06.The Penniless Peer (The Eternal Collection)

by Cartland, Barbara

  Please hurry South to join us and Papa is greatly looking forward to welcoming you.

  I remain, Dear Periquine,

  Yours ever Affectionate,

  Hetty.

  There was no mistaking the curl of contempt on Lord Corbury’s lips as he read Hetty’s letter. When he came to her reference to Sir Virgil he smiled, but there was no humour in it.

  He threw the letter down on the table and picked up the other one. He knew the writing only too well. It was from Fenella and he read

  July 11th 1817.

  Dearest Periquine,

  I feel very Remiss in not writing before to Condole with you on your Uncle’s Death and express my deepest sympathy for the tragic manner in which he met it. Please forgive me, but I have been so exceedingly busy these past weeks that I have hardly had time to think.

  You will no doubt see that I am writing to you from Brighton where Uncle Roderick has a most charming and spacious house on the Steine next to those owned by the Duke of Marlborough and Mrs. Fitzherbert.

  Such exciting things have happened to me since you left that I hardly know where to begin to tell you about them.

  Uncle Roderick has appointed himself my Guardian and has decided most generously to present me to the Fashionable World. He has given me the most beautiful gowns and you will be astonished, Periquine, to hear that I am a success!

  We go to Balls and Assemblies every night, and I have dined twice at the Royal Pavilion where His Royal Highness paid me the most fulsome compliments and even placed me on his left at dinner! I know you will tease me when you hear that several suitors have asked Uncle Roderick if they may pay their addresses to me! It is all very exciting and sometimes I feel I must be living in a dream.

  Take care of yourself, dear Periquine. We often speak of you.

  Your affectionate cousin,

  Fenella.

  Lord Corbury read this epistle through twice. While he was frowning the first time, he was definitely scowling ferociously on a second reading.

  For a moment he sat staring at Fenella’s signature as if he had never seen it before.

  Then he rose from the table so hastily that his chair tipped over backwards and fell with a crash to the ground, which made the attendant footmen step forward hastily.

  Crumbling Fenella’s letter fiercely into a ball in the palm of his hand, he walked from the room.

  Chapter Ten

  Lord Corbury drove into Brighton late in the afternoon, tooling his four horses with an expertise which made a number of people turn round and stare at him in admiration.

  He had been agreeably surprised to find such a perfect team of chestnuts in the stables at Corbury House in Grosvenor Square, and knew that they would undoubtedly be the envy of his friends.

  He drove up with a flourish to the best hotel on the Marine Parade and demanded a suite of rooms with such an authoritative air and was obviously of such consequence that the proprietor without a qualm of conscience handed over to him the rooms he had been keeping for the Earl of Dorchester.

  Having changed his clothes, Lord Corbury proceeded to Lord Farquhar’s house on the Steine and asked to see Miss Fenella Lambert.

  He was however shown into a study on the ground floor, where he found himself greeted by Lord Farquhar.

  “This is a surprise, Periquine, dear boy,” the latter said jovially, “we were not expecting you South for some time.”

  “I wish to see Fenella,” Lord Corbury said with the air of a man who is not to be diverted from his main objective.

  “Fenella is resting at the moment,” Lord Farquhar replied. “We are dining tonight with the Prince Regent at the Royal Pavilion, and naturally she wishes to look her best.”

  “When can I see her?” Lord Corbury demanded.

  “Sit down, my boy, and let me offer you a glass of wine,” Lord Farquhar said. “We have heard very pleasing reports of the possessions and the fortune you have inherited from your uncle. I feel sure they are not exaggerated.”

  “Not in the slightest,” Lord Corbury replied, “but there is a great deal to do. I have started on a programme of rebuilding a number of the villages on my Yorkshire estates, which at a rough estimate will keep me fully occupied for the next five years.”

  “That is good news,” Lord Farquhar approved. “As I expect you know, your Uncle acquired his Yorkshire estates from his first wife who was a great heiress. His second brought him the lands in Leicestershire.”

