On this particular morning Emmaline sat in the garden with both her sisters, who were competing with one another to describe the horrors their dear children had undergone with a recent bout of chicken pox. Emmaline could not help but send up a silent prayer of thanks that her duties as nurse to her father had precluded being asked by her sisters to come and nurse their darlings. Nor could she help but contrast, with a pang of envy, their fashionable dresses of brightly colored silk with her own of practical checked muslin. Shining dark hair in ringlets framed their faces while her own chestnut locks, brushed neatly back, seemed dull in comparison. It was not that Emmaline did not care about her appearance, rather that the duties that fell upon her shoulders precluded the time needed to be so fashionable. And last night had been a bad one for her father, and therefore for Emmaline, who had to rise and go to his bedside three or four times before dawn. Indeed, the doctor had said, upon his dawn visit, that while there was no certainty in such matters, he despaired of her father lasting out the year.
Jeremy Barnett, coming into the garden unannounced, paused in the doorway to look at the young woman who was supposed to become his bride. With a pang he realized that the face he had yesterday been unable to recall was suddenly achingly familiar. How easily he now remembered all the times Emmaline had come chasing at his heels. Jeremy flushed, however, as he also recalled the cool facade he had always adopted to prevent her or anyone else from seeing how much he had needed such adoration.
At Jeremy’s shoulder Lord Barnett said quietly, “You must not be thinking Miss Delwyn is a dowd. Nothing of the sort! Generally, of course, she is dressed quite practically for nursing her father, as she is today. But I have seen her dressed as fine as any London lady.”
“Quite,” Jeremy murmured ironically, playing the London fop to the last.
Contrary to his father’s scornful belief, however, Jeremy did not think poorly of Emmaline. Her face was as graceful in repose as it had been mischievous in play years ago. Her eyes were clear, the nose delicate without being pert, and her mouth warm without being vulgar. Nor did his shrewd gaze miss the fact that her figure would, as the saying went, pay for the dressing. Indeed he was sure that given the opportunity, Emmaline would outshine her sisters with ease. Particularly when she smiled, as she did now at something her sister Caroline had said.
Barnett knew none of this, however. With a snort of anger at his son’s apparent rudeness, he strode forward, calling out briskly, “Emmaline, my dear, how are you today? And your father? Ladies, how delightful to see you again.”
Immediately, Emmaline was on her feet. “Lord Barnett, it is we who are delighted to see you. My father is eagerly awaiting your usual chess game.”
“Is he indeed?” Barnett retorted. “Well, I vow I shall give the old rascal a run for his money! By the by, Emmaline, this is my rapscallion son, Jeremy. You must have met over the years and I trust you remember him?”
“Of course,” Emmaline said with a friendly smile as she turned to the younger Barnett. With a pang of remembrance she noted his figure was as trim as ever and his clothes straight from the finest tailors in London. He was tall and handsome with dark brown hair she longed to touch—for her childish crush on Jeremy Barnett had given way to something more womanly. None of this betrayed itself as she said, “I’ve no doubt, however, that he has forgotten me. He is more likely to remember my sisters Caroline and Adeline.”
Jeremy bowed to all three ladies, murmuring polite greetings as he did so. Up close he saw nothing to alter his earlier opinion. The two elder sisters had been well enough in their salad days, but motherhood had thickened their waists and sharpened their expressions. With a smile he bowed to Emmaline and said, “My father has told me something of your circumstances, Miss Delwyn, and I can only regret the cruel fate that has deprived us hereabouts of your lovely company at social affairs.”
Emmaline regarded him shrewdly, her eyes twinkling slightly as she replied, “Come now, Mr. Barnett. I am not entirely a recluse, you must know. If we have not encountered one another socially, I suspect it is less from my seclusion than from your absence. We can scarcely compete, hereabouts, with the attractions of London.”
Caroline and Adeline’s eyebrows rose in surprised disapproval at the pertness of their sister’s reply but Jeremy was not offended. He turned to his father and said, “I know you must be wanting to go upstairs and see Sir Osbert and so am I, though I shall be quite desolate to leave such lovely company as these three ladies afford. Adeline, Caroline, you seem not to have changed in the least over these past few years. I can scarcely believe you are matrons!”
