by Carola Dunn
“Indeed, Miss Ingram, you need not suppose that I shall take offence. I never aspired to dine at Lady Westwood’s table and I am most conscious of your kindness in allowing me--”
“Balderdash! Felix,” Fanny called to her betrothed as he entered the hall, “you don’t object to Miss Bannister dining with us, do you?”
He grinned. “Recognizing your militant mood, I shouldn’t dare say if I did, but of course I don’t.”
“Connie?”
“Not in the least, but perhaps you ought to consult your brother, Fanny. He is the duke’s host, and he may wish to avoid antagonizing his grace further.”
“I’m so glad you’re here to advise me, Connie. What should I do without you? It’s up to Frank, then.”
“I’ll go and relieve him and tell him you want a word,” offered Felix. “I’ve sent the groom off to London with a message for Mackintyre.” He departed towards the drawing-room.
Anita, who had been tugging at Fanny’s sleeve for some time, now burst into speech. “I want to have dinner with the mad duke, too,” she begged. “Please, Aunt Fanny.”
“When you are older, darling,” said Fanny, laughing. “It’s your bedtime, now. If you’re very good and go to sleep quickly, I’ll bring up a present to leave beside your bed for the morning.”
Satisfied, Anita kissed her and Constantia goodnight and went upstairs with Vickie and Miss Bannister.
“Heavens,” Fanny exclaimed, “I still haven’t told Mrs Tanner to make up a chamber for the duke. Connie, will you stay here and consult Frank while I speak to her and Henriette?” She hurried away.
Constantia crossed to the vase of Michaelmas daisies and started to fiddle with the flowers. She changed the vase’s position on the dark oak Jacobean table, then moved it back. She felt oddly restless, almost fluttery, as if she were in a quake for some reason.
There was nothing to fear, she scolded herself. The duke had been quite frightening but Frank could cope with him. If he attacked her again, Frank would protect her. How splendidly he had routed the bully with his calm, decisive words and manner. He must have been a superb officer. With a single word he had halted Oxshott in his tracks, and then withered him with scorn.
In fact, Frank had showed a formidable side to his nature, one she had not guessed at. Was that why she was in high fidgets?
Fustian! She did not believe for a moment that he would ever try to intimidate her. Why should their relationship change just because she had discovered a facet of his character that she ought to have expected, knowing his profession? Yet it was confusing, disturbing and--somehow exciting.
“Lady Constantia?” Frank’s voice was close behind her.
Her heart skipped a beat and she dropped the flower she had just pulled from the vase. “Oh! You startled me. I did not hear you coming.”
“I beg your pardon!” He smiled at her quizzically. “I didn’t mean to creep up on you. You were in a brown study, I daresay.”
Flushing, she pushed the yellow daisy back among its fellows. “Yes, lost in thought, I fear.” Thank heaven he could not read her mind!
His face darkened. “You have much cause for reflection. I dare not hope you will stay after being insulted in my house, by a relative of mine.”
“How can you suppose I shall desert Fanny just when she is most in need of my support?” Laying her hand on his arm, she added earnestly, “I shall not heed his raving. He cannot harm me. But he will serve you and Fanny ill if he can. Promise me you will beware of him, Captain.”
“I promise, though I believe I have his measure, and Mackintyre will soon set him straight. You must not tease yourself on our account.”
He looked down at her with such warmth in his dark eyes that the heat rose in her cheeks again. She turned away to pick up her gloves from the table where she had left them. “I shall try not to. Oh, I almost forgot!”
“Roworth said Fanny wanted a word with me.”
“She had to go and see Mrs Tanner and Henriette. I almost forgot I am deputed to ask your opinion. Fanny did say to ‘consult’ you, but I cannot promise your verdict will be heeded should it differ from hers.”
He grinned. “Up in arms is she? I thought she was being amazingly restrained. What’s the difficulty? Whether to house his grace in the attics or the cellars? What a pity we have no dungeons.”
Constantia smiled. “Most regrettable. No, I believe she intends to provide suitable quarters. She is resolved to prove to Felix that she can be a gracious hostess to a nobleman of high degree. However, she is also resolved to stand upon principle and have Miss Bannister dine with the family.”