  “I had forgotten that Uncle Alexander was married twice,” Lord Corbury said. “I think his second wife died before I was very old.”

  “You cannot have been more than five years of age,” Lord Farquhar agreed, “and after that the Colonel found being a bachelor suited him admirably. With his wealth I can assure you he was never lonely!”

  “I can well believe that,” Lord Corbury smiled. “And now will you tell me when I can see Fenella.”

  There was a moment’s pause. Then Lord Farquhar said,

  “Fenella is being a great success, Periquine. I always realised she was very attractive, but I can assure you that with her looks, her charm and that joie de vivre which makes her out-standing among young women, she has taken the Beau Monde by storm.”

  Lord Corbury did not speak but his lips tightened as Lord Farquhar continued,

  “I do not mind telling you, Periquine, that I am besieged by prospective suitors, and I think we shall be very proud of our little Fenella before the end of the week.”

  “What do you mean by that, My Lord?” Lord Corbury asked sharply.

  “I mean,” Lord Farquhar replied slowly, “that I expect Fenella to make a brilliant match - very brilliant indeed.”

  Again there was a silence, and then in a voice which sounded unnaturally loud Lord Corbury asked,

  “Is it Waringham?”

  “Good Heavens, no !” Lord Farquhar replied. “Fenella had refused Sir Nicolas I understand, before you stayed with me at Ascot. But he is still exceedingly persistent. At times I cannot help feeling sorry for him.”

  “Refused him!” Lord Corbury murmured almost as if he spoke to himself. “I might have suspicioned it.”

  “No, it is not Waringham,” Lord Farquhar went on, “but someone of far greater consequence in the social sphere. Tonight, as I have already told you, dear boy, we dine with His Royal Highness. But tomorrow the Dowager Marchioness of Harrington is giving a Ball for her daughter at which Fenella will be an honoured guest. I should not be surprised if the announcement of Fenella’s engagement to the young Marquis was made during the Ball.”

  “I insist on seeing Fenella,” Lord Corbury said firmly. “If she is lying down I can go up to her room. After all I am her cousin, or she can come down here to me.”

  Lord Farquhar rose from the arm-chair on which he had been sitting to stand in front of the fire-place. He did not look at Lord Corbury, but he appeared to be choosing his words carefully when he said,

  “Now, Periquine, we both, as I well know, have Fenella’s interests at heart. I have no wish for you to come barging in at this particular moment perhaps making trouble. Childhood sweethearts and all that sort of thing often unsettle a young girl when she is making a decision on anything so important as marriage. What I would like to suggest is that you go to the Priory or anywhere else you fancy, but stay away from Brighton for the next forty-eight hours.”

  “Why should I do that?” Lord Corbury asked truculently.

  “Because I think it is in Fenella’s best interest,” Lord Farquhar replied.

  Lord Corbury rose from the chair in which he had been sitting to walk restlessly across the room towards the window.

  Having reached it he stared with unseeing eyes at the blue sea, his chin set in a manner which Fenella would have recognised as a sign that he was at his most obstinate.

  He stood still for quite a minute before he turned round to say,

  “I presume that as Fenella’s Guardian you would consider it correct that I should ask you if I can
pay my addresses to her?”

  Lord Farquhar stared at him in what appeared to be genuine astonishment.

  “Pay your addresses to Fenella !” he exclaimed. “But, my dear boy, the whole of Brighton is expecting you to marry Hetty Baldwyn ! Sir Virgil has been telling all his most intimate friends that the engagement will be announced as soon as you come South.”

  “Let me make this quite clear,” Lord Corbury retorted, “I do not intend to offer for Hetty Baldwyn or for any woman other than Fenella !”

  “Good gracious me,” Lord Farquhar said. “I quite understood that you were infatuated with the other young woman, and it was only lack of fortune that was keeping you apart.”

  Lord Corbury had the grace to look slightly shame-faced.

  “I admit to having found Miss Baldwyn extremely attractive for a short while,” he said. “She is undoubtedly a very beautiful girl. But when I came to know her character better and realised that her pretty head would always undoubtedly rule the vacillations of her heart, I was no longer interested.”

