Lady Allerton's Wager

by Nicola Cornick

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ All her horror at what she had done was in her voice. She could not believe it—could not believe her own behaviour and could not forgive him his. She saw Marcus recoil and knew that finally, she had the upper hand. She gestured towards the door. ‘Lord Trevithick. Please leave. Now.’

  She tidied herself with trembling fingers and watched as Marcus smoothed his hair and straightened his clothes. His eyes met hers and she saw that they were as dazed and dark with passion as she knew her own must be. Suddenly she wanted to throw herself into his arms, to make all well again between them, but she drew herself up haughtily and simply waited for him to go.

  ‘Beth—’ Marcus put out a hand to her, but Beth turned her shoulder and stared blindly out of the window. ‘Beth, I am truly sorry—’

  ‘No!’ Beth’s eyes filled with tears. She did not know whether he meant that he was sorry for his actions or for his earlier suspicions but whatever the case, she did know that she would cry in another instant. ‘I do not want to hear it!’

  She heard Marcus open the study door and she turned round quickly. Before he went there was something she had to say to him, something that had to be absolutely clear.

  ‘Lord Trevithick.’ Her voice shook. She could not help it. She took a deep breath and ploughed on. ‘Lord Trevithick, I intend to travel down to Devon immediately. Fairhaven Island is mine and I am going to claim it.’

  She watched with misgiving as Marcus straightened up and gleam of amusement came back into his eyes. He sketched an ironic bow. ‘Very well, my lady. You are going to Fairhaven. I am going to Fairhaven. We shall see which of us manages to claim the island first!’

  And before Beth could say another word, he was gone.

  Charlotte was very good. She did not ask why Beth had ink stains on her blue muslin dress, nor why her hair, so prettily arranged à la Greque earlier in the day now looked as though it had been dragged through a hedge, nor even why her cousin chose to lock herself in her room for several hours, emerging pale and wan for dinner. She patted Beth’s hand, told her that if she wished to discuss anything she was always happy to talk, and tactfully went off to the kitchen to confer with the cook about menus.

  Kit joined them for dinner and seemed inclined to quiz Beth over her pallor and lack of appetite, but a well-aimed kick from his sister soon put paid to his questions. He was more voluble about the use to which the fine dessert wine had been put in removing the ink stains from a certain blue muslin dress, but when Beth pointed out that it was her wine cellar he did not pursue it. Beth herself felt inclined to take the rest of the bottle and drink it straight down, but her natural good sense suggested that she would soon feel the worse for it. Besides, she found dessert wine too sweet and reflected wryly that if she wished to become intoxicated for the first time in her life, she should find a more enjoyable way of doing so.

  Beth felt miserable and as weary as though she had been awake for a week, but most of all she felt furious at the injustice of Marcus’s behaviour. To make wild accusations and not even do her the courtesy of explaining them properly; to give Fairhaven to her only to try to take it away again; to behave in a less than gentlemanly fashion—but here she blushed hotly even in her thoughts and hastily turned her mind to something else.

  After dinner, Beth sought Charlotte out in the red drawing room where her cousin was sitting placidly embroidering at her tambour frame. Charlotte was working on a piece of white muslin, sewing the hem with exquisite neatness, and Beth smiled a little as she remembered her own hopeless efforts at needlework. She plumped herself down next to her cousin, curling up and hugging one of the red velvet cushions.

  ‘Charlotte, I have been thinking,’ she began. ‘I intend to leave London tomorrow and go home to Devon. I know that Kit has business to finish here, but I have no more taste for parties and balls, and it would be better to be home in good time for Christmas.’

  She saw her cousin’s penetrating blue gaze resting on her and blushed slightly. ‘Well, there is no reason to stay…’

  ‘I know that you are doing this to avoid Lord Trevithick,’ Charlotte said calmly, cutting her thread. ‘I do not really understand the nature of your quarrel, Beth, for Justin Trevithick had too much delicacy to speak to me of it, but if you wish to run away from your troubles that is your affair!’ She fixed her cousin with a severe regard. ‘However, running away does not generally solve anything!’

