Mary clasped both hands together in delight. “That is what I have waited this age to hear. How do you mean to go about it?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
They talked late into the night, until Jim, despairing and suddenly uncertain that Lord Robert had really arrived at Greenly, knocked softly on the parlour door.
Lord Robert allowed the interruption in a rare display of amiability. “Jim, I am delighted to see you. Eversham’s man is excessively fastidious, and I’ve missed your cow-handed treatment of my neckcloth. Yes, we have been overly late I’m afraid. And Miss Fanley, here, is very likely to be late for her breakfast unless we send her to bed — you know how she despises city hours.”
Jim beamed, stammered his concurrence and slavishly escorted His Lordship to his hallowed chamber, leaving Will to laugh in the company of his sister. “You did not lie when you said Jim is making a great cake of himself. But I cannot imagine how you found him so devilish, Mary.”
She flashed him a heated look. “I find he is unaccountably civil to you. He has often treated me abominably! Besides, the country has softened him a great deal. When he first arrived, he never saw anything without having to stare down the bridge of his nose at it.”
They parted in a light-hearted argument over Mary’s shocking misperception of Will’s newly minted hero. “He is a great rake you know,” Mary said in a vicious whisper on the stair.
“Aye, of course I know it,” Will hissed through his teeth. “I ain’t green, you know. It’s what makes him tolerable, you ninny hammer.”
Late as the hour had grown, Mary laid on her bed in raptures for a long while before her eyes would close. Her brother had come home penniless but safe. Lord Robert had returned in a flurry of dust and horse hooves, with his piercing blue eyes ablaze with amusement and a fire she had never before seen in them. She thought back on their first days together, when he had seemed to have perfected the art of stifled yawns, and cast up a haze of unending boredom in those often cloudy orbs.
Still, the most compelling news of the entire evening was that she, Mary Fanley, who had been nothing but a housekeeper to her father, would have a commanding role in their adventure.
In the morning, Lord Robert joined her for breakfast promptly, while Will lingered abed like the adolescent he was.
“Where is Mr. Fanley?” Denley asked.
“Papa? He is off to the rectory to see to the poor.”
“Is that not the rector’s domain?”
Her eyes twinkled merrily. “Certainly, but my father does not think he is going about it in the most efficient manner. He means to…make a few suggestions.”
“I own I have never met a busier person that your father…” He paused and then added nonchalantly, “…unless it was his daughter.”
Her brows lifted in mock disdain. “And that is why you call me Rabbit. I own until you pointed it out I had never given much thought to it. I thank you for it.”
“That is not why I call you Rabbit. But if I have to explain it you don’t deserve to know.” Then, in a kinder tone altogether, he asked, “Tell me, Mary, have you never craved a different life?”
She replied with unabashed directness. “Sir, it is not my habit to pine for what will never be. A woman must satisfy herself with what she has, for she cannot saddle her horse and ride out to see the continent, you know. To dwell on a different life would be disastrous to me.”
His face darkened perceptibly. “So it has been to me. You have borne your lot with a thousand times more grace than have I.”
“Never tell me you have craved a different life?” she gasped.
“I have. But let us not dwell on what we neither of us can change. Let us dwell instead on these next weeks. I begin to have misgivings. I would as soon not put you in the way of danger.”
She sprang up from her chair as quickly as tears of protest sprang to her eyes. “You will not deny me!” she cried. “You cannot put me in the parlour to make lace and fret over what happens between Neville and Will…and you…You cannot be so cruel!” This last was uttered with such a note of desperation that Denley could not ignore it.
“Good God, Mary, do you hate him so? He has done a mischief to your brother, but rare is the man of the world who hasn’t had to learn a hard lesson at the hands of a sharper. I own that two thousand pounds is a fortune, but it is the veriest commonplace to lose such a sum, I assure you.”
She coloured and sat down with lowered eyes. “I beg your pardon, sir,” she said coldly. “I fear I will never learn the art of silence.”
“Be done with that,” he said impatiently. “I would know what has caused you such distress.”