Reassured at this evidence of his son’s desire to be amiable, Lord Barnett flashed a final smile at Emmaline over his son’s shoulder and said, “Well, then, I do confess an impatience to see Sir Osbert. No need to take me up, Emmaline, I know my way well enough by now.”
“Nonsense! Of course I shall,” Emmaline replied with a laugh. “Caroline and Adeline will excuse me.”
Both gentlemen bowed and she led the way. Jeremy’s first thought upon seeing Sir Osbert’s bedroom was that it suited the gentleman perfectly. The furniture was of solid oak and built on sturdy lines, giving an impression of heaviness as did the draperies and carpets. Then he saw Sir Osbert propped up in his bed and he wondered if this frail fellow was really his old mentor. A moment later Emmaline stood by his side and Jeremy saw once again the familiar flash of humor in Sir Osbert’s eyes.
“Hello, Gilbert. Who is this young puppy you’ve brought with you, today?” Delwyn demanded of Lord Barnett, determined to make things difficult for the boy.
“Come, come,” Gilbert chided his old friend. “Either your memory or your eyesight is failing. You ought to recollect Jeremy.”
“So I would have,” Osbert retorted, “if it hadn’t been so long since I’ve seen him and if he didn’t look like such an absurd dandy!”
In spite of himself Jeremy laughed. “No, no, sir, you are quite out there! A true dandy would be horrified to be compared to a philistine such as myself.”
Grudgingly Sir Osbert nodded. His voice was a trifle kinder as he said, “Come here, lad, and let me look at you. It’s been too many years since you used to run wild here. Now I understand it’s London where you do so.”
Something caught at Jeremy’s throat as he remembered the days when this gruff neighbor of his father had been the only adult he had felt he could go to with his problems. The memory, long thrust aside, came back with a rush of the same affection that had been so strong between them then. “It’s been a long time, sir,” he said as he moved to stand beside the bed.
“Aye, too long,” Osbert agreed. “You needn’t have feared contagion from my illness.”
“I did not,” Jeremy said grimly.
At this point Gilbert coughed. “Yes, well it was I who kept the boy away,” he explained awkwardly. A muscle twitched in Jeremy’s cheek and he looked away as his father continued, “I thought, you see, when you were so ill at first, that the last thing you needed was Jeremy badgering you with his nonsense and troubles. I told him he wasn’t to call upon you until he could do so with something good to report of himself.”
“And that, of course, has not been possible,” Jeremy added, once more falling into the mincing tones his father hated.
Sir Osbert closed his eyes a moment. When he opened them again, he said, “I wish you had come, Jeremy. I wouldn’t have minded.”
There was a flash of something between the two men, one young, one old, then silence fell as all three turned to look at Emmaline. “My dear, please wait downstairs with your sisters,” Sir Osbert said quietly. “I shall be quite all right with these two fellows.”
With a smile and an uneasy feeling, Emmaline agreed. When she was gone, the two older men turned and looked at Jeremy and waited.
“Well?” Sir Osbert said at last. “Haven’t you something to ask me?”
Jeremy looked quizzically at his father, but his voice was mild as he spoke to
the man in the bed. “I suppose I have. We may as well speak bluntly, Sir Osbert, for it is clear to me that my father’s scheme is well known to you. He wishes me to marry your daughter Emmaline. Is that your wish as well?”
“Dash it all, boy, what is that to the point?” Osbert demanded with a flash of his old strength. “Do you wish to marry her? And will she have you if you do?
Once more Jeremy looked away. “As to whether she will have me, I don’t know.”
“Haven’t made good use of your time downstairs, have you?” his father observed sneeringly.
Jeremy ignored his father. Instead he went on speaking to Sir Osbert. “Do I wish to marry your daughter? How can I say? I had not meant to even think of marriage, just yet.”
“And Emmaline is not up to the mark of the beauties you’ve become accustomed to, is that it?” Sir Osbert observed shrewdly.
Jeremy turned and moved next to the bed again. He took the hand Sir Osbert held out to him, gripping it firmly. “Never mind,” Delwyn went on gently. “I know my daughter ain’t a beauty. But neither is she precisely an antidote. She’s had her share of offers, I’ll tell you.”
