The Baron's Honourable Daughter

by Lynn Morris

  Elyse said, “Because he’s a man, and if he wants to go out riding in a rainstorm, then that’s all well and good, and if he comes down with a raging fever, he will still have the satisfaction of knowing that no one can dictate to him; he makes his own decisions, as stupid as they are. I’d like to think that women have more sense.”

  “I never get raging fevers,” Alastair said, “and I am going riding, even if every woman here thinks I’m an imbecile.”

  “There, you see?” Lady Hylton said with satisfaction. “There’s a man for you.”

  They managed to finish breakfast without Alastair and Valeria getting into another argument. Everyone went into the sitting area, but Valeria stopped Alastair and said, “Lord Hylton, there is a matter I’d like to discuss with you. Would you join me in the study?”

  “Of course.”

  As they left the others and went into the study, Valeria reflected how very odd it was that no one, not even her mother, took any notice of their being alone together. Young ladies were supposed never to be alone with men. It was the peculiarity of the circumstances that made it necessary, for in the past days Valeria and Alastair had spent many hours going over bookkeeping ledgers, tradesmen’s accounts, and Mr. Stanhope’s reports. It would have been ludicrous for Lady Maledon or Lady Hylton to sit in the study with them. It was still difficult for Valeria, however, even though it was perfectly proper. Of necessity the two of them were required to sit close at the desk, to go over documents together, and Valeria found that physical nearness to him caused her so much confusion she could hardly think. Now Valeria hurried to sit in one of the side chairs drawn up to the refectory table, and Alastair sat across from her.

  “How may I be of assistance, Miss Segrave?” he asked with his customary formality.

  Valeria hesitated for a long time, then finally said tentatively, “You know Thrale, my stepfather’s valet? It’s—it concerns him, and I—I have to admit—it’s such a—”

  “I’m sure I can help,” Alastair said coolly. “Please just tell me the facts.”

  This time his neutral tone made Valeria feel less uncomfortable. She told him everything, relating the conversation with her and her mother, and what Joan had told her, and her own confusion about the most just course to take. “It’s maddening, I’m quite at a loss as to what to do,” she finished with frustration.

  “I’m well aware that you aren’t going to appreciate this, but I must be honest,” Alastair said ironically. “No lady should be in this predicament, and it’s only Maledon’s fault that you are.”

  “Actually, I do agree with you. That’s why I’ve asked your assistance.”

  Alastair said, “I’m fairly amazed, and flattered, ma’am. I assure you that I can deal with Thrale. Now, you said that the maid told you that Thrale actually didn’t attend to Maledon’s dress and boots himself?”

  Irately Valeria demanded, “Are you telling me that the thing that bothers you most about what I’ve just told you is that he didn’t shine Maledon’s boots? That, in your mind, is the most salient point?”

  Alastair frigidly replied, “Ma’am, I already said that I’ll deal with him, and by that I meant that I will immediately put a stop to Thrale’s making a nuisance of himself with the maids. The other problem, as I see it, is his apparent intention of taking a holiday, as it were, instead of immediately seeking a new position. If I am to consider finding him a new position, which I assume is what you wish, then I must know his qualifications as a valet. If he is in fact not qualified for the position, then I won’t consider recommending him to a man of my acquaintance.”

  “But how can you consider recommending such a man?” Valeria said angrily. “When you know that he abuses young girls who have no possible defense, or recourse?”

  “I thought I would recommend him to one of my more disreputable friends,” Alastair said sarcastically. “But I wouldn’t consider it if he can’t starch a neckcloth correctly.”

  “Lord Hylton, you really can be the most exasperating man!” Valeria rasped, jumping up to pace.

  With a pained expression Alastair rose from his seat. “Miss Segrave, I must again point out to you that in Polite Society ladies do not bound up out of their seats and fling themselves about the room in a temper. I’ve observed that you never do such things when you’re with your mother, and so I know that she has taught you that ladies must be calm and composed at all times. I can only think that you must make a decision to keep your tempestuous emotions under good regulation.”

