A Grand Deception

by Shirley Marks

  Without a word, Sherwin moved his gaze from the mirror to the valet, commanding the respect he had not previously required from the servant.

  Lewis scuttled out of the bedchamber into the dressing room and returned in a matter of seconds. In his outstretched hand he offered Sherwin the pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and intoned, "Your lordship."

  For the first time, Sherwin entered the breakfast parlor without a book tucked under his arm. He stepped through the open door and stopped. His mother sat at the far end, near the window.

  She said nothing, but the slight arch of her eyebrows indicated her disapproval of his spectacles, retrieved without her permission, his clothes, none of which she had chosen or purchased, and finally, him. He had the uncomfortable feeling that there would be no pleasing her this day.

  "Good day, madam." He greeted her with a nod.

  "Will you not join me?" Lady Amhurst's unexpectedly sweet tone was one he did not care for. "We shall have the discussion you desire, but I wish that you please be seated" She gestured toward his usual place at the table.

  Sherwin entered and moved to where she had indicated. He flipped the tails of his jacket from behind him and settled into the chair.

  "Molly," Lady Amhurst called to the kitchen maid. "A plate of buttered eggs and coffee for his lordship."

  "Lady Muriel is my choice," he informed his maternal parent.

  "I do regret my reaction last night." Lady Amhurst straightened in her seat. "I must admit, you caught me by surprise. I only wish to know if you are quite sure of your decision."

  The discussion paused when Molly entered and set a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs before Sherwin. Once the maid left, his mother turned to him again.

  "Lady Muriel is a near stranger, whereas I have introduced you to several young ladies I thought you might find of interest. Is there none of them who-"

  "Those females whom I've been calling upon for the last month?" Sherwin shared absolutely nothing with them-no interests, no decent conversation. They had no mind, no opinions, no thought other than . . . "Dresses and hats female fripperies. They are all thoroughly accommodating, I am sure, and, quite simply, I find them vapid." He sipped from his coffee cup but found his appetite had vanished.

  "Where do you expect a lady should direct her attention? Especially a future countess?" Lady Amhurst remained calm, he thought, unnaturally so. She spoke much slower than she normally did, and Sherwin had the distinct feeling she was biding her time. "I do not wish you to make a decision in haste. I have yet to speak to the gel or to her family. Is there not time for a proper courtship?"

  "I beg your pardon, your ladyship." Perhaps he had misjudged his mother. Could she truly be reconsidering her position? She was correct about the slight acquaintance between their families. His years of correspondence with Muriel would need to stay confidential for the time being. Despite Muriel's wish to be done with all her secrets, some needed to remain so, perhaps indefinitely. "We shall, of course, wait an appropriate amount of time before announcing our engagement."

  Lady Amhurst paused, seemingly in thought, and sipped from her cup before asking, "So there is no ... understanding between the two of you?"

  "Not an understanding as much as an expectation. We hadn't anticipated your refusal." Sherwin raised his cup as if he might hide from embarrassment behind it, knowing that what he said was a lie to placate his mother. He and Muriel were resolutely attached. Warmth flushed his face, heating his cheeks.

  "I do apologize. It was an overreaction on my part." Lady Amhurst sighed and seemed more relaxed. "Only allow me to think on this, to grow accustomed to the idea."

  "I beg your pardon, ma'am." Sherwin blinked his heavy lids. He had not considered that his mother might take the news of his decision badly, and it explained her violent outburst. He tugged at his cravat; the confounded thing was strangling him.

  "Your announcement was quite unexpected and caught me unaware. I cannot say, however, I am entirely displeased." She stood with her cup and saucer in hand.

  "Of course we want both families to accept our m-match, but we would not wish to-to wait m-much..." Sherwin couldn't find the words to complete his statement. He was finding it increasingly difficult to hold his head upright; it wobbled from left, right, forward, and back, and it suddenly seemed impossible to keep his eyes open. With a thud, Sherwin felt the hard surface of the table press against the side of his face.