“Why should she not? Who could be more respectable than the daughter of a canon with one n?”
“Miss Bannister fears the duke will dislike dining with a governess. Fanny says he must accept her domestic arrangements, and I do agree, but I felt you might wish to avoid arousing his ire over a minor matter.”
“His nose is so far out of joint already it can make little difference. Besides, Fanny is right, it’s a matter of principle. I wouldn’t for the world have Miss Bannister imagine Fanny and I hold ourselves superior to her. If he’ll condescend to dine with us, he must condescend to dine with her, too.”
“I wondered whether perhaps she is afraid of being abused to her face,” she said tentatively.
“A reasonable fear, alas. Should he choose to display his boorishness at my table, then duke or no, uncle or no, he can remove himself bag and baggage to the Pig and Piper.”
Constantia did not doubt for a moment that he was capable of forcing Oxshott to depart, even though the duke claimed Upfield Grange as his own. How much more comfortable they would all be. “Why did you invite him to stay here in the first place?” she enquired.
“I prefer to have him under my eye, rather than stirring up mischief in the village. You don’t think I have more regard for Miss Bannister’s feelings than for yours, do you?” Frank asked anxiously. “I ought not to have invited him after he was so abominably rude to you.”
“I did not take it personally,” she assured him. “At first he took me for Fanny, and then for...” Her face flamed as she recalled that Oxshott had called her Frank’s doxy. “...For someone else. Truly, you must not tease yourself on my account. Excuse me, pray, I must go and see if Fanny needs me before we change for dinner.” She made a hurried escape.
What an utter darling she was, Frank thought, watching her slim, graceful figure disappear into the servants’ quarters. He remembered all too well what his uncle had said to cause her fiery blush. His doxy never, no, nor his wife, though his body ached to hold her. When she said she’d stay, thankfulness had overwhelmed him, but how was he to bear her constant presence?
Constantia--constancy. A name as beautiful as its owner, and if he ever earned the right to use it he’d never shorten it to Connie. Constancy. The only constant was that she was within reach yet ever beyond his reach.
With a bitter laugh he mocked himself as a maudlin fool and turned his steps towards the drawing-room. The battle of wits with his grace, the Duke of Oxshott, would distract him from his woes.
* * * *
The next morning’s post brought a letter from Westwood. Lady Constantia was to return home at once to prepare for the Little Season.
Chapter 10
“I can’t see why on earth I have to go too,” Vickie stormed. “Mama doesn’t mean to take me to Town until the spring, and I can learn here just as well as at home.”
Roworths and Ingrams, together with Anita and Miss Bannister, were seated at breakfast in the dining-room. Constantia’s announcement of the contents of Lady Westwood’s letter had cast an immediate gloom over the company and roused her sister to rebellion. She breathed a sigh of relief that the Duke of Oxshott was not an early riser.
“You cannot defy Mama in this, Vickie,” she said gently.
“Apart from anything else, she would blame Miss Bannister, and maybe even Fanny, for your disobedience.”
“Not to mention you and me, Con,” said Felix. “Of course you must go, Vickie.”
Anita had been looking from one to another, tears filling her black eyes, her lower lip trembling. Now she slid down from her seat and hung on Vickie’s arm, wailing, “Don’t go, Aunt Vickie!”
“I shan’t,” Vickie declared stoutly.
“I fear we have no choice, Lady Victoria,” her governess said. “Lady Westwood has every right to insist on your return, and I should be sadly remiss in my duty did I not take you back to Westwood.”
“Are you going too?” asked Anita. Her little face crumpled and she ran sobbing to Fanny. “Mama, Mama, you won’t go away?”
Fanny lifted her onto her knee and held her tight. “No, darling, I’m staying right here. Vickie will come often to visit us, I hope, and Miss Bannister will come back to teach you as soon as Vickie no longer needs her. Will you not, ma’am?”
“Certainly, Miss Ingram,” said the governess, flushed with pleasure. “If you honestly wish it.”
“Can you doubt it? I don’t know how we shall manage without you in the meantime.” She turned to Constantia, biting her lip. “This is the worst possible time! I need your support and advice now more than ever, Connie.”