  “I beg you will not speak to me in such a condescending manner!” Valeria stiffly sat back down. “You have no right to dictate to me, sir.”

  “I’m telling you this because you will only do injury to your reputation, Miss Segrave. Surely you must know that what I say is true. Well-bred ladies don’t behave in such a wild, rash manner.”

  Valeria knew he was perfectly correct. She didn’t allow her temper to get the better of her in front of her mother, because she knew it would distress her mother, and it would distress her mother because it was, in truth, very ill-mannered to have temper tantrums, she thought with shame. Even St. John didn’t do such things.

  Still Valeria was infuriated by Alastair’s correction. Stiffly she said, “Very well, I understand and will attempt to behave in a more ladylike fashion. Now, may we return to the subject at hand? So you are inclined to find a position for Thrale?”

  “I was considering it, yes, but now I’m not sure, after what you’ve told me concerning his laziness. I know this is very difficult for you to understand, but the fact that he’s a nuisance to the maids is not really pertinent. If he were to be employed by a man who would keep him in check, he couldn’t do much damage.”

  “On the contrary, it’s not at all difficult for me to understand. I know that there are men like him everywhere. I just don’t want such men here.”

  “I know I may seem callous, Miss Segrave, but I want to assure you that I personally find such men abhorrent,” Alastair said evenly. “In fact, I see no reason why I should exert myself to help Thrale. It was more than fair of you to offer him a month’s wages. He has been here…today is the twentieth? He’s been here for six days. I will tell him that he can stay at Bellegarde for one more week, and then he must leave.”

  Valeria sighed and thought, Regardless of his personal animosity toward me, I am so much relieved…

  She said quietly, “Thank you, sir. I truly appreciate your help in this matter.”

  Alastair’s stern face softened a bit. “Ma’am, it is my honor, and my pleasure.”

  * * *

  That night after dinner Regina suggested they go to the music room. It was actually one end of a large room; at the other end was the card room, with its comfortable seating area by an enormous fireplace. They all settled down close to it, luxuriating in the hot snapping fire. The night was stormy and cold, but the room was warm and comforting.

  “Valeria, dear, won’t you play for us?” Regina asked. “It seems so long since we’ve had music.”

  “Mamma, Elyse is much more accomplished than I,” Valeria said.

  “I don’t think so,” Regina said gently. “I know you don’t like to perform, but I really would enjoy that piece by Herr Beethoven, the one you played for me and St. John when he was so ill.”

  Valeria considered her mother. That afternoon Regina, with Lady Hylton’s help, had gone through Lord Maledon’s extensive wardrobe. They had decided what clothing and accessories were to be given away, and what was to be kept for St. John. Regina had told Valeria that she had decided to give Thrale three barely worn suits of coat, waistcoat, and breeches, two top hats, an ebony walking stick, and a gold watch and chain. It had galled Valeria, but of course she had said nothing. Tonight her mother seemed saddened and weary.

  “All right, Mamma, I will play, but only for you,” she said with a smile.

  She went to the pianoforte, found the music, and began to play Beethoven’s Silencio. It was a long piece, and after
the first few pages Valeria found that she didn’t really need the sheet music; she had in fact memorized the sonata without realizing it. She played, and watched her mother, who stared into the fire with what seemed to be a forlorn, lost expression. But as the quiet, restful music went on, Regina’s face gradually took on a look of peace.

  When a person plays such tranquil, soft music, in some drawing rooms it becomes background to conversation. But here no one said a word. Valeria was momentarily distracted by the intent expression on Alastair’s face. He never took his eyes from her, and Valeria, to her astonishment, thought that he looked utterly absorbed—perhaps even enthralled—by the music.

  When the last soft notes faded away, there was only silence in the room for long moments. Then everyone started applauding, and Valeria rose from the bench and returned to her chair next to Alastair. Lady Hylton said, “Valeria, I had no idea you were so gifted! Now that I think of it, I’ve never once heard you play.”

