by Sandra Heath
Augustine stood then, still holding his hand. “I will leave you now, cher ami,” she murmured softly. “For you must sleep, but I promise that I shall come again soon. I cannot tell you how glad my heart is that you are safe after all and have come home to me.”
Laura felt rooted to the spot as the other emerged from the room and slowly closed the door, leaning back on it as if to emphasize her superiority by placing herself so firmly between Laura and Nicholas.
“So, my lady, we meet at last, and already I think you know how things will be here, don’t you? There’s no place for you at King’s Cliff and I advise you to leave now, before you suffer anymore.”
“I have every right to be here.”
“Because he is your husband?” Augustine gave a mirthless laugh. “Oh, come now, do you honestly imagine he will want to keep you as his wife when he recovers? Your so-called marriage can be set aside the moment I wish. Yours is a mariage de convenance, an empty contract. That ring you wear means nothing. No doubt you thought yourself so very clever, trapping a man on his deathbed into marrying you, but your plotting will come to nothing. I will see to that.”
Laura was gallingly unable to think of anything acid enough to say; her wits seemed to have deserted her, leaving her totally at Augustine’s mercy. “I do not think my marriage is any concern of yours,” was all she could manage.
Augustine laughed. “It isn’t worth anyone’s concern, my lady, I’ll grant you that. How Nicholas must be regretting his mésalliance.” The cool green eyes swept over Laura, at once scornful and triumphant, “Dear God, how he must be regretting it.”
“You hope. You can’t be sure, though, can you?”
“Oh, I think I can. You do not honestly imagine that you are capable of taking him from me and keeping him, do you? If you do, then you obviously dwell in the realms of fantasy.” Augustine straightened then, her eyes glittering coldly. “No tawdry adventuress with an eye to doing well for herself is about to turn my world around, or intrude upon my existence in any way whatsoever. You are nothing here, as you will soon discover if you are ill-advised enough to remain. I am mistress of both this house and its master. You are not welcome and I shall see to it that every moment you spend here is a misery from which you will wish only to escape—I will see to that, I promise you.”
Laura said nothing, turning to walk away. She heard Augustine’s low, mocking laughter following her, and tears of anger and unhappiness filled her eyes. Oh, why had she not stood up for herself? She should have given as good as she got, but the words had simply failed her and her lips remained foolishly and weakly closed. She had allowed the first victory to Augustine, and it must have been a sweet victory indeed, for it showed the new Lady Grenville to be painfully unsure of herself and therefore a rival of little consequence.
“Oh, you fool, Laura Milbanke,” she whispered to herself, “You fool!” She pushed open the doors of the main gallery.
Daniel Tregarron was standing by one of the windows, and he turned as he heard her enter. “Good morning, Lady Grenville, I trust that the night’s sleep was agreeable.”
“G-good morning, Doctor,” she replied, praying that she sounded brighter than she felt. “Yes, I do feel a little better, thank you.”
His dark, shrewd eyes rested on the unshed tears for a moment. “You have been to see Nicholas?”
“That was what I set out to do.”
“I take it that you have met Miss Townsend.”
“Yes.” She looked away.
“I am afraid that she means to reassert her place in his affections.”
“She has no need, sir, for I do not believe she has ever been out of them.”
“That is defeatist talk.”
“I have nothing with which to fight an opponent like her.”
“With all due respect, my lady, that is poppycock. In my opinion your beauty far outshines hers, and you have more than your fair share of charm—she has none at all!” He smiled at her. “Forgive me if I seem a little forward in my praise, but I think you are wrong to hold yourself in such low regard.”
She returned the smile. “You flatter me, I think, sir.”
“No. I don’t.”
She changed the subject. “How—how is Nicholas? Is there any change in his condition?”