She pursued her lips in defiance. “It is just as you said, sir. I have never longed for a different life. But last night it looked as if…as if for a few weeks, though I own it is only a charade, I will have an…an adventure…”
He regarded her in momentary silence. “Then I will not take away your pleasure, Rabbit. But I will not like to see you in the grip of that man.”
She was still flushed, but replied with dignity. “I am not a schoolgirl, sir. I believe you can trust me to handle Mr. Neville.”
“You are mistaken, Mary. You are the veriest babe.”
Her stiffened shoulders slumped under the truth of his assessment. “Then I will rely on you for my safekeeping.”
He took her hand and squeezed her fingers tightly, but said no more.
Chapter Thirty
By nuncheon, Mr. Fanley had returned, blustering, and Will had managed to awaken in time to break his fast over a tray of cold meats, buttered bread, baked apples and cider with his family. After Mr. Fanley had ventilated his enormous impatience with the “most stubborn rector in the kingdom,” Will casually announced his intention to visit the Himmels.
“Oh, well, if you must,” his father grumbled. “But I cannot fathom what you find to amuse you in their company.”
“Nor can I,” Denley interjected. “In fact, I’ve a mind to ride over with you. I must see these notorious Himmels for myself.”
“No Robert!” exclaimed Mr. Fanley, “You cannot mean it.”
“Oh, but I do, sir. I’m in the way to be their neighbour too, you know, and I have been shockingly remiss in paying my respects.”
“Well, so…I suppose it is necessary, but I pity you for having to make the connection.”
Mary felt the time was ripe and the intimacy between Lord Robert and her family would allow for an explanation. “You see, sir,” she glanced tentatively at her father, “many years ago they were said to have suggested, in the fashion of country-town gossips, that my father married my mother for pecuniary reasons, and we cannot forgive the slight.” Again, she glanced warily at her father.
“Well and why should we?” Mr. Fanley snapped. “They only ever wanted to be the first family of the neighbourhood. Shocking, specious tale-bearers! It is known everywhere that she was dowered very heavily, and he with the meanest prospects in the world, what with all his town polish and sojourns to Constantinople. No, Robert, you will not find a more overblown, self-satisfied family.”
“Papa,” Mary cajoled, “you have never known the truth of what was said or not said. This is the country, and you know how careless people talk. After all, mama was the niece of an Earl, and slow-witted creatures everywhere will think what they want to think. If she was an heiress,” she cast a furtive glance at Lord Robert, “what would it signify? You loved her! You have lived well in your sphere, with her alongside you, never flaunting your good fortune or showing yourselves to be overbearingly rich…”
“Rich?” laughed Will. “What a joke!”
“Well we are not poor!” expostulated Mr. Fanley somewhat perversely.
Will looked momentarily conscience-stricken, and Denley took hold of the opportunity to assuage his host.
“Well, you can count on me to recall the grudge sir. But I’m determined to be found a righteous neighbour and, what is more, to make my family the first in
the county.”
“Well, and so you will be,” Mr. Fanley huffed. “And they can sink back down into their rightful places as ordinary gentry, where they belong.”
“Oh, we will all be quite overshadowed, sir,” Mary said archly, “and I daresay we will finally be able to meet the Himmels as equals?”
Mr. Fanley begrudgingly adjusted to the idea, and, as he began to imagine the sinking of his archrivals’ pretentions, his own floated rather grandiosely. “Well, I will always claim to be your favourite neighbour, sir,” he said with amiable pride.
Denley stood and bowed to Mr. Fanley with great civility. “And so you shall always be, Mr. Fanley. Now, come, Will, show me to the door of these vainglorious rascals.”
As they rode down to the gate house, Will seated on a showy dark mare and the Marquis towering over him on his enormous Caesar, the young man dared to make comment. “I do not fancy why you love that horse.”
“Caesar?” Lord Robert affectionately patted his mount’s grey flank. “He was for my father you know, who is quite fat and cannot manage a horse to save himself. You would never believe the search for a beast large enough to bear him and tame enough to keep him seated.”