  “That’s because she refuses to play, except when I beg her to,” Regina said. “And even I cannot persuade her to sing.”

  “That’s because I sound like the peacocks wailing,” Valeria said. “And I just don’t like to play very much. It’s not something I particularly enjoy.”

  “But whyever not?” Elyse asked. “It seems that having such a gift would give you great pleasure.”

  Carelessly Valeria said, “It’s not really such a great gift. Just about anyone can read sheet music and depress the correct keys.”

  Alastair said, “That’s possibly the grossest oversimplification I’ve ever heard. You played that magnificently, Miss Segrave.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Valeria said uncomfortably.

  He looked at her with a penetrating stare. “What is the real reason, Miss Segrave? Why don’t you like to play?”

  Valeria looked around the room. All of them, even her mother, were watching her with curiosity. “I—it’s difficult to explain, I don’t think you would understand.”

  As if she had spoken only to him, Alastair said, “Please at least allow me the opportunity to try.”

  Valeria frowned and finally answered with some difficulty, “It’s just that I can’t—lose myself in music, as I do when I’m painting. It doesn’t really touch me, it doesn’t—touch my heart, or spirit. Even though I suppose I am proficient at the pianoforte, it gives me no real pleasure to play, and particularly I dislike performing for an audience. It makes me feel like a fraud.”

  Alastair stared at her incredulously, and Valeria said with exasperation, “I knew you would not understand.”

  “Oh, but I do, perfectly,” he said, now with amusement. “It simply astounds me, Miss Segrave, the way you snarl yourself up in so many delicately obscure moral quandaries. You’re very hard on yourself.”

  Valeria said with arid amusement, “Oh, but I have never told myself that I was rash, wild, and tempestuous, and I have never accused myself of flinging myself about the room. That would, indeed, be hard on me.”

  Alastair rose from his seat next to her and made a mocking bow. “That is true, Miss Segrave. From now on I will allow you to punish you for your behavior.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “At your service, madam.”

  Lord Lydgate’s face was a study in bewilderment. “Do you know what they’re talking about, Elyse?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” she answered. “Perhaps we’d best leave them to it.”

  Regina and Lady Hylton exchanged secret, knowing smiles.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE FIRST DAY OF OCTOBER was crisp and cool, the turning leaves dazzling, from the deep blood red of the maples to the delicate peach pastels of the hawthorns.

  Valeria was walking alone in the Wilderness; and the thought amused her, in a glum sort of way. The Wilderness, or “wild grove,” was the oldest garden on the estate, enclosed by a high stone wall with an ancient sagging wooden gate on the west side. The most that the gardeners did to tend the Wilderness was plant shrubbery and trim and prune it to form winding paths, and copses and thickets where stone seats and benches were placed. Valeria was walking down the main path, which was bordered on either side by slender graceful beech trees. She was awed by the silence, and it occurred to her that here was another example of the thoughtful, artistic things that her stepfather had done. Several years ago he had had the gravel walks replaced by turf and moss. There was no hard crunch of gravel underfoot to disturb the tranquility.

  But Valeria was far from tranquil. Three days ago Lord Hylton and Lord and Lady Lydgate had left Bellegarde, for they were keen to return to Foxden Park for pheasant season. Valeria had thought she would be relieved, but she was not. She was at first baffled, and then irritated, at how much she missed Alastair Hylton.

  Hastily in her mind she amended, I miss Elyse and Lord Lydgate too. Elyse is near my own age, and she’s so lively and entertaining. And Lord Lydgate is so affable, such pleasant company. And Lord Hylton…is not. What is it about that man? Most of the time he was here, I was exasperated with him, and now I’m peeved that he’s gone?

  As Valeria considered, she came to realize that somehow Lord Hylton had, in her mind, come to represent all the men she had been in some struggle with, in one way or another, for the past month. First there was Trueman, then Mr. Broadbill, and Thrale. Even George Wheeler, the estate agent, had been reluctant at first to teach her about the management of the estate lands; Valeria had had to calculate exactly the right comportment—an air of competence and assurance, combined with dogged persistence—in order to bring him to accept her authority. It had tried her patience, but she finally understood that to take an active part in a man’s purview, she must be ready to fight for her place.