At Lord Barnett’s start of surprise he said, a trifle waspishly, “You needn’t look so confounded,. Gilbert! Just because neither she nor I are ones to boast of her conquests don’t mean she hasn’t had any. Emmaline turned ’em all down and I can’t say as I blame her, though I wish she were settled. Still, she’s a good girl and she would make you a good wife, Jeremy. But I’m not a man to force such a match on anyone. And were circumstances otherwise, I would say you ought to wait until you did feel ready to marry. But your father, God help him, is determined that you shall marry, and right soon. Nothing I’ve said will sway him and, frankly, I’m not altogether certain he’s wrong.”
“And you would trust your daughter to me?” Jeremy asked in a voice that betrayed none of the turmoil he felt.
“Aye,” Delwyn agreed. “If you’ll give me your I word you’ll not hurt her.”
Jeremy met Sir Osbert’s gaze steadily. “I suppose you’ve heard all the worst gossip about what I’ve done these past few years in London. I won’t try to tell you it’s not true for most of it probably is. But if I marry your daughter, I swear I shall do my best to please her.”
“That’s all I ask of you, Jeremy,” Sir Osbert said.
“Good. That’s settled then,” Gilbert said briskly. “All you’ve got to do is go downstairs and ask the girl to marry you.”
“All?” Jeremy chided his father.
Lord Barnett regarded his son levelly. “That shouldn’t be too difficult for you. You’ve quite the touch with the ladies, at least those of the demimonde. Charm her. Flatter her. Whatever need be. Just get her agreement and let’s get on with the wedding.”
Jeremy bowed and left. If his temper was not entirely subdued, nevertheless he managed it well as he slowly, thoughtfully descended the steps to the first floor.
Upstairs, the chessboard was set up and waiting as Emmaline had predicted. It was not until the men had made their first few moves that Sir Osbert spoke to the matter at hand. “Well, come, come, how did he take the news when you told him what you wanted?” he demanded, unable to control his impatience any longer. “Furious, I’ll wager, though he was pleasant enough here.”
Gilbert’s eyes took in the pallor of his neighbor’s face and concern etched itself upon his own. Nevertheless he rallied to say as he moved a pawn, “At first he was enraged and unwilling to believe that I meant what I said. I don’t doubt he could have cheerfully strangled me. But for all his faults Jeremy is a realist and so he came around to the notion soon enough. Indeed, I’ll wager Jeremy is downstairs right now doing the pretty with your three daughters. He can be quite charming with the ladies when he so chooses. Of that his escapades have left me no doubt.”
“Hrrumph,” Osbert snorted, retaliating with a knight. “Adeline and Caroline are already provided for. It’s Emmaline I’m worried about.”
“Yes, well, I agree. I am not altogether pleased that they are here,” Gilbert countered. “Caroline and Adeline are attractive young women, married or not, and I am afraid that by contrast Emmaline seems something of a drab wren today. Not that I think so,” he added hastily. “You know that I have the greatest regard for the child and think her worth ten of any other young lady I know. But I am afraid my son has been so jaded by the birds of paradise he sees in London that he will fail to value her as I do.”
“I have never thought Jeremy a fool,” Osbert replied equably. He paused, then added with less certainty, “But is he shrewd enough to understand that Adeline and Caroline have the luxury of indulging their fancies for new hairdos and clothes and frivolous things, I wonder. The sorts of things I should like for Emmaline. Or if he’ll realize that with a little pampering she could well outshine her sisters. Certainly if one is considering kindness and consideration and intelligence, she already does. Will your young son think so?”
Gilbert looked down at the chessboard, chin in hand. “Perhaps. But whether he does or not I have made it clear to the boy that I have the means to compel him to marry. And that I should favor a match with your daughter.”
Reluctantly Osbert nodded. “Aye, and I’ll admit I’ve always had an affection for Jeremy myself. But what you tell me about his latest adventures fills me with misgivings. Still, it may answer. I cannot imagine any man resisting Emmaline’s good nature.”
Gilbert patted his friend’s hand, then moved his queen. “Jeremy will not, I’ll see to that. If need be, I’ll send the boy away and look after Emmaline myself,” he concluded grimly.
