They made their way along the corridor, past the two girls’ rooms, and reached the door of the room the Miss Hardcastles shared. She would have scurried past, but he stopped. “So, this is where the governess lives,” he said thoughtfully.
“How do you know that?” Lucy squeaked in alarm. “I did not say so!”
“Mrs Price, you have the most expressive face in the world,” he said, with a little smile. “I shall not tease you about it, however. I shall ask Gussie about it instead, and see if she dissembles, although I do not know what can be so secret about—” His face changed, the urbane amusement replaced by excitement. “Unless—! Oh, but that would be famous! Is it Hardy? Miss Hardcastle? It is, it is, I can see it in your face! Oh, Lucy, how could you imagine that I would not want to know!”
“It is not your wishes that are at issue,” she said forlornly. “Miss Hardcastle does not want your pity, Mr Audley.”
“Pity? What cause has she to expect pity? She was always so strong in spirit that I never had anything but the utmost respect for her.”
“She is still strong in spirit, but in body she is frail. She can no longer walk, and needs her sister’s constant help. And they have but little money and wish for no charity.”
“Not even from me?” he said, and she could see the hurt in his face. “May I not help them, when I have more money than any man could ever need?”
“No one wants to be beholden to others, to be dependent,” she said. “My sisters and I could have lived on charity had we wished it. Our brother-in-law would have supported us, and perhaps when we are old and no other option offers, we will have no choice but to accept his aid. But I had a thousand times sooner earn my bread than live on the kindness of others, and so the Miss Hardcastles feel also.”
She could see the understanding in his eyes. “Very well, then, no charity. But there must be something I can do for them. Hardy made me the man I am today, and taught me to be strong in mind and steadfast in honour. I have my failings too, but they are all my own doing, as God knows. Still, I would not walk away from my former governess as if she is nothing to me. Tell me how I may be of service to them, Mrs Price.”
Lucy could not but rejoice in him. Beneath the carapace of a selfish society man lay a warm, caring heart. “You may give them your time,” she said. “Sit with them, talk to them, take them out in your fine carriage. And an occasional gift of tea would be very welcome, I believe.”
He nodded. “That I can do. Will they be at home to visitors just now, do you think?”
She left him knocking tentatively on their door, and returned to the morning room with a smile on her face, rather proud of Mr Leo Audley.
12: Letters (April)
Leo spent two hours with the Miss Hardcastles, reminiscing enthusiastically about events he had not thought about for years. They were delighted to see him, but he was glad that Lucy had warned him not to rush in with offers of money or other help. His tentative enquiries led him to the realisation that she was quite right in thinking that Hardy wanted no charity. She had her pride, after all. He ordered tea and cakes from the kitchen, promised to take them out in the carriage just as soon as it stopped raining, and resolved to buy them their own supply of tea at the earliest opportunity. He left the sisters’ room in a very mellow frame of mind.
This happy state lasted for as long as it took him to walk back down the stairs, for there in the hall was Tom Coylumbroke.
“Tom! Whatever are you doing here?” But he could see by the anguished expression on his friend’s face that it was not happy chance that brought him. “Trouble?”
“Phoebe!” Tom hissed in what was meant to be an undertone, but was probably audible to the butler and both the footmen who were hovering anxiously, awaiting instructions.
Gussie appeared just then, the introductions were made, a room was offered, which Tom accepted gratefully and in the business of arranging accommodation and luggage, there was no opportunity to say more. Leo accompanied Tom to his room, but the place was full of maids lighting fires, and footmen lugging boxes, and Tom’s valet fluttering round agitatedly.
“We shall be dressing for dinner soon,” Leo said. “I shall see you then.”
Tom nodded distractedly.
It took all Leo’s self-restraint to sit composedly through dinner, and the port afterwards and then cards after that, and make conversation with a smile. But at length, he and Tom were able to make their escape.
“Whatever has happened?” Leo said. “I thought the Phoebe business was settled.”
“Sadly, not. Mason came to the Castle, can you believe it? I almost expired on the spot!”