  It dawned on her that this was exactly what she missed—the battle of wits, and will, that she had continually had with Lord Hylton. They were always sparring, it seemed, and a small smile played on her lips as she thought that their quarrels were fun, even exciting.

  But the smile faded as she reflected somberly, And that just shows how very stupid I am, to think that I’m so clever that matching wits with me is exciting! Why, he must have been bored to distraction! I’m amazed that he was able to stay as long as he did before he felt it was decent to escape…

  And there was no escape for Valeria. She knew that her mother was in all ways the perfect example of propriety. Regina would stay in deep mourning, Valeria was sure, for at least one year. In fact, Regina had mourned Valeria’s father for two years, and then had been in half mourning for six months, Valeria recalled Craigie’s telling her. With a sinking heart Valeria thought that her mother’s code regarding mourning her husband might not be determined by the actual level of sorrow she felt. Regina might very well feel that she must pay as strict a respect to Maledon’s memory as she had to Lord Segrave’s. Valeria reflected that her own future seemed dismal indeed. She might be over twenty years old before she had the opportunity to go to London for a Season. The thought was deeply oppressive. How could she bear to be “buried in the countryside,” as the cliché went, for two years? Even now she felt so restless that she could hardly bear to sit still; sometimes she felt she wanted to just run as fast as she could, and maybe shout and yell at the top of her lungs.

  Wouldn’t Lord Hylton be appalled at that, she thought acidly. He would lecture me most severely!

  And so she started running.

  * * *

  Bellegarde returned to its normal routine, with the welcome exception that Lady Hylton would stay with them for a while longer. Regina decided, since Lady Hylton was more like family than a guest, that they would return to eating dinner at the early hour of six o’clock so that St. John and Mr. Chalmers could join them. Lady Hylton had said of the tutor, “He’s quite a gentleman, he could grace any dinner table. And he’s exceptionally good with St. John. You’re fortunate to have him, Regina.”

  “Yes,” Regina said softly, “especially now. I believe Mr. Chalmers has been more of
a comfort to St. John, in some ways, than either I or Valeria has been.”

  Regina, Lady Hylton, Mr. Chalmers, and Valeria were gathered in the card room after dinner. St. John had gone to bed at eight o’clock, protesting loudly that he wasn’t at all tired, while yawning prodigiously. Regina and Lady Hylton sat close to the fire, talking quietly. Mr. Chalmers and Valeria sat at a card table, but they weren’t playing cards. They were conversing—after a fashion—in German.

  “Acht alte Ameisen assen am Abend Ananas,” Valeria said haltingly.

  “Again, the ch after a is a guttural sound, much like Scottish, as in loch,” Mr. Chalmers said. “Air must be passing over your tongue in order to—oh, Miss Segrave, I do beg your pardon!” His face turned crimson.

  To mention the name of any body part to a lady was considered scandalously crass, but Valeria was hardly shocked. She laughed and said, “Mr. Chalmers, please. Instructing me in the most correct method of pronunciation is perfectly acceptable.” She repeated the sentence three times, and then started laughing again.

  Lady Hylton said imperiously, “Personally, I never found the German language to be so amusing, it sounds quite heavy and humorless.”

  “That’s because you don’t know what I’m saying,” Valeria said with delight. “I’m learning the pronunciation of ‘Eight old ants ate pineapple in the evening.’ Quite droll, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, yes, and it will come in handy when you’re next in a conversation with Germans,” Lady Hylton said. “You’ll be able to tell them exactly how many ants there were, and what they were eating, and when.”

  “You never know when the topic may come up in a German drawing room,” Mr. Chalmers said, his mild blue eyes twinkling. “It’s best that a lady be prepared for any eventuality.” He started writing down another sentence, and Valeria leaned close and asked him a question.

  Lady Hylton said to Regina, “Why on earth would that child wish to learn German?”