At this, Kingsley jumped to his feet and began to pace about, so that Leo was obliged to stand, too. “I do. I do have good reason for it, but… Audley, believe me when I say that there are exceptionally sound reasons for what I have to do to keep this child safe. I cannot tell you of them, but they are compelling. It would be remiss in me to ignore the signs.”
“Then that is all I need to know,” Leo said.
“You would take my word for it?” Kingsley said, his eyebrows shooting upwards.
“Of course. You are a gentleman, as am I, so we meet as equals. Naturally I take your word for it. I can imagine, too, that it might be something you do not wish to share with your wife. Women are less rational about certain matters.”
“Ha! Indeed. Well put. And yet… you are the last person in the world I would have expected to side with me against Augusta.”
“Against Augusta? There is a conflict, then, between her interests and the baby’s? That surprises me, but still I trust you to do what is right.”
“Exactly so! I must do what is right,” Kingsley said. “It is a damnable business, Audley, damnable, but I must keep her away from the child, at all costs.”
“But…” Leo struggled with the import of these words. “You cannot seriously believe that she would harm the baby? Her own child? Impossible!”
“So I thought, the first time, but when it happened again… and the history… and who else could it have been? No one else was in the room, or could have got into the room. No, Augusta must have killed those two babes. My sons… And I cannot allow it to happen again. I shall have to keep my own wife locked up away from her child.”
Kingsley put his head in his hands and quietly wept.
~~~~~
As soon as Leo entered the drawing room, Tom drew him aside. “Let us go outside for a smoke.” Leo was not a smoker himself, and Tom tended to play with his pipe, but it served to remove them from the company and give them a chance to talk in private. They slipped back into the dining room and thence to the colonnade that connected the old and new parts of the house. There was still enough light in the sky to see without lamps. Here Tom sat, engaged in setting up his pipe.
“You managed it very well, Leo,” he said, concentrating on his task. “Kept my name out of it beautifully. Very much obliged to you, as you know.”
“Miss Mason was very foolish, but at least she had the good sense to say nothing about you, once she realised the situation, especially with your Uncle Richard being practically a neighbour. It is a relief that the whole business is settled, and without too much damage.” Except the loss of Lucy, and now that Tom had his claws into her…
“Kingsley keeps a good table, does not he?” Tom went on absently. “That lamb was so tender, and as for the asparagus, I have never tasted anything like it. If it is grown here in the garden, I should like a plant or two to take back to Bath for Mama. She dearly likes asparagus.”
“Never mind that,” Leo cried, pacing up and down impatiently. “You took Mrs Price out in your curricle.”
“Oh yes,” Tom said without looking up. “She had never been in one before, she said, but she enjoyed it in the end. And then we—” He stopped and looked up at Leo’s stricken face. “Oh, no. No, no, no. It was not like that, not at all, it was only that—”
“Only what?”
“She was quite splendid, Leo! She whacked David Exton with her parasol and—”
“What?”
“Oh, he deserved it. If I had got to him first, I would have done more than whack him with a parasol, I can tell you.”
“You had a parasol?”
“No. Leo, are you foxed?”
“Just… confused. But forget about parasols. Tell me at once, are you interested in Mrs Price for yourself, Tom?”
“Not in the least.”
“Ohhhhh.” Leo sat down with a whoosh, his legs unaccountably weak. He had not lost her!
Tom patted his shoulder amiably. “You are in a bad way, my friend. She told me, you know. That you had offered for her. So even if I had been thinking along those lines — which I was not, not in the slightest, I assure you! — you would have been safe from me. Would never tread on your feet, Leo, you must know that. Although you might have told me,” he added in aggrieved tones.