Constantia’s heart swelled within her. Here she was needed and wanted. To Mama she represented a duty, a recalcitrant daughter to be married off to the most eligible suitor available. Her hand crept to her chest as she envisioned the coming battles over modish décolletés for Town wear.
“I shall stay,” she announced.
Fanny’s delight stiffened her resolve. “Connie, will you really? Bless you!”
“You’re forgetting, Fanny,” said Frank. “Lady Constantia’s offer is extremely kind, but you can’t wish to deprive her of the pleasures of the Little Season.”
“Oh drat,” Fanny exclaimed. “You’re right, I had forgotten. I couldn’t be so selfish as to keep you, Connie, when at last you have a chance to go to balls and routs and ridottos.”
“But I have no desire to go.” Constantia turned to Frank and assured him, “Indeed, I truly would prefer not to go to London.”
“It’s quite true,” said Felix. “She told me the same before you even came to Westwood, so you need not feel the least guilt, Fanny love. You need her support now, and in the spring we’ll go up to Town and she’ll have our support for the Season, instead of being all alone at Mama’s mercy.”
“That’s not fair,” Vickie cried. “I’ll be all alone at Mama’s mercy if you make me leave.”
“You’ll have Miss Bannister,” her brother pointed out, “and you’re only seventeen, so you have to abide by Mama’s commands. Connie’s of age. She can decide for herself.”
“I don’t like it.” Frank frowned down at the rapidly cooling remains of his bacon and eggs, refusing to meet Constantia’s eyes. “We ought not to set ourselves up against Lady Westwood. She’s going to be your mother-in-law, Fanny. It’ll hardly make for cordial relations if she blames us for keeping Lady Constantia from her.”
“I’ll take the blame,” said Felix cheerfully. “I’ll tell her I insisted on Con staying to companion Fanny. After all, she herself said Fanny shouldn’t be without another female to protect her against me.”
“Nonetheless,” Frank persisted with the dogged obstinacy his chin warned of, “to disregard a summons--”
“Connie’s not in the army,” Fanny reminded him. “She’s not going to be court-martialled for desertion.”
“I cannot stay against Captain Ingram’s wishes,” said Constantia flatly, unable to prevent a catch in her voice.
At last he looked at her, the dismay and concern in his eyes mingled with some deeper, unreadable emotion. “Nothing would please me more than to have you stay. It’s just...” He shrugged his shoulders and continued with a wry smile, “I daresay it’s military habit makes me consider all the possible consequences of any action. Please don’t leave.”
Accepting gracefully, she remained unconvinced. She did not doubt his genuine concern for her feelings, yet she was sure he did not really want her to stay at Upfield Grange, and that hurt.
Frank saw through her attempt to conceal her chagrin and damned his own insensitivity. He had expected her to see his objections as reasonable scruples, but she had guessed that he wanted her to leave. To explain his real reasons was out of the question. The only way to remedy his apparent unkindness was to spend as much time as possible proving to her how much he valued her friendship.
A tempting prospect, yet one that could only increase his torment.
Vickie started to argue again. Her governess appeared reluctant to intervene in her dispute with her brother and sister. However, when Roworth and Constantia continued to hold firm against her, Miss Bannister said severely, “That is quite enough, Lady Victoria. We shall return to Westwood.”
Disconsolate, she submitted. “Yes, ma’am. But not today,” she pleaded. “I can’t leave without saying goodbye to Sir George. And to Lady Berman, and Pam and Lizzie. And you promised we’d have a picnic at Heathcote, Felix. I haven’t even seen Fanny’s house yet.”
“I like picnics,” Anita announced. “Amos does, too.”
“We could go today,” said Constantia impulsively. How like her to sympathize with her sister’s disappointment, Frank thought, glancing at the window. Outside the golden September sunshine gave promise of near-summer warmth. “Papa is sending the carriage and he expects it to arrive this evening, so you cannot leave until tomorrow, in any case, Vickie. We could invite the Bermans to go with us to Heathcote.”
“What a splendid notion, Con!” Vickie sparkled again. “Sir George has a splendid farm wagon that he fills with cushions to take his family on outings. We’d all fit in, I’m sure, even with Lady Berman and the girls. Well, almost all.” She counted heads.