  “You have certainly surprised me,” Lord Farquhar ejaculated. “So now at this somewhat belated hour you have transferred your affections to our little Fenella? Well, Periquine, as far as I am concerned I forbid you, absolutely and categorically, to approach Fenella or to make her an offer of marriage!”

  He paused before he added,

  “As I have already told you, I have very different plans for her, which I am sure would meet the approval of the most ambitious Mama who ever launched a debutante upon the social world.”

  He walked across the room to put a hand on Lord Corbury’s shoulder.

  “I do not suppose your heart is seriously involved, dear boy, and I can assure you that now you are so warm in the pocket you will find any number of attractive young women only too ready to throw themselves without even a momentary hesitation into your manly arms.”

  He added with a smile,

  “What is more, if you take my advice, you will take your time in choosing one. There is nothing so amusing, or indeed so flattering, as being a matrimonial parti, as I have found all through my life.”

  Lord Corbury did not answer. For a moment he glared at Lord Farquhar with a ferocious frown upon his forehead and then without a word he turned and went from the study slamming the door behind him.

  Lord Farquhar went to the window to watch him drive away and as he did so the door opened and Fenella came in.

  She was looking extremely attractive in a negligee of oyster silk trimmed with lace, and her deep red hair, which had not yet received the ministrations of a hair-dresser, was hanging over her shoulders.

  She ran towards Lord Farquhar, her eyes wide and curious.

  “He has gone!” she exclaimed. “What did he say? Oh tell me, Uncle Roderick, I could hardly bear not to come down and see him! “

  “He has left in a rage that was quite intimidating,” Lord Farquhar replied with a smile. “After I had told him of my plans, he asked if he could pay his addresses to you.”

  Fenella clasped her hands together.

  “Uncle Roderick, is that the truth? You are not teasing me?”

  “No, I assure you, the words almost seemed to blister his mouth, he was so incensed.”

  Fenella threw her arms round Lord Farquhar’s neck and kissed his cheek.

  “I cannot believe it is true!” she cried. “Do you really think he cares for me?”

  “I am quite certain he does,” Lord Farquhar said. “As I told you when you were so unhappy, there are some people who cannot ‘see the wood for the trees’. It is only now that Periquine is afraid of losing you he realises how much you mean to him.”

  Fenella took her arms from her Uncle’s neck and put her hands against her breast as if to still a tumult raging there.

  “Do you believe it was my letter which has brought him South? Hetty is proclaiming to the whole of Brighton that she has written to him and that she is expecting him to come to her side post-haste.”

  “I think Miss Baldwyn is in for a shock,” Lord Farquhar said, “and I must say it will give me great pleasure to circumvent the greedy advances that Sir Virgil has undoubtedly been making in Periquine’s direction. He would have given him short shrift when he was a pauper.”

  “He would — indeed.”

  Fenella spoke in a low voice and then she said,

  “I cannot really — credit that Periquine — cares for me as much as he cared for — Hetty.”

  “That is why,” Lord Farquhar said briskly, “you are to behave exactly as we agreed. No weakening, Fenella ! Remember your whole happiness for the future depends on your being sure in the very depths of your heart that Periquine loves you.”

  Fenella sighed.

  “I will do what you have told me to do, Uncle Roderick,” she said meekly. “After all perhaps it was the letter we concocted with such pains which has incited him to travel here from Yorkshire, and not Hetty’s soft persuasiveness.”

  “I am quite certain,” Lord Farquhar said, “that we will have to play young Periquine with the skill one would expend on catching a salmon.”

  Fenella was still for a moment and then she said hesitatingly.

  “You do not think it — wrong, Uncle Roderick, to —behave in this manner? I would not wish him in the future to feel he was — caught.”

  “Wrong?” Lord Farquhar questioned. “I can remember my brother telling me he was not interested in women and concerned only with books. Then a very pretty girl with eyes like yours was continually begging him to translate the Latin names of flowers and plants in which she was interested, until one day my brother forgot his books and found that a pair of green eyes were considerably more beguiling.”