“I would have done, of course, in the normal way, but it all came on a bit suddenly,” Leo said, rubbing his face. “One day I simply saw her as a delightful friend, and the next… I suppose it was Stoneleigh Hall falling vacant again, and Henry Dunbar suggested I think about marriage, and there it was. I knew at once what to do. So I took her to see Stoneleigh, although I never meant to speak! But the opportunity arose, and it all seemed so propitious, and then…”
“Then she turned you down,” Tom said gently.
“She did, and in such terms as to make me doubt that I may ever change her mind. But I must try.”
“I cannot work out in my mind which is the most far-fetched part of this tale,” Tom said. “That you offered, or that she refused. Either seems quite inconceivable.”
“What about Mrs Price makes her ineligible to be my wife?” Leo said, his voice hoarse with displeasure. “I warn you, Tom, I will hear not a word spoken against her.”
“You will not hear any adverse comment on her person or her character,” Tom said at once. “She is the most amiable creature alive, I grant you, and not an ounce of malice in her — or ambition, either, or she would have whisked you off to church already. She must be the only woman in the world uninterested in your fortune. But as to eligibility — Leo, what are you thinking? She has no money, no family, no connections. Her sisters are all employed in shabby occupations, and amiability will not help her to run Stoneleigh or the Bath house. What happened to your hopes of a titled wife, someone fit to be mistress of Stoneleigh?”
“I have never cared about that,” Leo said, jumping to his feet. “Money and connections and titles mean nothing if they merely fill the bearer with self-importance, and I have servants enough to run Stoneleigh. My wife need do nothing but sit about all day and read novels if she wishes. And chat to me with that entrancing smile of hers,” he added in an undertone. “I love to hear her rattle away, the way she does. No man could possibly be lonely with Lucy about.”
“Have you been lonely?” Tom said. “I never would have guessed it.”
“I believe so. Life was terribly dull after Gussie married, and the house seemed so empty and echoing. Since then, I have been bouncing around the country looking for something to amuse me, and nothing answered. It was so tiring, Tom. Yet here I still am, five months after first coming into Shropshire, and content to stay for five more, and another five after that. Lucy always amuses me, and, more than that, she challenges me to do better, to be the honourable man I ought to be, and not just a good-for-nothing flirt. She despises me quite thoroughly, Tom, as she despises all young men, for we are duplicitous and insincere in her eyes. I have no idea how I am ever to win her, but win her I shall, if it takes me years to turn myself into someone worthy to aspire to her hand.”
“Well,” Tom said, eyebrows raised. “You have surprised me, Leo, but I wish you good fortune in your pursuit of Mrs Price. I would not presume to advise you, for you must know your own requirements in a wife better than anyone, but I would caution against haste. It may be that Mrs Price appears to advantage beside the sort of society manners of which you have become jaded. She is refreshingly different, to be sure, but marriage may provide plenty of time for the novelty to wear off. It is too important a decision to be taken lightly.”
“I do not take it lightly, I assure you,” Leo said. “But Tom, you are unusually solemn on the subject yourself. Are you also thinking in that direction?”
He shrugged, with an embarrassed grin. “I have been pondering the subject, it is true,” he said.
“And which young lady may claim the honour of inducing such introspection in you?”
Tom looked conscious. “Do not make something of nothing, I
beg you, because I am very far from offering for her, or even trying seriously to attach her. She has suitors enough already, it seems to me. But it is Miss Winifred Kingsley of whom I speak.”
“Winifred?” Leo said. “Great heavens, Tom, she is not at all… hmm… I do not wish to speak ill of her when you clearly hold her in high regard, and she is the prettier of the sisters, it is true, but… why Winifred and not Deirdre?”
Tom chewed his lip. “Deirdre… there is something about her that makes me uneasy. She smiles and simpers and says all that is proper… she seems like a perfectly good-natured person, but there is something unsettling about her. As if the pleasant manner is a shell that she might cast off at any moment. No, I cannot quite like Deirdre. But Winifred, for all her crossness and temper and tears, can be an angel when she is not with her sister.”
“There is some jealousy there,” Leo said carefully.
