“I think I would have had more reason to be on my guard in the old Lord’s presence than I have in this one’s!” said Mrs Mayfield unexpectedly. “It seems most unjust to blame a man for the sins of his father. Edward never gave us any cause to doubt him, and his father was hardly a saint. Why should his cousin Jack be any different?”
“Well said, Mama!” Charity exclaimed impetuously, and Mrs Mayfield blushed.
“You agree with Lady Leydon, then, that I should call on him and invite him to our party?” Sir Humphrey asked.
“Certainly I do,” said Mrs Mayfield firmly. “It wouldn’t be right to condemn him without even having met him. And I found him charming.”
“If that’s your view, ma’am, I shall call upon him tomorrow morning,” Sir Humphrey declared, despite his continuing personal misgivings. He took his leave of them soon after that, but he left Charity at least with a number of unanswered questions.
“Good morning, Mr Guthrie. How are you today?” Charity asked as the land agent rode by.
She was sitting on the same gate which had caused all the trouble on the day of the hunt, and the land agent had been too engrossed in his thoughts to notice she was there until she spoke.
“Miss Charity! Don’t you know better than to go startling a man like that?” he reproved her. “I’ve been worse. How about yourself?”
“I’ve been worse too,” Charity replied. “How do you like your new master? Isn’t it a good thing he gave Jerry the lease?”
“A very good thing. And how did you know that?” Mr Guthrie looked at her suspiciously.
“I showed him the way to the Burdens’,” Charity explained.
“Did you, indeed? I didn’t think you’d met the man.”
“Mr Guthrie! Haven’t you been listening to the local gossip recently?” Charity looked shocked. “I’ve met him twice.” She conveniently forgot the occasion when he had witnessed her quarrel with Owen over the gate.
“First he came to visit us with a message from Edward, only Mama was out,” she continued unblushingly. “Then he was riding by on the way to the Burdens’ and noticed me in the garden. Naturally I invited him in to meet Mama. He seems to be a great improvement on Harry.”
She twirled the hazel twig she held in her hands as she spoke. With the blue sky behind her, and her hood thrown back carelessly from her dark curls, she looked the picture of innocence, but Mr Guthrie was not deceived.
“That’s your opinion, is it?” he said drily.
“Certainly.” Charity smiled at him ravishingly. Then she threw the twig away and jumped down from the gate. Mr Guthrie sighed ostentatiously and dismounted painfully.
“I’m too old for all this climbing on and off horses,” he complained.
“I never asked you to get down,” Charity pointed out.
“Mebbe not, but I’ll get a crick in my neck if I try and talk to you from up there.”
“How did you know I wanted to talk to you?” Charity asked, just as if she hadn’t been sitting on the gate for the last forty-five minutes, waiting for the land agent to pass by. Mr Guthrie didn’t deign to reply, and after a moment Charity laughed.
“I did want to ask you something,” she admitted. “You were here when Richard left. Why did Lord Riversleigh disown him? Did he do something dreadful?”
“I couldn’t say. I was never admitted into his lordship’s confidence,” the land agent replied, his manner colder than usual when speaking to Charity.
“But you do know,” said Charity, undaunted. “After knowing the late Lord Riversleigh, and having met the new one, I can’t believe it was anything to Richard’s discredit, but that’s what everyone will think—unless they know the truth.”
“I dare say that’s what they’ll think anyway,” Guthrie replied. “And why are you so concerned?”
“I don’t know,” said Charity, rather disconcerted to find herself blushing. “But I don’t think it’s fair if people think badly of a man for something his father didn’t even do,” she added hastily as she met the land agent’s shrewd gaze.
“No.” Guthrie looked down at Charity thoughtfully. “No, you wouldn’t.” He hesitated, and then seemed to make up his mind. “You’re quite right, of course,” he said. “Richard never did anything wrong. There was no scandal. That’s the pity of it, the grievous pity. He wasn’t like Harry. He fathered no bastards and ran up no debts he couldn’t pay. He didn’t cheat…” The land agent caught himself up.
