by Tessa Candle
As he ordered the evening meal, Aldley wondered whether his transportation difficulties would ever cease to amuse his closest acquaintance.
Chapter 14
Two days later, Tilly arrived to make a morning call. Lydia, was seated in her favourite small parlour, slouched comfortably in a chair next to the fireplace, a book lying in her lap.
“I am glad you are come.” Lydia stretched and smiled at her friend, gesturing Tilly to a chair across from her. “Mama is out paying calls, and Papa has some meeting or other. So we may have a nice snug chat.”
“Has Mr. Delacroix given you any more trouble?” Tilly settled into the chair across from Lydia.
“No. Though I have not been out much since we last spoke. I finished Accursed Abbey, but I shall not tell you how it ends,” Lydia smiled mysteriously, “as I am sure you will wish to read it for yourself.”
“Yes, thank you.” Tilly looked distracted. “But at the moment my mind is too engaged with more serious matters.”
“Indeed? What could be more serious than fine literature?”
“I have just come from paying a call on Lady Delacroix. I shall tell you what the subject matter of that call was, but you must promise not to tell another soul, or let on to Miss Delacroix that you know anything about it.”
“You have my word. But this sounds rather serious.” Lydia leaned forward.
“It is more troubling than it is terribly serious. You see, I asked my brother to look into the matter of the missing earrings. He found them and redeemed them. The fence claimed he had bought them from a gentleman, not yet thirty, of medium height, with dark hair and complexion, and blue eyes.”
Lydia's mouth was hanging open. “Do you think it could have been Delacroix?”
“I think it infinitely more likely than the possibility that Marie stole anything. And when I returned the earrings to Lady Delacroix, I relayed the description of the culprit. It was obvious that the similarity to her own son did not escape her ladyship's notice. But she merely dismissed it, saying it could describe many people. She also claimed she was still convinced that the abigail was responsible for the theft.”
The servant brought biscuits, and Tilly immediately began munching one.
“Good Lord, how dreadful! To have your own son steal from you.” Lydia shook her head, but was a little distracted by the need to watch Tilly's facial expression. She hoped that her friend would not notice the decline in biscuit quality. The household was now on sugar rationing. Soon there would be no biscuits at all.
“It is perhaps a more common occurrence than you think.” Tilly said nothing of the biscuits, but continued her relentless consumption. “I only feel sorry for the servants who inevitably get blamed.”
“How do you know about such things?” Lydia was sceptical.
“I have secret sources of intelligence. You will simply have to resign yourself to my superior information.” Tilly gave Lydia an arch look.
“Oh, but you are so mysterious.”
“In any case,” Tilly did not deign to acknowledge Lydia's rolling eyes, “if Lady Delacroix will not take Marie back, I shall give her employment. A servant's loyalty should not be so shoddily repaid.”
“Aren't you the revolutionary.”
“The royal necks are quite safe from me, I assure you.” Tilly smiled mischievously, then continued, “I cannot pretend to be terribly shocked. Lady Delacroix must keep up appearances as best she can, though her younger son has been so recklessly engaging in very bad ton. He seems quite desperate, like someone with little to lose. That can only mean he has run up debts and his brother is refusing to pay them.”
“You think he is in debt? Then why has he not simply made an offer for me, instead of behaving so scandalously?” Lydia's face betrayed how unpalatable she found the idea.
“I think he believes, correctly, that either you or your father would refuse him. You, because he mistook you for a bit of muslin on your first encounter—an incivility from which one does not easily recover. And your father, because Delacroix hasn't a feather to fly with.” Tilly looked superior as she bit into another biscuit.
“Yes, my father has said as much. So Delacroix's intentions are not to engage my affections, but...”
“Quite. But frankly, he doesn't strike me as a man with a well laid out plan.” Tilly pulled the shawl draped over her chair-back around her shoulders.
Lydia cringed a little. They were keeping the fires low now, to save on wood. She hated not being able to offer Tilly the basic comfort of a good fire. Tilly seemed not to notice Lydia's reaction, or the fact that the fire was low. Lydia relaxed again.
Tilly continued, “However, if he is at the point of stealing jewellery from his own mother, he may be desperate enough to contemplate an abduction.”
“Lord, you cannot be serious. And you accused me of reading too many novels.” Lydia chuckled at her friend's far fetched anxieties.
“I hope I am wrong. But you must be on your guard. And I retracted what I said about novels, so you needn't harp on about it. What about ringing for some more biscuits?”
Lydia complied, but hated how she internally winced at the expense, how quickly she fell into cheeseparing.
When Tilly had eaten two or three more biscuits, she sipped her tea thoughtfully and asked, “Has Lord Aldley come to call?”