“Good God! Did he meet your uncle?”
“Yes, but he was all affability with him, and said nothing of his business. Mason is still after you, Leo. He has given me a letter for you. Uncle told me to bring it to you at once.”
“A letter? Why? And why did he go to Coylumbroke Castle to give you a letter for me?”
“It is only five miles away from Sir Ruthven’s estate, across country, and he wanted to make sure you get the letter. He does not trust the mail, I suppose.”
“Well, where is it? The letter?”
“Oh, did I not give it to you? Wait…” He rummaged in various pockets, before producing a rather battered missive. “There you are.”
Leo broke the seal, and read the contents impassively. “So that is how things are,” he said, folding the sheet neatly. “I take it you know what is in this?”
“No idea. Just a repeat of his wish for you to make things right with Phoebe, I daresay. Honestly, Leo, I never imagined the fellow would be so damned persistent.”
“He has reason to be persistent. Read it.”
Tom scanned the letter, then squeaked with alarm. “Good God! Well, that is a coil, and no mistake!”
“Indeed,” Leo said dryly. “Tom, I am very fond of you, and I would do a great deal to help you out of a difficult situation, believe me, but I will not marry a parson’s daughter on your behalf, one who is moreover none too chaste and now has urgent need of a husband. This is one mess you will have to deal with yourself.”
“How can I? My uncle would cast me off without a penny, and without my allowance I could not support a mouse, never mind a wife and child,” Tom said helplessly.
“Then you should resist the temptation to seduce every comely wench who smiles at you. I thought you had learnt your lesson last time, but I do not think Parson Mason is a man to be bought off. He will see his daughter wed or know the reason why. Frankly, I cannot blame him. Whatever were you thinking, Tom? Well, you were not thinking at all, I suppose.”
“It was not intentional, I assure you,” Tom said indignantly. “I had no idea of anything beyond a few kisses, but it just happened, somehow. If you want to know, it was more the case that she seduced me.”
“It is interesting, though,” Leo said. “She has not given you up to her father, at any rate, for she is still allowing him to believe that this is my doing. I wonder why? She must know that I will never marry her.”
“She wants money, I suppose,” Tom said despondently. “What will you do, Leo?”
“I shall write a civil letter to Mr Mason and tell him, in the politest terms possible, that his daughter is a scheming little cheat and a liar, and not at all the thing, and that I have not the least intention of marrying her.”
“Oh. Leo, you are a very good friend to me. Thank you.”
“That is all well and good, but you must be prepared for the worst, Tom. If she finally accepts defeat with me, she will certainly turn her eyes on you. And if it comes to that point, you would be well advised to make a clean breast of it to your uncle and ask him what you should do.”
“And if he cuts me off?”
“Accept it, and ask for his help to establish yourself in a career. He should do so, you know, if he chooses not to make you his heir after all.”
“You make it sound so simple,” Tom said. “It is all very well for yo
u, Leo. You have your fortune in your hand, and may do as you please. I dare not tell him the truth.”
Leo hesitated, remembering how angry Lucy got when he tried to flirt with her. “Look, Tom, there is great virtue in openness. Your uncle will understand perfectly well that you are young and, like all young men, you make mistakes sometimes. If you tell him the whole of it and throw yourself on his mercy, you may be pleasantly surprised at how well he takes it. Do not let him hear of it from Mason!”
The following morning, Leo wrote a carefully crafted letter to Mr Mason. It was an awkward situation, for no matter how he joked about it, he could not openly call Miss Mason a liar. He could only suggest, in the most roundabout terms, that she may be mistaken in the matter, and reject any obligation. If her objective was to wheedle money from him, she would now be aware that her tactics would not succeed. If her father had any sense, he would marry her off quickly to some local man and make the best of it, but Leo was very much afraid that Tom’s name would now be dragged into the business and then he would be in the suds.
But two days later, he was summoned at an unconscionably early hour to Kingsley’s study.