Sir Osbert looked distressed. “You know,” he said, “I cannot bring myself to think Jeremy is really all that bad. He’s just fallen in with the wrong company and Emmaline may be just what he needs to bring him round again.”
“I think it more likely that he’s gone looking for the wrong company,” Gilbert countered. “But I hope you may be right.”
Osbert moved a bishop. “Mind you, though,” he said warningly, “I’ll see them both together before I give my final approval to the match. Ah, but it would be good to see my Emmaline settled before I die. I worry about her, you know. A woman alone is not an enviable creature. Check.”
“What? Where?” Gilbert demanded, turning all his attention to chess. Moving his king at last, he said “You haven’t beaten me yet, old friend.”
3
NEAR the bottom of the stairs, Jeremy paused as he heard voices coming from a room to his right. A moment’s reflection was all that was needed to remind him that the persons speaking must be in the old-fashioned parlor he had always loved. He found himself wondering if there had been many changes made to the room since he last had seen it. Then his attention was caught by the words he overheard and cold rage washed over him.
Emmaline and her sisters had come into the parlor while the Barnetts were upstairs and Adeline and Caroline were now all aflutter. “Such a dreadful reputation,” Adeline said tremulously.
“Yes, but as handsome as ever.” Caroline sighed. “Mind you, I love my Frederick dearly but I confess I have always felt a fondness for Jeremy. Do you remember when he danced at our come out balls here at the house?”
“You were too young for that, Emmaline, but he was the most excellent of dancers,” Adeline agreed with a condescending smile. “If not the most polite. He had a way of poking fun at one that was horrid.”
“I have always found him kind enough,” Emmaline replied tranquilly.
“Oh, pooh!” Caroline scoffed. “You were always at his heels and he was always chasing you away. Always chasing all of us away, for that matter. Sometimes I used to think that the only ones of us he liked were Mama and Papa.”
Remembering how a strong arm had steadied her in the rain that fell the day they buried her mother and the curtness with which he had then bid her farewell, Emmaline could not entirely disagree. Nevertheless she said, “Yes, but there were times when he did not chase us aw
ay. Once he even took me fishing. He would have taken you as well had you wished to go. And when my favorite doll was broken, he contrived to mend her.”
“More than likely he was the one who broke it,” Adeline countered, conveniently forgetting that it had actually been she who had done it in a fit of sisterly jealousy.
“I wonder why he came to call upon Papa,” Caroline said eagerly. “Do you suppose he has come down from London in disgrace?”
Adeline sniffed. “I haven’t a doubt of it. And why he should be bothering Papa I cannot imagine.”
This, however, was too much for Emmaline. “Papa wished to see him,” she said firmly. “Indeed, I shouldn’t be surprised if Papa invited him to come and call.”
“Oh, Emmaline, you have always made excuses for the fellow,” Adeline said impatiently.
“Yes,” Caroline echoed. “Next we shall be expecting to hear the news of your betrothal to Jeremy Barnett!” she added with a malicious titter.
This notion seemed so exquisitely absurd that it sent the two sisters into gales of laughter. At this moment Jeremy entered the parlor and said in his mincing voice, “My, my, the two of you grow more shrill with each passing year. Is that why you take refuge here instead of with your husbands?” Shooting dagger glances at young Barnett, the two sisters rose. In a frosty voice Adeline said, “My dear Emmaline, we must be going. Hubert is expecting me, and Frederick is expecting Caroline back in time for lunch. We shall call upon you next week as always. Mr. Barnett, good day. How unfortunate that I cannot say it has been a pleasure.”
With great irony Jeremy bowed deeply and stepped aside to let the ladies pass. When Emmaline had seen them out to their carriage she returned to the parlor where Jeremy was still waiting for her. In a mild voice she said, “Must you offend them always? After all we are no longer children to forever be at daggers drawn.”
Jeremy had been playing with the cord of a well-remembered curtain and now he let it fall as he faced Emmaline. “It has been some time since I was a child,” he said curtly. He knew, however, as well as she how badly he had behaved and already he was regretting it. The mincing voice was gone as he added, “Forgive me. My wretched tongue. But I have never been able to abide fools.”
The Counterfeit Betrothal Page 2