“Cheat!” Charity exclaimed. “Did Harry cheat?”
“That’s another story, and nothing to do with Richard. Don’t you go repeating it.” Guthrie looked annoyed with himself. “Where was I?”
“There was no scandal,” Charity prompted him.
“No,” said Guthrie. “But Richard never could get on with his father. He was a man who couldn’t abide to see things done badly, and he hated cruelty. I mind the time I was talking in West Street with him when we saw a horse struggling to pull a cart it couldn’t shift because the wheels were locked. The idiot carter hadn’t even bothered to get down and look. You should have heard what Richard said to the man.” Guthrie smiled reminiscently.
“So what happened?” Charity asked.
“Well, he didn’t like his father’s methods. He wanted improvements carried out at Riversleigh. He was a great believer in finding a better way of doing a job. Lord Riversleigh hated it—so did Harry. I think it was Harry who started that last quarrel; he always liked making trouble for Richard. I can’t even remember what it was about—nothing important. But it was the last straw; Richard left that day and never returned. Lord Riversleigh gave orders that his name was never to be mentioned again. He was dead. I think Richard was glad to go. He’d given up any idea of trying his schemes at Riversleigh, and there was nothing else for him there—except his mother.”
“His mother!” Charity exclaimed. “What did she have to say about all this?”
“Very little. She was a quiet little woman, very much afraid of her husband. But she was brave enough to go with me in secret to see Richard in London. He couldn’t come to her, you see. He’d sworn never to set foot on Riversleigh land again.”
“Good heavens!” said Charity. “What a terrible thing! Poor Lady Riversleigh. How could she bear it?”
“I don’t think she could,” said Guthrie sombrely. “She died two years later. I’ve always believed it was grief that killed her.”
“Why did you stay?” Charity demanded suddenly. “Why did you work for that…that monster?”
“For Lady Riversleigh’s sake at first. She trusted me to take her to Richard, d’y’see? And later…habit.” The land agent shrugged.
Charity looked at him steadily for a moment. “Habit?” she said at last.
“Aye. And there was my wife: she came from these parts, she didn’t want to leave. Besides…there were others who couldn’t leave and I’d a foolish notion I ought to do my best for them.” Guthrie looked half ashamed of his confession.
Charity smiled suddenly. “You’re a good man,” she said. “I’m glad I know you.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek before he knew what she was about.
He flushed and mumbled with embarrassment.
“Did Richard meet his wife after he left Riversleigh?” Charity asked.
“Indeed he did. She never caused the breach with his father. It would be a wicked thing to suggest!” the land agent declared hotly, and from his immediate response Charity suspected he wasn’t as unacquainted with the rumours as he might like her to imagine.
“I met her a couple of times. She was a lovely girl,” he continued. “Half-French she was, and none the worse for it. Her grandfather on her mother’s side was a Huguenot who’d come to England to escape persecution in his own land. She’d be much older now, of course. But I always thought Richard had done well for himself. Blood and birth don’t count for everything, not by a long way.”
“I never thought they did,” Charity replied quietly. “Did H
arry know Richard was married?”
“Oh, yes.” Guthrie smiled grimly. “That’s why he never married himself. It was his revenge on the old Lord. Lord Riversleigh dreaded the thought that Richard might one day inherit and Harry tormented him with it. He told me once that he’d wed the day the old man was finally in his grave—but not before.”
“What a hideous pair!” Charity exclaimed. “Why did Harry hate his father so much?”
“That’s a different story, and not one you need to know,” Guthrie said. He gathered up the reins and prepared to climb up on his horse again. “As for the present Lord, I don’t think you need worry about him. By all I can see, he’s well able to take care of himself. I don’t think a few unfounded rumours are going to upset him.”
“You are pleased he’s come, aren’t you?” Charity said.
“Aye.” Mr Guthrie settled himself more comfortably in the saddle. “Aye, I reckon it’ll be a grand thing for Riversleigh. Mind, it’s early days yet,” he added with his customary caution. “Anything could happen. I’ll be saying good day to you, Miss Charity. I have a great deal to do this morning.”