  Beth hugged her cushion harder. ‘No, I know you are right! But I do not believe I can resolve my dispute with Lord Trevithick, for he is utterly indifferent to my explanations! Indeed, he scarcely gave me the chance to offer any! Oh!’ All her pent-up frustration came out on the word. ‘He is the most arrogant and tiresome man imaginable!’

  ‘Strange, when his cousin is so courteous,’ Charlotte observed, with a little smile. ‘Mr Trevithick is all that one could wish for in a gentleman of quality!’

  Something about her tone of voice struck Beth, despite her preoccupation. She gave her cousin a penetrating stare.

  ‘Charlotte, are you developing a tendre for Mr Trevithick?’

  Charlotte blushed. ‘Certainly not!’ she said with dignity. She bent her head over her tambour frame. ‘Besides, we are speaking of your concerns, Beth, not mine!’

  Beth had not missed the colour that stained her cousin’s cheeks. She smiled. ‘I would far rather talk of the impression that the gallant Mr Trevithick made upon you than the shortcomings of his kinsman, the Earl!’

  ‘Humph!’ Charlotte seemed put out of countenance for the first time. ‘I know you are only seeking to distract me, Beth! Mr Trevithick was very charming, but I doubt that I shall see him again. Now…’ she recovered herself ‘…you mentioned returning home to Devon, but did you intend to go to Mostyn Hall—or to Fairhaven Island?’

  Beth narrowed her eyes. Her cousin’s powers of perception were disturbing at times. ‘Well, I confess I had thought to visit Fairhaven first…That is, the Earl granted the island to me, so it is mine now! And though he now wishes to rescind his gift, I do not see that I should make it easy for him…’

  Charlotte selected another thread from the sewing box open on the seat beside her. ‘I see. So what do you intend to do? Take Fairhaven by storm and defend it against him? Really, Beth! This is the nineteenth century! You are not in the Civil Wars now, you know!’

  Beth got up and walked over to the window. She was not going to admit it, but there was something powerfully tempting about Charlotte’s suggestion. Things must have been so much easier when one could round up an army of retainers and take the fight to the enemy. Perhaps she had been born in the wrong century but, army or not, she was determined to claim her island.

  ‘It would not be like that, Lottie,’ she said, with more confidence than she felt. ‘I’ll warrant that there is no tenant on Fairhaven—who would want to live in such an out-of-the-way place? And doubtless the villagers will be pleased to have someone take an interest at last…’

  Feeling restless, she pulled back the red velvet curtain and looked out. It was dark in the street outside and the lamplighter and his assistant were making their rounds. The lamplighter had rested his ladder against the stand and passed the oil container down to his assistant for refilling. The boy was pouring oil slowly from the jug, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth with the effort of concentration. Beth smiled a little.

  ‘Anyway, I still have the deed of gift to Fairhaven,’ she said slowly, ‘signed by the Earl himself. It is a legal document and he would find it difficult to explain it away in a court of law—’

  Charlotte looked horrified. ‘You would not take this matter to the courts! Think of the cost! Think of the scandal, and all for what? Beth, surely you cannot mean it?’

  Beth turned back to the candlelit room. ‘No, Lottie. I would not go so far, but I do intend to claim Fairhaven.’ She pressed her hands together. ‘It is just that Trevithick’s behaviour has been so unfair and I have the greatest dislike of being bes
ted!’

  ‘I had observed it,’ Charlotte said, very drily. ‘Oh, Beth, can you not just let it go? If you truly do not believe you can come to terms with the Earl of Trevithick, then concede gracefully and let us go home to Mostyn!’

  There was a silence. The fire crackled and spat. ‘Does that mean that if I were to go to Fairhaven you would not come with me?’ Beth asked, after a moment. ‘I know you disapprove, Lottie…’

  Their eyes met. Charlotte looked pained. ‘Oh, Beth! Yes, I do disapprove! Most heartily! Why must you go?’

  Beth looked unhappy. ‘Because it is a point of principle. Because I cannot let him win!’

  ‘Those are not good reasons!’ Charlotte almost wailed. ‘Of course Trevithick will win! He is the Earl and he holds the island and he has all the advantage! You are tilting against windmills!’