“He is awake occasionally, but he is not aware a great deal of what goes on around him. I have administered the Jesuits’ bark for the malaria and have given him a little laudanum to lessen the pain he is in. I am reluctant to administer both treatments together, as in my experience laudanum is a very uncertain substance and it can sometimes react badly with other medicaments. However, at the moment I feel Nicholas’s condition warrants the application of both. I trust that soon there will be sufficient improvement for me to go ahead with the operation to remove the bullet from his arm. Perhaps I should warn you that Miss Townsend does not wish me to operate; she would prefer a more eminent London man.”
“But I want you to attend him, Dr. Tregarron, and I am sure that he would wish that himself.”
“That is all I need to know.” He smiled at her. “Thank you for your confidence in me.”
“You are a man to inspire confidence, sir.”
“If that is so, let me inspire you now to stand up for yourself where the Townsend cats and the Langford rat are concerned. You will not be alone, for you and I are both natural allies against them. You have a friend in me, Lady Grenville.”
She smiled at his neat description of the opposition. “Thank you, Doctor, I will certainly endeavor to improve on my first performance.”
“It was that bad?”
“It was appalling. I was so ineffective that I might as well have not been there. She, as they say, wiped the floor with me. My late Aunt Hazeldon would have been aghast that a kinswoman of hers could be so utterly useless!”
“Maybe Miss Townsend won the first battle, Lady Grenville, but she has not won the war yet.” He took out his fob watch. “Now it is time for me to go to Nicholas. Shall you come with me?”
“Yes.” With Daniel there it would be easier to stand up to Augustine—if she had returned.
To her relief, however, Augustine was not there. Nicholas was awake, but very, very drowsy, and his hand was burning when Laura took it. “What a poor husband I am to you, Laura,” he whispered, his voice very weak. His face was still deathly pale, the flush of fever confining itself to his cheeks, and there were heavy shadows beneath his eyes. Those eyes, once so penetrating and bright, were dull now and almost lifeless. “I’m so cold,” he murmured, “So very cold….” His eyes closed as the laudanum drew him back into unconsciousness.
Chapter 15
An hour or so later Laura left her room to go down to breakfast. She had screwed up her courage, with not a little assistance from the comforting thought that Daniel Tregarron would be there to support her. As she descended the staircase, she noticed that her instructions about removing all signs of mourning had been carried out. The footmen wore no weepers and the bowl of black-edged condolence cards had been taken away. She paused for a moment to look up at the gold ceiling of the vestibule. The Grenville sun in splendor spread its magnificent rays into every corner…. “You’re a Grenville now, Laura,” she said softly to herself, “Act the part!” Then she turned to the double doors of the breakfast room, and the two footmen standing on either side immediately flung them open to admit her.
To her dismay, the first thing she noticed was that Daniel Tregarron had not come down yet. Augustine and her mother presided alone at the table.
They sat at the white-clothed table and they did not even glance around as she entered. Augustine was leaning confidentially toward her mother, although the loud tone she employed was anything but confidential.
“The dreadful creature looked as if she had just emerged from her bed! Such a ridiculous sight; she is quite obviously not au fait with polite society. No one of consequence would appear in public in her undress. It was quite disgraceful. She can
only ever be an embarrassment to King’s Cliff and I cannot imagine what Nicholas can have been thinking of in Venice!”
Laura felt the hot stain of red spreading across her cheeks as she went to her seat. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and she could see the beautiful gardens and the cedar trees. Red tulips swayed in the gentle breeze and gardeners were tending the plants around an ornamental pool where a fountain was playing. In the breakfast room, refreshingly decorated in blue and white, there was a pleasant smell of toasted bread and crisp bacon. Hawkins, the chief butler, drew out Laura’s chair for her to sit down. Augustine stopped talking and the atmosphere immediately grew heavy.