  "Do not concern yourself, Sherwin." Lady Amhurst's voice sounded very far away, followed by the crisp clink of her cup settling on the saucer. "I am quite certain all will work itself out in the endjust as I planned."

  That was the last he heard before the blackness enveloped him.

  Muriel hadn't slept all night. Rising from her bed at daybreak, as was usual, she could no more concentrate on her morning studies than slumber.

  Lady Amhurst's declaration that she would not welcome Muriel into her family had hurt Muriel more than she could ever have imagined. The guests had heard the Countess rant but knew not what or who had caused her rage. Muriel supposed her disgrace might have been complete if it were known to everyone she was the unacceptable party.

  It was a horrible thought.

  Muriel rang for Lydia just after ten to dress and headed below stairs, where she sat before an empty plate in the breakfast room with a cup of chocolate she kept hold of, just off the saucer.

  Perhaps Muriel wouldn't have felt as hurt if Sherwin had instantly stood up for her and for himself, defying his mother. He had every right to, Muriel told herself. After all, he was the new earl, not merely a son. Why could he not marry the woman of his own choosing?

  But she strongly feared he would not act against his mother. He and she had both lost so much, after all: husband, sons, brothers. Still, Sherwin had seemed so certain of his mother's support; the question remained, why had the woman reacted so strongly against Muriel?

  She heard the footfalls approaching and looked up to see her brother standing in the doorway, wearing his gloves with his hat in hand.

  "Where have you been at this hour? Or are you about to leave?" Muriel was in no mood to involve herself in verbal sparring this early in the morning, no matter how Freddie wished to goad her.

  "Moo, I'm relieved to find you up." He rushed to her side, drew out a chair, and settled next to her, perching on the edge of the seat. "I am sorry to be the bearer of such alarming news, but I feel you must know."

  Muriel somehow dreaded to hear what he had to say. It had to be something terrible for him to appear so distressed. Her anxiety grew, sprouting, perhaps, from the deep sorrow she already felt.

  "I've just come from Lloyd Place..." Sherwin's London residence. "He's gone."

  "Gone?" The china cup she'd been holding dropped onto its saucer, and the chocolate sloshed over the edge onto her fingertips.

  "You must be the strong sister I know you to be." Freddie steadied her forearm with a gloved hand. "They've closed up the house and left Town with no indication of their destination."

  Muriel pressed the napkin around her wet fingers and closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly. Sherwin could not leave her-would not, she felt certain. She could not think of what might have happened.

  "I know how deeply he cares for you, and of his intention to marry you."

  At her brother's admission, she straightened, wide-eyed, and faced him. "How could you know?"

  "He told me of his intentions yesterday and asked for my help as to where he might find a certain gift for you."

  Her beautiful fan. What a fool she had been to discard it.

  "I cannot think he left of his own volition." Freddie's anxious expression was one Muriel did not recognize. "I fear something is amiss here. And from my limited exposure to his parent, I deem his mother ... domineering. Perhaps it would not be out of the question that she would behave in a rash and unexpected manner."

  "Last night Sherwin told her we wished to be married. I'm afraid she did not take it well." Muriel pushed a
way from the table in a sudden feeling of restlessness, clutching the cloth napkin in her hand. "Actually, Lady Amhurst refused to consider our match."

  "Knowing what we do, we cannot remain idle." Freddie sounded angry and took to his feet, as if he were ready to take action.

  "I am not in the position of calling the Runners to find him, nor are you, without raising unwanted attention." Muriel set the napkin aside and stood. Never had she felt so helpless. "You must tell me, what is to be done?"

  "Something is very, very wrong." Freddie moved near her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I do not think we can proceed without giving this a bit more thought. I cannot say what options we have at our disposal."

  "We cannot proceed? Do not say so. I am merely a female, as you and Papa have so often reminded me." She turned to her brother with tear-filled eyes. "I cannot stand idle. Until you decide there is something to be done, what would you have me do, Freddie?"