“Which is perfectly understandable,” Tom said indignantly. “Deirdre is the older by just ten minutes, but she gets all the respect, all the attention, all the fortune.”
“She is Miss Kingsley, and is respected for her seniority accordingly, as with any pair of twins. If a duke has twin sons, then one is destined to live in splendour as a peer of the realm, and the other is destined for a scrabbling life as a clergyman. Such is the society we live in. But as to fortune, the girls are to have the same dowry, as I understand it.”
“Yes, but there is some other money that comes only to Deirdre, apparently. Your sister let it slip one day. And Deirdre is always stealing Winifred’s suitors away, and setting them at each other’s throats. She is a little schemer, or so Winifred says.”
“Winifred says a lot of things, but she is not to be relied upon,” Leo said repressively.
There was a long silence after this. Tom managed to get his pipe lit, and puffed industriously at it for fully half a minute before it went out again.
“These things are damnably difficult to manage,” he said at length, tossing it onto the seat with such force that it was a wonder it did not break.
“You should take snuff if your tastes run to tobacco,” Leo said, amused.
“And leave a little trail of the stuff all down my waistcoat, and on my sleeve, like old Mr Fothergill? Never!” Then he confessed, “I have tried it, of course, but it always makes me sneeze and that is so undignified. I do like to be dignified, if at all possible. I should like to be you, of course, always so distinguished, always at ease, no matter the company.”
“You have impeccable manners, Tom, and if you know that you are correctly attired and behaving just as you ought, then you need not agonise over your dignity. It is not as if either of us is a duke, or ever likely to be. You are not a distant heir to some nobleman, are you?”
“Not that I know of.” Tom fell silent again, then said hesitantly, “She is rather a jealous type, is not she?”
“Winifred? I fear she is, and not just Deirdre, either. She was unforgivably rude to Gussie when she first married Kingsley, and she was very badly behaved over the babies, too. That sort of thing might be understandable in a child of five, but in a young lady about to come out, it was quite unpleasant.”
Another, even longer silence, ensued.
“Tom? Are you getting in deep with Winifred?”
“No, or at least, I do not think so. I like her well enough when I can get her away from her sister, but she does worry me, Leo. Some of the things she says! According to Michaels, the story below stairs is that she once said that she was glad the babies had died, for a son and heir would be so doted upon there would be no bearing it.”
“Your valet listens to too much gossip,” Leo said.
“Maybe, but at least one always knows what is going on. But it is worrying, Leo. I mean, here we have two babies, perfectly healthy, not a thing wrong with them, and yet they both died suddenly, without the slightest whimper. And there is Miss Winifred, burning up with jealousy, and just think how easy it would be to put a pillow over the poor little creature in its cradle. One does not like to think of such a thing, but now that I have thought it, I cannot get the idea out of my head.”
“No one killed those babies, and certainly not Winifred,” Leo said gently. “They died at night, with no one around but Gussie and the nurses, in a room with barred windows and no secret passages, because I looked. The second time, the outer door was locked. Whatever other defects Winifred may have, a propensity to murder is not one of them, so you may set aside any worries on that head.”
Tom exhaled slowly. “Oh, thank God! Thank you, Leo, you set my mind quite at rest. So it could not have been murder, then? They must have just died for no reason?”
“No reason that we know of,” Leo said. “There is always a reason, but sometimes it is not given to mortal man to understand it.”
“Oh, very true, very profound, Leo. Why you are becoming quite philosophical these days. Quite wise, in fact.”
Leo gave a wry smile. “Not wise, just realising, perhaps belatedly, that I am of a good deal less importance in the world than I once thought. I am discovering that fine clothes and a great house and a substantial fortune are nearly enough to entice a lady with no money, no family and no connections, for she is virtuous and of good character, and I am nothing but a worm crawling on the ground in her eyes. It is a great aid to humility, I find, being refused where I least expected it. But if I mend my ways, and pursue a blameless existence for… oh, ten years or so, perhaps she will look more favourably upon me.”