Mrs. Townsend’s eyebrows were raised just a little and her face bore an expression that suggested she could detect a disagreeable odor. Laura glanced curiously at her. At one time she must have been almost as beautiful as her daughter, but now she was plump and had lost her looks. Her graying hair was powdered and her ample form tightly laced into a full-skirted gown of dull red and green brocade. A capacious mobcap rested on her head and a fichu of white muslin was tucked into her bodice. She had not moved with the times at all and was still firmly in the eighteenth century of her youth.
The silence continued and was so obviously calculated to be as insulting and hurtful as possible that Laura felt provoked. “Good morning Mrs. Townsend, Miss Townsend.”
No one answered. Mrs. Townsend applied herself with great vigor to a plate of sausages, and Augustine nibbled neatly on some toast. Like a rabbit, thought Laura savagely—a very supercilious rabbit!
“I said good morning,” she said, determined to draw a response of some sort.
Mrs. Townsend’s knife and fork were put down with a clatter. Her pale blue eyes swung at last to Laura. “I do not think we have anything to say to you, madam. Your presence here is decidedly de trop. I see no necessity for any communication with you, for you are beneath contempt and I hardly dare hazard a guess about your background. Until dear Nicholas is himself again, however, we are forced to endure you. Apart from taking our meals with you, which unfortunately cannot be reasonably avoided, we wish to have nothing whatsoever to do with you. Is that quite clear?”
Laura was astounded that anyone could without provocation be quite so rude. The woman’s arrogance verged on the ridiculous. Laura was determined not to repeat her mistakes of earlier and now could not resist the temptation of pricking the woman like the balloon she was. “Oh, it is perfectly clear to me, madam,” she said sweetly. “And it is also perfectly clear that if anyone’s background must be questioned, it is surely yours. Only a very vulgar person could have manners as frightful as yours would appear to be.”
With an outraged gasp, Mrs. Townsend stared at her, every fiber of her body quivering with fury. Augustine’s cool, elegant eyebrow twitched just a little. “Ignore the creature, Mama, for to do otherwise would be to lower oneself to her level. Now then, where were we…? Ah, yes, the court. Gossip has it that the Princess Mary is to marry the Duke of Gloucester. Of course, it cannot be a love match, for who could love the duke, and it is said that she’ll marry simply anyone to escape the queen, who is so ill-humored of late. I feel certain we will be invited, which will be some compensation for having to turn down the invitation to dear Princess Charlotte’s nuptials. If only we had known that Nicholas was not dead after all, we could have accepted…. However, c’est la vie, and these things cannot always be avoided.”
Mrs. Townsend threw a last venomous glance at Laura before returning her attention to her daughter. “The marriage of the duke and Princess Mary is hardly adequate compensation for missing out on the marriage of the future Queen of England, Augustine.”
“I am truly miffed about Princess Charlotte’s wedding, I had such a capital notion for a new gown—I was going to have it of that very finest silk and simply covered with pearls. It would have cost a fortune, but it would have been so exquisite. However, I will go ahead and order it from that dolt of a dressmaker, and I shall pray that she makes a finer fit of it than she did of the mauve wool.”
“She isn’t exactly a court dressmaker, my dear. I do not know why you use her. You should go up to London more regularly and order everything there. The quality always do; I know that I do.”
“She is more convenient.” Augustine smiled. “I shall be able to wear the gown at the summer ball. Oh, I’m so looking forward to it, for it will be quite the most impressive and lavish entertainment ever. We shall invite simply everyone, tout le monde—well, the beau monde anyway.” She smiled coolly. “I was thinking of being bold enough to write to Prinny himself; after all, he adores coming here for the shooting, does he not? And what a feather in our cap he would be—the dear Countess of Bawton will be positively pinched if we snap him up.”
“She would indeed, but my dear, if we invite the Prince Regent there will be so many other people who will have to come too. The work will be simply too much.”
“Too much? My dear mama, how can you say that? And if there are many others who accompany him, then what does it matter? King’s Cliff has always thrown open its doors to the ton and will continue to do so.”