  Loud moaning woke him. Sherwin squeezed his eyes closed in an attempt to bear the pain in his splitting head. He reached to touch his temple and confirmed that, despite what he thought, it remained whole. The moan reverberated again; this time he heard it from the inside.

  The sound had come from him.

  It took several minutes of lying still before he had the courage to pry open his eyes.

  Only one at a time.

  He lay upon something soft. His bed? Sherwin struggled to roll to his side and rubbed his face, realizing that his spectacles were missing. How long had he been here? Was he ill?

  The last thing he remembered was ... Nothing. He needed a few more minutes to clear his head and for the pounding to abate.

  The turn of a doorknob and creaking of hinges told him that he was about to have a guest.

  "Lord Amhurst?" a soft voice called to him. Movement and the rustle of fabric reinforced the presence of a female.

  "Who's there?" Raising his head, Sherwin squinted toward the doorway, which did nothing to identify his visitor.

  "It is Julia ... Julia Shrope." She approached, carrying something on a tray, and straightened slightly at the door, latching it behind her with the distinct sound of a key turning in the lock.

  "Miss Shrope?" He recalled who she was but could not imagine why, of all people ... "Does your mother know you're here?"

  "Mama is below stairs with Lady Amhurst." Miss Shrope set the tray on a surface. "They sent me to check on you"

  Sherwin made to sit up when she neared the bed, which caused him considerable pain.

  "How are you feeling?" Her kind words and soft touch did much to calm him, although the pain persisted. "You've been drugged. Laudanum, I think. Here, drink this. I'm told it will make you feel better." She held out the glass, and he hesitated before bringing it to his lips.

  Sherwin was willing to give it a try. He sipped at the liquid and choked. "What is that?"

  "A bit of brandy." Miss Shrope moved back, reacting at once to his discomfort.

  "No more, I beg you." He did not like it, but after a few minutes his head seemed to clear, and the pain had marginally subsided. Now that he had his eyes cracked open, Sherwin could tell he was not in his room, or any other, at Lloyd Place. "Where am I?"

  "Sandstone Abbey, Wiltshire."

  The name meant nothing to him. "Wiltshire?" How long had he been asleep?

  "More specifically, you are in my brother Grant's room" Miss Shrope continued to watch him.

  "Where is Grant?" Sherwin knew nothing about her family and wondered why he lay in this room.

  "Away at Eton."

  It's where he should have been, at school ... no, not Eton. There was a place more important he needed to be....

  Sherwin should have been in London-with Muriel.

  "Muriel waits for me" He remembered now. Yet he still was not quite sure what had happened to him.

  "Lady Muriel Worth?"

  "Yes" Sherwin had the feeling Miss Shrope knew more than she let on. "I must call on her this afternoon. Why am I here?"

  "I heard them, our mothers, speak of her. I'm sure they did not think I overheard, but..."

  "Yes?" Sherwin had worked his way to the edge of the bed and slid one booted foot, then the other, to the floor. "What did they say?"

  "They wish us to marry ... our mothers, that is." Miss Shrope continued to keep her distance from him. "My mother is not so insistent. At least she wasn't until Lady Amhurst convinced her that we should suit."

  "Marry?" Sherwin grabbed hold of a bedpost to steady himself.

  "Lady Amhurst likes me very well. She's expressed the need to have a malleable daughter-in-law. My mother could not have asked for a better match-oh, la, sir, you are an earl. And she assured her ladyship of my complete cooperation." Her voice trailed to almost an inaudible whisper. "They believe we will do well together because we are both easily controlled."

  His mother had sunk to a new low. Drugging him was bad enough, and now openly expressing her plan to manipulate him and another. "I shall have her sent to the Dower House, at once, upon my return to Marsdon Manor."

  "Lady Amhurst has no intention of removing to the Dower House. She intends to remain the mistress of Marsdon Manor," Miss Shrope replied, still reserved in her response. "She made that very clear to my mother."

  "I may have been remiss in my duty and inexperienced at wielding my rank ... I have, however, learned much during my short stay in Town." In large part, he considered, due to the Earl of Brent. Perhaps the Dower House would be too close. A property in or near Scotland might work better for the future home of the Dowager Countess. Someplace far, far from him and Muriel.