“But he is so…” Will struggled.
“Oh, he is a great big dog,” agreed His Lordship charitably. “I have always suffered with likes of Lucifer, you know. Now that is a mean-spirited beast.”
“But he becomes you, sir!”
“Which means you think he suits a notorious aristocrat.” He put up a hand to stay the coming protest. “In my heart I am a tamer man than you think, my young buck. I mean to be a country squire much like your papa, if it can be managed.” For a moment, a flash of worry crossed his face, but his brow cleared and he turned to pacify his outraged companion. “Come the ugly then? Do not look so stony. Just because it is what I want does not mean you must tag along behind. I have it in mind to suggest to your papa that you take your last year of study on the Grand Tour, and finish off with a sojourn in London under Eversham’s patronage. He will introduce you in the clubs and do all that is right, you know, churlish though he may be.”
This generosity much surprised and gratified Will. He basked in the glow of the idea, and shyly asked, “Would you ever think to go with me, sir? That is, if my papa agrees — which I verily say he will not.” This pronouncement depressed him instantly.
“Oh, he will let you go. He is not so much the simpleton you think him to be. But I, as your bear leader?” The Marquis laughed at the thought. “There would be many who would say that were as a curse on you boy. Besides, I’ve not much mind to travel these days. Let us have our adventures locally instead and take this Mr. Neville in hand.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The Himmels proved to be just what the Marquis of Denley expected them to be. That is to say, they were a large, happy country family. Mr. Himmel was all jocularity, and Mrs. Himmel was casually alert in all her manners. They were as far from pretentious as was Mr. Fanley. Robert suspected that in their household the snobbery and arrogance of Greenly was just as much an object as theirs was to the Fanleys. He took it upon himself to offer the olive branch.
“I am remiss, sir, in paying my addresses to you. Mr. Fanley has long been reminding me of what is owed to your family, and I beg your pardon for the unseemly delay.”
This inspired a properly generous response from Mr. Himmel. “Well, you can hardly be blamed. I hear you have a monstrous lot of work with your estate, and I understand you were travelling this whole month.”
“So I was, and on my return I determined to make myself agreeable and wait on you and Mrs. Himmel.”
So began the morning call. The Marquis was made familiar with all the children, who were called down from the schoolroom, and he met the younger son, Roger, who looked appropriately overawed at the introduction.
“My eldest, Jack, is with company at the moment,” Mr. Himmel explained.
“Ah yes. I hear that Mr. Oscar Neville is among you. I shall be glad to renew my acquaintance.”
That served as a proper inducement for Mrs. Himmel to invite all the Fanleys to dinner, saying as an aside, “Will, we would be much obliged if Mr. Fanley were to come, but I beg you will assure him he need not trouble himself if he does not care to come out.”
When this kindness was repeated to Mr. Fanley, he predictably grew outraged and all but demanded his right to go, whether they would have him or not! So in two days’ time the party struck out, with Mr. Fanley and Mary in the carriage and Will and the Marquis of Denley, resplendent in a coat of black with a foam of silk and lace at his neck and sleeves, riding alongside.
When he reached up to hand Mary out of the coach, Lord Robert said very casually, “You look very well without your housekeeper’s weeds, Rabbit.”
“And you look very well without your customary scorn-face,” she said haughtily.
To this he gave a low, satisfied laugh and pressed her fingers, saying satirically, “I live but for your admiration.”
“Then you’d best give it a little more willingly,” she said through her teeth.
“You are very beautiful,” he whispered in her ear. The ensuing flush of colour did indeed grace Mary Fanley with uncommonly fair looks. Even Mrs. Himmel gasped on seeing her. “Why Miss Fanley!” she exclaimed, “you are positively blooming since I’ve seen you last. You will cast all my girls in the shade, my dear.”
“Oh, that is not possible,” asserted Will. But the compliment was paid, and even Mr. Fanley felt himself able to be in charity with the Lady of Blevington for her attentions to his daughter. What remained then were the formalities with the rest of the family, and a salute to Oscar Neville.
