristically subdued. “Yes, I know. There is still the tuition to be thought of and Elizabeth also,” said Verity, sighing. “I have racked my brains and I still cannot quite see how it is all to be brought about.”
“Oh, why doesn’t Charles come? I vow that I am being driven quite distracted with the whole wretched business. My mind is in a constant whirl, wondering what is to be done,” said Lady Worth. “If Crofthouse is to be closed I am sure I do not know what is to become of Elizabeth or the boys, for certainly they cannot come home.”
“But I have just had a thought to the purpose,” said August. A singularly charming smile touched the corner of his mouth as he inclined his head respectfully to his parent. “Our mother will not accept pecuniary help from me; however, I fancy that she will not deny me the right to lend a hand in another direction. The boys must come to me at Highcroft and I will become their tutor.”
“August, it is the very thing! How very clever of you to think of it,’ exclaimed Sally. She beamed at her husband with such adoring approval that he flushed a gratified crimson.
“I own, it does seem a very good notion,” said Verity. She turned to Lady Worth. “What do you think, Mama? Will that suit you?”
Lady Worth nodded. There was a measure of relief in her eyes and her voice trembled. “It is so very good of you, August. You are a true comfort in this time of affliction. I need not wonder how my boys are going on when you have them in hand.”
August cleared his throat, somewhat embarrassed by such expressions of gratitude. “Then it is settled. Timothy and Bart will board with us until such time as they may return to school.”
“But what of Elizabeth? Oh, surely there must be a way to provide for her, as well?” asked Sally hopefully.
She had expressed all their thoughts. With the satisfactory solution for the continuance of the boys’ education, there had also to be found a way to continue to provide for their remaining charge.
“I have already thought of it,” said Verity. She looked down at her hands. “I had not wanted to say anything when the boys’ future was still at stake, for I did not believe that what I had in mind would support all three. But now that Timothy and Bart are comfortably settled, I shall tell you all at one time.”
She raised her eyes and took a steadying breath, for she well knew what reaction to expect from her pronouncement. “I mean to take a post.”
Her family stared at her, held momentarily speechless by the shock, but then almost instantly there was a strenuous outcry. Lady Worth’s firm voice was distinguishable above the others. “My dear! No, I will not countenance it. I shall not see you so degraded. You will go with me to Brighton.”
Verity appealed to her mother’s practical nature. “Mama, it will not do. Great-aunt Mary’s town house could not possibly contain the three of us. And Elizabeth’s needs are of far greater moment than my pride, which even you must admit.”
“But what will people say? How will I explain it to our friends? I know that everyone will suspect that your father left us penniless or some such thing. They will talk about him so. Oh, Verity, it is just too horrible to contemplate!” exclaimed Lady Worth.
“Our true friends will think no such thing. They know that Charles is away and how things stand with us. I do not believe that they will hold it against Papa, and only a little against me, that I accept a temporary post under the circumstances,” said Verity.
“You have friends in London. Surely there is someone that you might call upon,” said August.
Verity shook her head even as her gray eyes twinkled up at her brother. “Really, August, how can I descend upon any one of my friends for an unspecified time and be totally dependent upon their hospitality? I think that would go more against your pride than the notion of my seeking honorable employment. I know that it does mine. Besides, if I were to do so, it would not make it possible for Elizabeth to remain in Barchester, which I am determined that she will be able to do. So that is why I have decided to become a governess or a companion.”
At her mother’s moan, Verity allowed the flicker of a smile to cross her lips. “It is only for a time, I promise you. I am counting upon Charles to rescue me, you see. He shall enjoy that, don’t you agree? But all levity aside, Mama, can you not see that it is for the best?”
Lady Worth could only shake her head, not agreeing but unable to deny the truth of what her daughter had said.
“Well, I do not see it, Verity. No, Verity! You will do no such thing,” said August roughly. “You will come to live with us.”
“Yes, that is by far the best possible solution. And Elizabeth shall go to Brighton. Oh, Verity, we do want you with us,” said Sally.
Verity smiled rather mistily at her brother and sister-in-law. “Oh, August, dearest Sally, I would like that, indeed I would. But I could not possibly. You will already have Timothy and Bart and the babies.”
August’s lips parted. Verity threw up her hand to forestall her brother’s counter to her statement. “Pray do not let us argue, August. I have quite made up my mind, you see. By taking a post, I shall be able to provide something for my sister and also I will not be a charge upon you or on Mama.”
“Verity, you could never be a charge upon any of us,” exclaimed Sally, distressed.
“Indeed, indeed, dearest child, I would far rather live in a garret than watch you make such a sacrifice for me,” assured Lady Worth.
“There is one other alternative open to me,” said Verity.
“Anything else would be infinitely preferable!” exclaimed August.
“I could marry Mr. Plimpton,” said Verity quietly.
* * *
Chapter 2
An instant consternation came over Verity’s companions. Lady Worth passed a hand over her eyes. Her brother and sister-in-law exchanged an eloquent glance. “I apprehend that the possibility does not meet with unqualified approval,” said Verity dryly.
August took an agitated turn about the room. He flung over his shoulder, “It is an unhappy thought, Verity!”
Sally looked at her sister-in-law and
faltered, “Oh, my dear sister! Mr. Plimpton?!”
They were all very well-acquainted with Mr. Plimpton. He had been a good friend of Sir Montague Worth’s. The gentleman had been hanging out after Verity for more than a year. It had been a very good joke to begin with to all the family, not the least to Sir Montague himself; but it had palled some time past. The gentleman’s attentions had become even more marked since Sir Montague Worth’s death.
“I am on the shelf, Sally. One cannot be too particular at my advanced age,” said Verity, trying to lighten the moment with a bit of gallows humor.
August growled under his breath, but he did not object to his sister’s statement as might have been expected of a fond brother. He was a realist and he understood the society in which they lived and were bound by birth and tradition. Each year young misses emerged from the schoolroom to be introduced to society for the express purpose of snaring the most superior offer of marriage possible.
Verity was twenty and could not now be expected to wed to advantage. Though she was a stylish young woman and had acquired the ease necessary to a well-bred lady who moved in society, she was still two years older than most of the rest of the unmarried females. As far as society was concerned, Miss Verity Worth was passé.
It had not always been so. Upon her come out, Verity had had several suitors. Only just out of the schoolroom, her heart had been engaged and an offer for her hand had been accepted. But her fiancé had been almost immediately killed in an action on the Peninsular.
Though Verity had not been completely without suitors in the intervening two years, she had never formed another deep attachment. She had enjoyed her visits to town; she had liked keeping in touch with old friends, both male and female; and she had accepted the gallantries of admiring gentlemen. But she had not shown a clear preference for anyone.
“Oh, how I wish that you had cared for that nice Mr. Crawford who appeared so smitten with you several months ago,” said Sally, deeply distressed. “Even though he has since emigrated to America, and we would have sorely missed you, I am certain that he would have seen to your comfort.”