“That sounds very dull. Would this be an opportune moment to point out that there are a great many other ladies in the world who could be enticed with somewhat less effort?”
“No, it would not.” But he smiled all the same. “If your pipe has finally defeated you, shall we rejoin the others?”
19: A Garden Party
This conversation with Tom had one beneficial effect on Leo, in that he now realised that there was no need for haste with Lucy. Indeed, rushing at the business had already caused him trouble, for she had sent him packing in the most unequivocal manner, and in such terms as to give him little hope of success in the future.
Yet he must try. He understood now, as he had not before, just how precious she was to him. Those few hours when he had thought Tom was his rival had reduced him to quivering terror. He could not lose Lucy now! All this time he had thought of her as his friend — a very dear friend, true, but still no more than someone to talk to and be at ease with and perhaps share a joke with. A little like Tom, only a more feminine version.
But it was not so. He was in love with her — he loved her, helplessly, desperately, beyond all reason. Tom was quite right to point out that Lucy was not the sort of woman Leo should be considering as a wife. He should be looking for someone elegant and refined, someone who would be a graceful hostess at Stoneleigh, who would connect him to one of the great families, the nobility, perhaps. And immediately he had a vision of Lucy sitting in the dining hall at Stoneleigh with a duke to one side of her and a marquess to the other, and chattering away to them, her face alive with interest. He could not help but smile at this image. Every time he thought of her, he smiled. She would not be cowed by rank, that much was certain. Dear, sweet, unaffected Lucy.
Even so, it was as well to be circumspect. Perhaps, as Tom said, the novelty would wear off, and he would weary of her and the endless chatter that so diverted him now. So he would wait and watch and do nothing precipitate.
At first, he had little chance to talk to her. That first evening there had been no opportunity to do more than exchange greetings, but she had smiled at him with as much warmth as always, which was reassuring. At least they had parted amicably. He was so glad he had been able to talk to her before he left for Lancashire, for otherwise their last speech together would have been his mangled attempt at a proposal and her vehement repudiation of him, which was not a memory he wanted to linger in the mind, for either of them. But then, she had never been one to sulk, always throwing off
her brief ill-humours rapidly.
The next day was Saturday, and she was out all day with the twins on some expedition of pleasure or other to which he, having only just returned, was not invited. But that evening, he found her alone in the saloon before dinner, and wearing black again.
“Mrs Price, you are back in deep mourning. Have you had bad news?”
“Only of my aunt whom I have never seen, Mr Audley. My sister Margaret is — was — her companion, and she wrote to tell me of Aunt Letty’s death.”
“I am very sorry to hear of it. Pray send my condolences also to your sister. She must feel it deeply, living there in the house. Had your aunt been unwell?”
“Oh yes, for some time now. That was why Margaret was there, to bear her company and read to her or run errands, since she could not leave her bed.”
“And did her condition worsen suddenly, or was it more of a gradual decline?”
“Do you know, I have not the least idea. Margaret is the world’s worst letter-writer, so she gave no indication of any fears for my aunt. Indeed, her last report was that Aunt Letty was a little better, but that was weeks ago. April, quite possibly.”
“And what is to become of your sister now? Must she leave the house?”
“Oh no, for Aunt Pru is still there, and I am sure she will want Margaret to stay on. But it is all very vexing, for here I am back in black again. I never seem to escape it. First Walter, and then Papa, and now Aunt Letty, and I do so dislike black. It is such a draining colour, for one always looks ill in it, as if one is about to expire oneself.”
He laughed at that. “In general I would agree with you, and this Brummell fellow has a great deal to answer for, forcing even men into black coats, but some women look remarkably well in black, and you are one of them, Mrs Price.”
The Chaperon (Sisters of Woodside Mysteries Book 2) Page 18