“Of course, I didn’t mean to hold you up,” she smiled up at him. “Mr Guthrie, if anyone mentions the matter to you again, will you put them right?”
“Are you asking me to indulge in idle gossip?” the land agent asked austerely.
“No,” she said quietly. “But so few people remember what really happened—even Sir Humphrey believes the rumours that Richard was disgraced. Don’t you think his friends, those who remember him, have a duty to defend him?”
For a moment Guthrie stared down at her, then he said slowly, “Sometimes you’re a very daunting young woman. Don’t you think you’ve troubles enough of your own without taking up cudgels in defence of a stranger and a long-dead man?”
“Perhaps.” She smiled wistfully, almost sadly. “But I’d like to think someone might do the same for me, or my family—if it was necessary.”
“We do, my dear,” said the land agent, speaking gruffly because he knew what people were saying about Mr Mayfield and he was distressed for Charity and her mother.
He couldn’t tell her that he’d already defended them vigorously, because that would only confirm her obvious suspicions that her family was the subject of unkind gossip. But he could tell her that he’d defended Richard and perhaps, in the circumstances, that would do just as well.
“If you must know,” he said, sounding as if he were speaking against his will, because that was what she’d expect, “if you must know, I’ve spoken out already against the lies I’ve heard about Richard. But the real scandal-mongers lie outside my circle. I can’t confront them.”
“No, I know,” Charity replied, thinking how it was Lord Travers who had played such a part in prejudicing Sir Humphrey against Jack Riversleigh and his father. “I’m sorry, Mr Guthrie,” she continued. “I should have known you wouldn’t stay silent.”
The land agent smiled grimly to show he’d accepted her apology, and clicked his tongue at his horse.
“Well, if you’ve no further orders for me I’ll be on my way,” he said. “And mind you don’t go startling any more travellers out of their wits this morning!”
Charity laughed and went back to the house, where she found Mr Canby and Lord Ashbourne’s agent waiting for her in the library. She spent the rest of the morning making arrangements.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I was so sorry to hear you must leave Hazelhurst,” Mrs Carmichael said, patting Charity’s hand comfortingly as they sat together on Lady Leydon’s sofa. “It must have come as a terrible shock to you.”
“It was a trifle…unexpected,” Charity agreed steadily, and drew her hand away.
She wanted to say that it hadn’t been a shock at all, that she and her mother had known all along that they were leaving Hazelhurst—but it would have been too obvious that she was lying. It was bad enough knowing that everyone was gossiping about her family, without giving them the added opportunity to talk pityingly about her futile attempts to cover up what had happened.
“You must have been so distressed,” Mrs Carmichael continued. “I assure you, I felt for you and Mrs Mayfield when I heard the news. It’s not even as if you have any other relatives to turn to; at least… doesn’t Mrs Mayfield have a brother? I believe he came to visit you a few years ago. But perhaps he’s back in India.” She paused interrogatively.
“He did go back to India,” Charity agreed calmly. “But I’m afraid he’s dead now. In any case, we have received so much help from our friends, particularly Sir Humphrey, that we hardly feel our lack of relatives.”
She glanced around the crowded room as she spoke. She recognised nearly everybody at the supper-party; indeed, she had known many of them all her life. Normally she would have expected nothing but enjoyment from the evening, but tonight she was afraid that there were too many people present who, like Mrs Carmichael, would make it their business to pry into her affairs.
Charity knew that some of the questions she would be asked that evening would be prompted by genuine concern for her mother and herself, but she had no illusions about Mrs Carmichael’s motives—and no hesitation at all in retaliating in kind.
“How is Mr Carmichael?” she asked innocently, before Mrs Carmichael could frame another question. “Is he not with you tonight? I was looking forward to seeing all our old friends before we leave the county.”