“I see you are up to your tricks again, Audley,” was the greeting, as Kingsley waved a letter at him. “I have here a communication from a gentleman of the church, who reveals just how despicable a worm you are. Here — read it.”
With a sinking heart, Leo took the letter and read.
‘Sir, It is with the greatest sorrow I write to you, but I feel I have no other recourse. You have under your roof an unscrupulous villain and seducer, who has dishonoured my daughter, a girl of but seventeen, leaving her in the most pitiable state ever maid could find herself in, yet he now refuses to deal honourably with her and offer her marriage. This man is, I understand, a kinsman of yours, and therefore I must hope that you can work upon his conscience where even I, a man of God, have utterly failed. My daughter is, as you may readily appreciate, distraught, and we are all anxious to bring this matter to a speedy and satisfactory conclusion. To this end I place my confidence in you as an honourable gentleman to prevail upon Mr Leonard Audley to do what is right in this dreadful case, before my daughter’s reputation is bespoilt beyond hope of recovery. I am sir, your servant, Theodore Mason.”
“Well, Audley, what have you to say now? I knew there was something of the sort going on when you arrived so abruptly in January, but I am shocked — shocked! — that even you would stoop so low as to refuse to honour your obligations to this poor child. Will you now do as you ought by her?”
“I have no intention of marrying her,” Leo said haughtily.
Kingsley grunted. “You dishonoured this poor girl, she is now with child, it seems, and it is your duty as a gentleman to make things right. You must marry her, Audley, surely you can see that?”
“Kingsley, you would do well to refrain from comment on matters which you do not fully understand.”
“What more is there to understand? You seduced a respectable lady, and must now offer her the protection of your name.”
“I repeat, you do not understand the circumstances, nor do I intend to discuss the matter further with you,” Leo said.
“Then I must ask you to leave this house at once, sir.”
Leo sighed, but he bowed politely. “As you wish, of course.” And then some mischievous streak impelled him to add, “I shall go and stay with my other sister, I think. That is a fine big house that Laurel lives in, so I am sure she will manage to squeeze me into some corner somewhere.”
To his intense interest, Kingsley blanched. “Oh, not a good idea, Audley. No, really, you must not.”
“Why ever not?” he said in his blandest tones. “It is an admirable idea, it seems to me. I shall be able to get to know my sister and brother-in-law so much better. Yes, that is what I shall do.”
He left Kingsley still spluttering in dismay, more than ever convinced that there was something being kept from him, and determined to find it out.
~~~~~
Lucy soon heard the reason for Mr Audley’s abrupt departure. Indeed, the whole household must have been aware of it, for Mr Kingsley was so incensed that he could not contain his ire. Augusta was in tears, and the twins were agog to know what it was that their step-uncle had done that was so terrible, for naturally no one spoke of it in front of them.
To their pleadings, Lucy would only say, “He has damaged a lady’s reputation, and now he refuses to marry her. This is why you must be so careful never to be alone with a gentleman, no matter how well you know him, or how respectable he seems, until you are at least betrothed.”
For herself, Lucy was shocked and disappointed. She had always known him for something of a flirt, for Augusta had warned her of him right from the start, but that he should behave so despicably towards an innocent young lady was beyond her comprehension. And he had seemed so gentlemanly, and had always behaved impeccably towards her. Mr Coylumbroke told her that the matter was not at all straightforward, and that Mr Audley had done nothing wrong, but she could not believe him. It was commendable in him to defend his friend, but there was a young lady, the daughter of a clergyman, no less, who must be believed, who said otherwise and had the child growing in her belly to prove it.
~~~~~
APRIL
~~~~~
As the weeks passed by and the weather and roads improved, the number of social engagements to which the twins were invited grew. A few families were going to London for the glittering promise of the season, but even in Market Clunbury there was a more modest season to be enjoyed, and so the monthly summer assemblies resumed.
Lucy was quite a part of the local society now, and looked forward to her first assembly with pleasure. It was now more than three months since Papa had died, and she felt comfortable setting aside the severe black for the greys and lilacs of half mourning. She could wear a little more jewellery too, and although she would still not dance, it pleased her to wear silk and pearls again.