  Beth’s mouth set in a mutinous line. ‘Perhaps so. But I have to try!’

  Charlotte screwed her face up. ‘Why? Such stubbornness is so unbecoming!’

  Beth laughed. ‘Stubbornness, impetuosity…Oh, Lottie, you have been trying to improve me this age! I do not know why you bother, for I shall never become more ladylike!’ Her smile faded. ‘But if you do not wish to come with me I shall understand. There is no reason for you to have to compromise your propriety just because I am a hoyden!’

  Charlotte pushed the tambour frame away and got to her feet. ‘What, am I to let you go jauntering about the countryside alone and in even more of a hoydenish manner? I shall go and start my packing!’

  Beth rushed across the room and gave her an impetuous hug. ‘Oh, thank you!’

  Charlotte hugged her back. ‘Do not thank me for being as foolish as you! Why, it will take us at least six days to get there at this time of year—’

  ‘Oh, no, only three! And the weather is not so bad at present!’

  ‘And the inns will be dreadful and the sea will be rough and like as not we will end locked in a dungeon! Oh, Beth…’

  ‘There will be no difficulties,’ Beth said, with far more confidence than she was feeling. She did not think that this was the moment to tell Charlotte that the Earl of Trevithick had indicated that he too would be travelling to Fairhaven, so that another confrontation was inevitable. ‘I have it all planned! I will ask Gough to formally register the transfer of the island from the Earl of Trevithick to myself, so there will be no questions about the legality of the situation! Gough will take care of everything!’

  Charlotte looked unconvinced. ‘It seems to me that there is every doubt! However, if Gough will deal with it, I suppose we may be comfortable on that score!’ She brightened a little. ‘Now, if we were to wait until your legal title to the estate was established…’

  Beth shook her head. She knew that Charlotte was right; it was the most sensible course of action and by far the safest. She also knew that the Earl of Trevithick was eminently capable of opposing her at every turn and that the ensuing struggle might last for months. And possession was nine-tenths of the law…

  ‘It would never serve, Lottie. I could be waiting for ever!’

  Charlotte sighed, apparently accepting the inevitable. ‘Very well! I suppose I shall have a few days on the road to try to change your mind!’

  Beth smiled. ‘I have it all planned out! Kit can keep the house open here for as long as he has business in town and meanwhile I will send to Mostyn Hall for some of the servants to join us on Fairhaven! We shall go across and tell the islanders that the property has changed hands—it will be exactly as though I had purchased the estate!’

  ‘Not precisely,’ Charlotte said drily. She looked at Beth with deep misgiving. ‘A disputed deed of gift is hardly the same as an acknowledged sale! However, I can see that there is no reasoning with you! This whole plan will go horribly awry! Mark my words!’

  On the first night of their journey the inn, the Castle and Ball in Marlborough, was of good enough quality to meet even Charlotte’s specifications. They had a neat private parlour, well away from the public tap, and a bedroom on the quiet side of the inn so that they would not be disturbed by the comings and goings in either the main street or the coach yard.

  Charlotte had wanted to put up for the night at Newbury and had argued that there was no necessity to push on to Marlborough, but Beth had been adamant that they needed to cover as much distance as possible. Their departure had already been delayed by two days, for it had taken far longer than she had expected to make all the arrangements for their journey. Firstly she had had to discuss her plans with Gough, who had raised any number of legal queries about the deed of gift. Then she had had to send a messenger to Mostyn Hall to ask the estate manager to arrange for a group of servants to be ready to join them on Fairhaven once she gave the word. She could imagine the raised eyebrows that letter would cause when it was received. Finally she had to attend to her own packing and all the preparations for the journey, which all took twice as long as she had expected. Then, when they were about to depart, Kit had expressed his severe disapproval of the plan and all but threatened to forbid them to go. The quarrel that ensued had ended with him telling Beth that she was headstrong to the point of madness and with Charlotte telling both of them that they were as bad as each other. It had not been a good start to the venture.