  “So that was how Mama managed to marry Papa!” Fenella cried. “And actually, Uncle Roderick, her Latin is just as good if not better than his.”

  “But of course!” Lord Farquhar agreed. “Most men, my dear Fenella, have to be persuaded or shall we say tempted into marriage. After all there are so many advantages in being free to pick and choose.”

  Fenella gave a little sigh.

  “I want to be sure — quite sure — that Periquine really — loves me,” she whispered.

  Dressing for the Dowager Marchioness of Harrington’s Ball the following night, Fenella felt so miserable it was hard to take any interest in her appearance.

  Even a new gown of white satin, trimmed with lace so fine that it might have been made with fairy fingers, failed to bring a smile to her lips.

  She had done exactly what her uncle had told her the previous evening, and now she thought his advice had been disastrous.

  Lord Corbury had arrived at the Royal Pavilion after dinner with a number of other guests invited by the Prince Regent.

  Fenella had seen him enter the exotic Chinese Salon and heard his Royal Highness greeting the young man for whom he had a warm affection.

  But she had pretended not to notice, and made a valiant effort to concentrate on what the Marquis of Harrington, Sir Nicolas and Lord Worcester were saying to her.

  Finishing his conversation with his host, Lord Corbury had looked round for Fenella and seen her at the far end of the room laughing gaily at something one of her escorts had said.

  The smile faded from his lips and there was a frown between his eyes as he started to move through the throng of distinguished personages to her side.

  Before he had proceeded far a voice cried,

  “Periquine!” and a hand went out to touch his arm.

  He looked down to see Hetty, exquisite in a pale blue gown which matched her eyes, her hair the soft gold of ripening corn, her red lips pouting up at him in a provocative manner.

  “I heard that you had arrived in Brighton,” she said softly, “and I was expecting to see you earlier this afternoon.”

  “Your pardon, Hetty,” Lord Corbury said, “but I have to speak with Fenella.”

  To the Beauty’s astonishment, he moved swiftly away from her side to leave h
er staring after him in perplexity.

  Directly avoiding a number of people who wished to engage him in conversation, Lord Corbury reached Fenella and she turned towards him with a cry of delight,

  “Periquine ! What a surprise!” she exclaimed. “I had no idea you were coming to Brighton.”

  She was looking, Lord Corbury noticed with no particular pleasure, very different from when he had last seen her.

  Her dark red hair skilfully arranged in the latest fashion framed her small face from which he noticed the freckles had vanished, and her skin, which had not been noticeable in her old faded gowns, was very white and lovely against the dress of apple-green gauze which sparkled with every movement she made.

  Lord Corbury had not realised in the past what an exquisite figure Fenella had.

  Now with the new tight waist which had been reintroduced into fashion and her small breasts clearly defined by her well cut gown, it was obvious that she was indeed perfectly proportioned.

  “When did you arrive?” Fenella was asking, “and how have you enjoyed yourself in Yorkshire?”

  “I want to tell you all about it,” Lord Corbury said in a deep voice.

  “Of course, I wish to hear every detail,” Fenella answered, “but at the moment I am afraid I am engaged for the next dance.”

  “Which is mine,” the Marquis said firmly.

  Fenella smiled at him.

  “I had not forgotten,” she said her eyes meeting his.

  “And the next is promised to me,” Sir Nicolas interposed.

  Fenella made a little gesture with her hands.

  “I dare not disappoint these gentlemen, Periquine.”

  “No indeed,” Lord Worcester said, “we have all a prior claim! And I can assure you, Corbury, we will unite to prevent any bumping and boring on your part!”

  The Gentlemen laughed at this, but Fenella saw Lord Corbury’s lips tighten.

  As she moved towards the ball room on the Marquis’s arm, she glanced back to see him looking after her and, if she had not been sure that her uncle’s advice was right, she would have run to his side to tell him he could dance with her whenever he desired to do so!