  Sherwin had learned quite a lot from observing Freddie the past few days in his conduct with the young ladies, peers, tailors, shopkeepers, persons in service positions in various establishments, including those at Lloyd Place, and, most important, Sherwin's mother.

  "I believe my mother suspects that I will no longer tolerate her interference." Sherwin would not allow her to manage him or his affairs from this day forward. "That may explain her desperation. Are you willing to go along with this plan of our mothers'?"

  "It does not matter what I wish, my lord. I will do as I am bid." Her gaze remained fixed at her feet.

  "You would wed against your will?" Why would she allow herself to be pushed into a marriage she did not want?

  "I've heard talk of Lady Muriel." She paused and glanced in his direction. "That she's been- It's very wicked of her. Are you the man she has been secretly meeting? Is that why your mother has removed you from Town in this manner?"

  He could have laughed. He'd believed the very same unpleasant thought of Muriel at one time. Sherwin tried to look guilty in order to keep Muriel's secret. Why not allow Miss Shrope to believe the tale, especially if it would give her a distasteful impression of him?

  "I'm sure there are worse fates than being married to you." She blushed while making her confession. "But I do not see how I could marry you when it is clear you are already in love with Lady Muriel."

  Muriel ... Sherwin didn't like being so far away from her. He knew the deep, heavy feeling inside his chest would not dissipate until he saw her again.

  "She is my heart." Sherwin felt the lump in his throat grow larger and found it difficult to swallow. His eyes filled with tears. He had to believe he would be by Muriel's side once again. "I must ... I need to get back to London as soon as possible."

  Go to London? We have just come from there, and it is so very far away." Miss Shrope pressed a hand to her forehead. "It took us a good part of one day and nearly through the night to travel here. We only stopped to change horses."

  "No, matter. I must be on my way." Sherwin still held tightly on to the bedpost, unsure of his balance but knowing for certain what he had to do.

  "Shall I have a horse saddled?" She turned from him and began to pace. "I do not quite know how I will manage without our mothers learning of it."

  "I cannot ride," he confessed. How very lowering it was to ad
mit his inadequacy.

  "Prepare a gig for a swift escape, then?"

  "I cannot drive." Even with all of Sherwin's education, he began to see the advantage of the more mundane pursuits he had once thought worthless. They now seemed valuable skills, and he regretted that he had not attempted, much less mastered, them. Something, he vowed, he would rectify. "Perhaps it would be best if I did not alert the staff, in any case. As is my situation, it seems they are loyal to only Lady Amhurst. I'm afraid I shall have to walk."

  "Walk? Oh, dear." Miss Shrope clasped her hands before her. "You cannot. You haven't gloves or a hat!"

  "Nonetheless, I cannot allow that to deter me."

  "What will happen when you are discovered missing?" She was quite right to be concerned about that. It was far more important than traveling without a hat.

  "I'm sure my mother will make an effort to have me retrieved. I can assure you, I will do my utmost to thwart any attempt at discovery." How Sherwin would manage, he wasn't sure.

  "You cannot dash out willy-nilly 'round the countryside; you are certain to be found." Miss Shrope, by her tone, seemed overwrought.

  Sherwin stepped away from the four-poster bed. "I expect I have a more pressing problem of escaping the confines of this house. The door to this room is locked, is it not?"

  She glanced back, but Sherwin suspected she must have already known that. Hadn't he heard her lock-and-key entry? "I recall how Grant and Douglas, my other brother, would sometimes sneak out at night. They'd climb down the tree after curfew."

  Sherwin stepped toward the window and peered out, noting the large brownish-colored object close to the building, which he supposed was the tree. It was not so close that he would think it reachable from his current position, however.

  He reached around for his quizzing glass, which it then occurred to him he'd purposely left behind when he'd dressed. Sherwin felt a momentary panic and patted the pocket of his waistcoat, looking for his lover's eye. Its form under his fingertips assured him of its presence.