Miss Bannister smiled at her. “I shall not go, Lady Victoria. You know how poorly travelling suits me. And I daresay your brother will ride or drive.”
“I’ll drive Fanny,” said Roworth, exchanging a fond glance with his betrothed.
“And me,” Anita begged.
“Won’t you want to spend every possible minute with Aunt Vickie?” Roworth suggested slyly.
Frank wondered whether he was wise to let his sister spend so much time alone with her beloved. On the other hand, he knew full well he couldn’t stop her.
Roworth’s ploy worked. “Oh yes,” cried Anita, filled with remorse. She jumped down from Fanny’s lap and ran to hug Vickie.
“Wait a minute.” Looking ruffled, Constantia turned to Frank. “There are two matters we have not taken into consideration. It is your servants, Captain, who will be responsible for preparing the food. Perhaps you do not care for a picnic.”
“What a spoil-sport you must think me!” he said ruefully. “I’m perfectly prepared to enjoy any picnic that’s better provisioned than our bivouacs in the Spanish mountains, and I, too, want to see Heathcote. You know Henriette will be happy to oblige just as long as she’s not asked to leave her kitchen. What’s your second difficulty?”
Her smile faded. “The duke.”
Dismayed faces around the table told Frank he was not the only one to have forgotten his unwelcome guest. “Dash it,” he groaned, though his interior language was considerably stronger. “We can hardly go off and leave the old...dastard alone. I’ll have to invite him to go with us, but if he accepts he’ll ruin the picnic and if he doesn’t I, as his host, will have to stay behind to entertain him.”
“Yes, I fear you ought.” Constantia sighed. Frank had the impression she was going to say something further, but she bit back the words trembling on her lips. Had she been going to offer to stay with him? No, sheer wishful thinking. Lady Constantia Roworth had been brought up far too properly even to contemplate so indecorous a suggestion.
“If you ask me, you’ve more need to keep an eye on him than to entertain him,” said Felix with a grin. “ The old...dastard might take it into his head t
o barricade the place while he had it to himself and refuse to let us back in.”
“That he won’t!” Thomas had come in with fresh coffee and tea. He stopped with the coffee-pot hovering over Frank’s cup. “Begging your lordship’s pardon, but me and Corp’ral Hoskins wouldn’t never let his grace get away with a trick like that. ‘Less your ladyship was wanting me to go along to wait?”
Constantia consulted Fanny with a glance. “No, thank you, Thomas, we shall be quite informal. Oh dear, that is, unless the duke joins us. If so I daresay he will wish to bring his servants to make him comfortable.”
“And if he doesn’t go, he’ll have six men, including himself, to the two of you, Thomas,” said Frank grimly. “Remember, Lord Roworth’s groom left for London last night.”
Felix laughed. “Trevor certainly wouldn’t be much use if push came to shove,” he said, “but I wasn’t serious! Oxshott’s a nobleman, not a brigand. He’ll take a lot of convincing that you’re the legitimate heirs, but he’s not going to do anything so outlandish as to take possession of the place and prepare for a siege.”
Frank had less faith in the rationality of the aristocracy. “Perhaps not,” he conceded, “but I’ll still have to be here to entertain him.”
“I hope he chooses not to come,” said Vickie. “I’ll be sorry if you have to miss the picnic, Captain, but he’d ruin the fun. Sir George cannot abide the sight of him.”
One way or another, Frank thought, it sounded like an exhausting day. At Upfield Grange he’d be striving to keep his temper with his uncle; at Heathcote he’d be striving to keep his neighbour from his uncle’s throat.
“Perhaps we should invite Sir George and his family to join us on another occasion,” Fanny proposed.
“No!” Vickie cried. “If you’re going to make me go back to Westwood, it will be my last chance to spend some time with him...them for an age. Anyway, we need his wagon to take us all there.”
“It’s time I was setting up my carriage,” said Frank. “Fanny, can you believe it? Only a few weeks ago...” His voice failed him. Only a few weeks ago, he had been fighting for his life in dingy lodgings in Brussels, with the prospect of a life of struggling poverty before him if he survived. He had not even dreamt of Lady Constantia’s existence, and now he was making himself miserable because he could never ask her to be his wife. What a sapskull! He should be revelling in his good fortune and in every moment he could spend with her.