Laura had listened in silence, but now she could not hold her tongue anymore. “Miss Townsend, I do not think that you should issue any invitations to anyone, for I happen to know that Nicholas intends to cut—”
“I think, Mama,” interrupted Augustine smoothly, “that I shall ride Lieutenant over to Langford Place this morning.”
“Do you think that wise, my dear? After all, he is such a willful beast.”
And will be ridden by another one, thought Laura, gritting her teeth. This odious pair were far, far worse than she had ever imagined.
“Oh, I am well able to control Lieutenant,” went on Augustine airily. “There are few horses I cannot manage. Besides, he is a good-ride, and will take less time to convey me to the dear earl, who simply must be told what has taken place here. If only he had come into the house last night with us….”
“It must have been a shock,” said Laura lightly, “to come back from all that junketing to find that the man you thought was dead had survived after all. Your light-hearted happiness must have increased tenfold.”
Augustine’s mask dropped just a little at the taunt, and fury flashed in her green eyes. “How dare you—!” she began.
“Have a care now,” said Laura, delighted at having drawn blood at last, “or you will sink to my level, and that would never do.” From the corner of her eye she saw the butler gaping that anyone could dare to speak in such a manner to the imperious Augustine.
With a tremendous effort, Augustine overcame her momentary lapse. The mask slid back into place and she turned back to her mother. “I believe that we must celebrate dear Nicholas’s salvation. I know, we will have the very grandest assembly possible. A masquerade! Yes, a masquerade is the very thing!”
“A capital notion,” agreed her mother, taking up her knife and fork again to finish the sausages.
“We can have those hothouse lilies all over the ballroom, and the golden lanterns in the trees in the park, just as we did when dear Sir Jasper was alive. I will have that excellent orchestra from Bath to play for us all and the iced champagne will flow like water!” Augustine’s hands were clasped in rapture as she gave her extravagant imagination free rein.
Laura watched the two women in disgust. Were they totally unaware of the dire straits Nicholas was in, she wondered, or did they simply not care? They spoke as if he was the most wealthy landowner in England, not a man facing ruin unless he made some totally devastating changes to the estate he loved so much. Either they were foolish and empty-headed, which she doubted very much, or they were simply callous beyond belief. Yes, she decided, they were callous, for what other conclusion could she come to after having witnessed their behavior the night before. They loved only themselves, attended only to their own advancement and own desires; nothing else mattered. But for all that, she felt she must try again to tell them that their ex
travagance could not go ahead. “Miss Townsend, Nicholas will not be able to agree to a masquerade such as you describe, he—”
Augustine’s expression was withering. “Come, Mama, I find the atmosphere in here disagreeable in the extreme.”
Their napkins were flung in unison on to the table, and Hawkins hurried to draw out their chairs. They swept past Laura without another word, the very picture of superiority as they rustled out in a flurry of brocade and muslin.
Laura sipped her coffee in silence. There had been many an uncomfortable meal over the past months, but none so unpleasant as this first breakfast at King’s Cliff. Augustine had promised to make her every moment a misery, and that was exactly what she had done so far.
“I’ll warrant your thoughts are worth a ha’penny or two.”
She looked up in surprise to see Daniel Tregarron smiling down at her. “I did not hear you come in, Doctor.”
“I am afraid that I was cowardly enough to wait until the two sourpusses had gone. My digestive system is very delicate and is quite put out at the least hint of fur and claw.”
“There was a little fur flying, and a great deal of claw, I fear.”
“I trust you unsheathed your own claws this time, Lady Grenville,” he said, sitting down.
“I did. It seems, however, to be the order of the day to treat me as if I crawled from beneath a particularly grimy stone—which as far as they are concerned, I suppose, I did.”
“No doubt, but then they consider anyone without an inherited title to be beneath them—which attitude I fail to comprehend as they have not a whisker of title between them.”
She smiled and waited as Hawkins poured her some more coffee. “Dr. Tregarron, how friendly are you with Nicholas?”