This the Marquis of Denley accomplished masterfully, exclaiming, “Well, and there is Oscar.” He followed this dismissive greeting with a look of friendly contempt. Never unnerved, Mr. Neville bowed graciously and said all that was proper, but when he came to greet Mary, he said, unkindly, “Ah, Miss Fanley. I see your London company has done you a service. You do look uncommonly well tonight.”
Braced by the closeness of Lord Robert, Mary only looked vaguely at Mr. Neville and absently replied, “Indeed, we are better entertained these past days than we have been in an age, sir.”
Neville took her rebuff with a laugh, but he was left to observe how meticulous were the attentions the Marquis of Denley paid to Miss Mary Fanley. That same person, known by most of London’s female population as a mange-bitten cur, seated the country miss, proffered her a glass of ratafia, screened her from the heat of the fire, escorted her to dinner, doted on her every word, encouraged her to relish her turtle soup, and plied her with sweetmeats. When the ladies retired, his eyes followed her and lingered on the doorway to the salon. And during the interminable talk over brandy, during which Mr. Himmel and Mr. Fanley got along famously, he sat in a pleasant, distracted silence.
Being a calculating individual, Mr. Neville’s brain began to search for a reasonable explanation why the infamous Lost Heir of Devonshire would be courting a veritable nobody. His first supposition was the most logical and reasonable conclusion: the Marquis was seeking to bury himself in the country and thereby remain undiscovered by the law. What better way than to marry into the oblique domain of Greenly, where the Squire was famous for avoiding company? There were facets of this theorem that did not satisfy entirely, but he let the matter go and applied himself to being agreeable to everyone.
Only later, when Will Fanley approached him discreetly to suggest a meeting to repay his debt of honour, did Mr. Neville suffer real suspicion. He was known to be quick, and quickly he surmised that unexpected cash had fallen into the hands of his pigeon. Furthermore, the boy was no longer either raw or entirely green. They arranged to meet on the morrow in Hampton at the Green Man, on the square, and Will, throwing a look of obvious satisfaction at the Marquis of Denley, successfully instilled in Oscar Neville’s breast a slight burn of curiosity.
Chapter Thirty-Two
&n
bsp; Insolently late by half an hour, Oscar Neville strolled into the Green Man only to find that Will Fanley had contracted a private parlour where refreshments awaited him. “You are putting on airs, pup,” Neville remarked agreeably upon entering.
Will Fanley, who would once have flared up at such a moniker, had been carefully and thoroughly coached by his mentor. He only laughed and replied lightly, “Ah, yes, and that makes you the old dog, I suppose.”
Neville retreated into the polished manners that had always spared him from making incalculably bad decisions; he would not be baited into a show of temper by the likes of Will Fanley. He engaged in trivial, but entertaining conversation, for he would never appear vulgar by talking of money precipitously, even in the face of such a bumpkin as Will Fanley. While they sipped rum punch to ward off the chill in the air, they sat at a window overlooking the square. It was in this comfortable circumstance that Mr. Neville’s attention was caught by Mary Fanley emerging from the draper’s shop across the way, with the Marquis of Denley dancing attendance with a burden of packages. These he left in the care of a manservant left with the coach, before he led Miss Fanley into the millinery next door.
“That is a sight that must freeze your soul,” Mr. Neville said blandly.
“What? Oh, Lord Robert? Why ever would it? He is only taking Mary around to buy a rig for Mrs. Himmel’s party. Miss Clara’s to come out, you know, and Mrs. Himmel half-offered to bring Mary out, as well. It’s a fine plan, since my father will never be moved to do it. I think Mary’s prime for a dance, though she’s well-on too old to be the principal in a ball of that sort.”
“You can’t be such a gull as not to have heard about Denley? I myself told you he’s an out-and-out bounder. To see you condone his suit of your sister rather disgusts me.” This was said in suave accents, such as would have invited an adolescent like Will to burst into a diatribe of retribution and let fly a few salient details of what was afoot with the Marquis of Denley.
Grace Gibson Page 12