  Beth sighed. Downstairs in the inn parlour, a clock chimed seven. They had set off at eight o’clock that morning and had been travelling for almost nine and a half hours, with barely time to snatch a drink or something to eat when they stopped to change the horses. Charlotte had frowned at Beth’s urgency and both of the girls had become increasingly tired and irritable as the day had worn on. However, when they had arrived at Marlborough, a pitcher of hot water, a change of clothes and the promise of a good meal had made them both feel much better, and Beth was looking forward to a peaceful night’s sleep.

  Charlotte stuck her head around the bedroom door. ‘Are you ready to come down to eat, Beth? Our supper is on the table.’

  The most delicious smell of roasting lamb filled the corridor and Beth’s stomach gave an enormous rumble. She went gratefully into the little parlour and allowed the bowing landlord to escort her to her seat. The table was already laden with covered dishes, the candles were lit and the room had an altogether welcoming feel to it. Beth was glad to see that Charlotte seemed much happier now that they were settled and that the accommodation was everything that she could have desired.

  Neither of them spoke for about ten minutes, for they were far too busy applying themselves to the food and drink. Eventually Charlotte accepted a second glass of wine and a second portion of lamb, and smiled across the table at her cousin.

  ‘Thank goodness! I feel so much better! And this place is a most superior establishment! I was afraid that they would not treat us so well, travelling alone and without any gentlemen to bespeak rooms for us!’

  Beth shifted a little on her chair. Like her cousin, she was aware that their arrival had caused some curiosity, travelling as they were with only a couple of servants and without an escort. She knew that it made Charlotte feel vulnerable and whilst she did not believe that they were in any danger, it was certainly more comfortable to have Kit’s company when travelling. He had always been the one to bespeak rooms, arrange meals and deal with payment. Beth was in no way a retiring female, but she had not travelled a great deal and so had little experience to draw on. Fortunately the inns at which they planned to stay were all reputable ones and there was no doubt that her title and evident wealth were most useful in smoothing their way. She did not anticipate any trouble.

  The dishes were removed and a fine apple pie brought in. Beth considered another glass of wine and regretfully decided that it would make her fall asleep at the table. Charlotte yawned prettily.

  ‘May we travel a little less precipitately tomorrow, please, Beth?’ she pleaded. ‘I am shaken to pieces from the journey, for all that the coach is so comfortable! Surely we could stop at Trowbridge or Frome? There is no need for us to hurry in th
is madcap way!’

  Beth toyed with a spoonful of pie. She had still not told Charlotte that the Earl of Trevithick had threatened to journey down to Fairhaven himself and that it was her main aim to reach the island before him. When they had left London that morning she had been reassured to know that Trevithick was still in the capital—Kit had seen him at a ball only the night before. Beth had begun to wonder if, in fact, the Earl did not intend to go to Fairhaven at all. He had never evinced any interest in the island for its own sake, and his only aim had been prevent her from claiming it. It was a matter of pride to him as well as to her. But perhaps, Beth thought, it was not important enough to him to come chasing after her. Only time would tell.

  She reached for the cream jug and poured a little on to her remaining piece of pie.

  ‘I had hoped to reach Bridgwater tomorrow night—’

  ‘Bridgwater!’ Charlotte seldom interrupted for her manners were too good. This time, however, she was staring at her cousin with incredulous eyes. ‘Why, that must be all of eighty miles! Why on earth do we need to go so far in one day?’

  Beth sighed. ‘It is simply that I had hoped to reach Fairhaven as soon as possible.’ She avoided her cousin’s gaze. ‘When we last met, the Earl of Trevithick indicated that he was intending—well, that he might be thinking of travelling to Fairhaven himself. So—’

  ‘Trevithick going to Fairhaven himself?’ Charlotte interrupted for a second time. She stopped eating and put her spoon down slowly. ‘Why did you not tell me this before, Beth?’

  Beth toyed with her food, still evading her cousin’s eye. ‘I thought you would only worry if you thought we were engaged in some sort of race. Matters were bad enough as they were…’

  ‘Yes, but if Trevithick is going to be at Fairhaven that will not be so bad at all!’

  Beth looked suspiciously at her cousin. For a moment she wondered if Charlotte had had too much wine, but although her cheeks were becomingly pink and her eyes bright, she did not appear inebriated.