“I’m afraid he’s not well,” said Mrs Carmichael. She seemed slightly disconcerted by the turn of the conversation. “Are you leaving the district? I’d heard you were moving to Horsham.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” said Charity, addressing herself to the first part of her companion’s reply and ignoring the second. “When I met Mr Carmichael in the Carfax in Horsham a couple of weeks ago he seemed to be in excellent spirits. I do hope it’s nothing serious?” She looked at Mrs Carmichael earnestly.
“No, no,” Mrs Carmichael replied hastily. “A trifling indisposition—no more than that. I’m sure he’ll be recovered by tomorrow, but it wouldn’t have been wise for him to risk coming out in the cold night air.”
“No, of course not. But I’m so glad that it’s not serious,” Charity said brightly. “You must know that Mr Carmichael has always been a great favourite of mine, he’s such a friendly, genial man. He was so charming the last time we met, and very complimentary about my new hat. He became quite incoherent in his praise.”
She smiled blandly, though she felt a small bubble of amusement rising within her as she remembered exactly what the intoxicated Mr Carmichael had said. She didn’t blame him in the least for his excesses; she thought she too might take comfort in the brandy bottle if she were married to Mrs Carmichael.
“Thank you,” said Mrs Carmichael, her smile as insincere as her reply. “He’ll be delighted to know he made such a favourable impression on you; be sure I’ll let him know what you said. But I believe you were telling me where you’ll be moving to.”
“Was I?” Charity frowned slightly; she was feeling a brief pang of sympathy for the hapless Mr Carmichael. “I’d quite forgotten. How scatterbrained I am, to be sure. We’re going to London, Mama and I—did I not tell you? Now that we can leave Hazelhurst there’s nothing to keep us in Sussex any longer—we are free to live where we please. Ah, excuse me.” She stood up as she spoke. “I think Lady Leydon wants me. It’s been so nice to see you again.” She smiled politely and moved away before Mrs Carmichael could reply.
Well! said Mrs Carmichael to herself. Then, London? Who’d have thought it? She looked around for someone to whom she could pass on this interesting snippet of information.
Charity made her way quietly to Lady Leydon’s side, smiling at her old friends and acquaintances as she passed between them, and occasionally pausing to exchange a few words. From her demeanour it would have been impossible to guess that she wasn’t completely at ease, and only the faint shadows beneath her eyes hinted that she still had
n’t caught up on the sleep she’d lost two nights previously.
The room was very hot, and brilliantly lit. There was an ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a fierce fire blazing in the hearth and numerous candelabra standing on every free surface. There were even candles on the mantelpiece, their flickering flames reflected in the huge gilt-framed mirror that hung on the chimney breast.
Lady Leydon was standing beneath the mirror, fanning herself, and surveying her crowded room with satisfaction. She had never dared to hope that so many people would come to an out of season, out of town party, and she was savouring her triumph. It hadn’t occurred to her that she owed a great deal of her party’s success to the widespread curiosity about the new Lord Riversleigh. A curiosity which had only been increased by the rumours most people had heard about him, and by Sir Humphrey’s illconcealed doubts about the wisdom of inviting him.
Not that anyone had seriously believed that Jack wouldn’t be present that evening, of course, and most people were anxious to meet him as soon as possible. Unfortunately he hadn’t arrived yet and, as Charity threaded her way across the crowded floor towards Lady Leydon, she was aware of an atmosphere of thwarted curiosity. Life was imitating art, and the audience were getting restless as they waited for the principal actor in the latest local melodrama to appear.
Charity found it very distasteful, perhaps because she herself was experiencing at first hand what it was like to be an object of curiosity, and on at least one occasion she had been hard pressed to find a polite reply to a speculative remark made by one of her old friends.
She glanced around, noticing that her mother was deep in conversation with Lady Dalrymple, a dowager who lived to the north of Horsham. Then she reached Lady Leydon’s side and smiled at her hostess.
“Ah, Charity!” Lady Leydon exclaimed with simple pleasure. “I wanted particularly to introduce you to Lord Travers. Lord Travers, this is my dear Miss Mayfield. Her family have always been our closest neighbours.”
Ten Guineas on Love Page 9