The assembly was to be held at the Swan Inn, and the Kingsley carriage dropped them in good time for the opening dances. Both the twins had the smug look of young ladies who already had partners for at least the first two dances, so Lucy had no expectation of anything other than a quiet evening chatting comfortably to the other chaperons. As soon as the band began to warm up, however, there was trouble. A little group of young men descended upon them as soon as they sat down at the side of the room. The eldest Mr Smythe-Hunter claimed Winifred, and Mr Exton held out his hand to Deirdre.
“I beg your pardon, Exton,” said Mr Cherry, his face rather red. “Miss Kingsley is engaged to me for these two.”
“You are mistaken,” Mr Exton said. “I claimed Miss Kingsley’s hand some days ago.”
“As did I,” Mr Cherry said. “It was a full week ago, so the honour is mine.”
“On the contrary—” Mr Exton began, but Lucy waved them both to silence.
“Gentlemen, a ball room is hardly the place for such a debate. Let us leave the matter to Miss Kingsley to settle. Deirdre, which of these two gentlemen are you engaged to for the first two?”
They all turned expectantly to Deirdre. She giggled, and put a hand over her mouth. “Oh dear! I am not sure… I cannot quite remember…”
“I am certain I spoke first,” Mr Cherry said.
“No, I am quite sure you are wrong.” The two men glared at each other.
“Oh, my goodness,” Deirdre said, smiling sweetly. “How foolish I am, but I cannot remember.”
Lucy snapped her fan shut in annoyance. “Then you will sit out the first two altogether, Deirdre, and if you cannot remember who you are engaged to in future, I shall suggest to your mama that you should not attend balls until your memory improves.”
There was a stunned silence. Winifred, trying and failing to suppress a wide grin, left hastily with her partner. Mr Exton and Mr Cherry applied to Lucy very politely for permission to secure Deirdre’s hand for later dances, to which she graciously a
ssented. They then walked away, heads together, muttering angrily to each other. Lucy was left with a glowering Deirdre.
“I shall tell Mama of you!” she hissed. “You had no right!”
“Nonsense! I had every right,” Lucy said. “That is my function here, Deirdre, to ensure you behave as a proper young lady should, in your mama’s absence. It is cruel to engage two gentlemen for the first dance, purely for the amusement of watching them fight over you. It would not surprise me if they were to withdraw their attentions after this.”
“It was a mistake!” she cried.
“Was it?” Lucy said. “Then I hope you will apologise to each of them for the confusion.”
Deirdre became thoughtful. “Yes, perhaps I should do that.” Lucy could read the speculation in her eyes very well. Poor Mr Exton and Mr Cherry, to be pulled hither and thither at Deirdre’s whim.
By the second dance, both girls had partners enough to last them the whole evening, and Lucy could relax a little. A public assembly was not quite as select as a private ball, but she was satisfied that all the twins’ partners were such as their parents would approve, and the girls themselves were behaving circumspectly. She felt it safe to sit with some of her own friends and indulge in the sort of intimate chat that she loved.
She rose to move towards Mrs Partridge and Mrs Banstead when a familiar figure loomed up before her.
“Not going away, Mrs Price? I have brought champagne for you. Will you not sit and talk to me for a while?”
“Mr Audley.” For some unaccountable reason she was flustered. His smile was so warm, and those golden eyes shining at her with such intensity that she found it hard to breathe. Every time she met him, she reminded herself that he had left in disgrace, and was no longer a proper person for her to talk to, but for all his rakish behaviour, she liked him very well. Besides, she was thirsty. “Champagne — how kind.”
So they sat and sipped the champagne, which was warm and not terribly bubbly, and she wondered what on earth she was to say to him. She had bumped into him several times at one occasion or another since his unceremonious departure, and she never quite knew how to talk to him now. But he was quite easy, sitting with his legs neatly crossed at the ankles.
The Chaperon (Sisters of Woodside Mysteries Book 2) Page 12