“No.” Tilly breathed deeply. “If he had, I should have told you at once, for I should need to speak of it with someone.”
“I take it that you like him a good deal.” Tilly was smiling sweetly behind her teacup.
Lydia was relieved to see Tilly return to her usual, playful mood.
“I suppose… being around him makes me feel very queer. It is not entirely pleasant. I feel it in my nerves, but at the same time I feel an irresistible impulse to draw closer to him. I crave him. It is confusing, and yet I dearly wish to know him better and hope that he shares this wish. But he is an earl and terribly handsome. He must have many suitable young ladies admiring him. I fear that indulging my hopes is a mistake, as they are likely to be disappointed.”
“Then I shall not counsel you to be hopeful.” Tilly's smile was affectionate. “I shall simply be hopeful for you. Wishful thinking is much less dangerous if it is executed by proxy.”
“You are a good friend, Tilly. I do not know how I should ever get on without you.”
“For one thing, you would have more biscuits.” Tilly shoved another in her mouth and crunched it with zeal.
Lydia remarked internally that her friend could not know how right she was, but was spared trying to make some clever, light-hearted reply by the entrance of her father.
“There you are, Lydia.” Mr. Norwood rubbed his hands together. “Miss Ravelsham. I hope you are well?”
Tilly was miraculously sitting up perfectly straight. “Thank you, Mr. Norwood. I am, exceedingly. And is the London air to your liking?”
Lydia wished to laugh at how Tilly contrived so quickly to rattle off the blandest, most banal forms of chit-chat. It really was marvellous how she almost passed herself off as dull-witted.
“I make the best of it.” Mr. Norwood smiled. “However, I find I must return to the country for short while on some business.”
“Indeed, Papa? Surely nothing is wrong at Nesterling Lodge?” Lydia wondered what new disaster might be smiting her family.
“Not at all. It is nothing to worry about, my dear.” He patted Lydia's arm.
Sensing it was a good time to depart, Tilly ate the last biscuit, then took her leave.
After Tilly had gone, Lydia turned to her father. “What on earth could send you back to Nesterling Lodge so suddenly? It is not bad news, I hope.”
His face drooped. “I am sorry to tell you that there has been some interest in Aristophanes. I have agreed to show him tomorrow.”
Her heart felt as though it had been stabbed. So soon. “Then you must take me with you, Papa. Ari will not perform for anyone else, and I want to meet the buyer. I shall only
part with him to someone who will treat him well.”
“In fact, I am glad to hear you say it, my dear. For the man enquiring after Ari is none other than Lord Aldley.”
Lydia's mouth fell open.
“No time to gape like that. Go and tell your maid to pack lightly—but bring the maid, and bring some, you know,” grasping for le mot juste, he flopped his hand about desperately, “pretty frocks.”
Chapter 15
Rutherford turned his chaise and four to evade the side of a cart unloading barrels of beer at an inn on the outskirts of London, before finally permitting his coachman to take the reins and joining Aldley inside the cab.
Aldley raised a brow. “You have decided to trust your coachman, at last. It is lucky he is not as prone to moodiness as Smythe, or who knows but that the chaise might fly into a ditch somewhere between here and Nesterling, because the man were in a huff over the slight.”
“My coachman is a steady character and will not drive the horses too hard. He will get us to Nesterling Lodge quickly enough, but he doesn't have the hand that I have for navigating London traffic, which is a constant negotiation.”
Rutherford fell silent for a few moments and then continued, with a little pique, “You know, you might have told me that the girl you were protecting from Delacroix was the same girl you had been dancing with at Lady Goodram's ball. When you said it was a young lady, I thought it must be a peer's daughter.”
“I danced with several ladies at that ball. I did not think it was anything to the point.” Aldley looked evasive.
“I think it is very much to the point, if you indeed wished to avoid creating rumours about your reasons for visiting her father.”
“I think our transaction may not reach the attention of the ton, as we are meeting out in the country. I am only looking to buy a horse, after all.”
“Indeed.” Rutherford lowered his lids slightly and pursed his lips.
“And you are puzzled at my secrecy? I believe any man would do a great deal to avoid being subjected to such smugness.”
“But you mistake me. I am not smug. It merely defies credulity to believe you would go to such lengths for a girl in whom you have no real interest. But as that is your position, I must be silent on the matter or risk your wrathful tyranny.”
“Very well, I have some interest in her, of course. But she is a commoner and a bit of a bluestocking, unless I miss my guess. She also has some rather unusual hobbies, which I shall not delve into, but I am not entirely certain she is wholly respectable.”
“A bluestocking and not wholly respectable? Unusual combination of attributes. Did she say or do something at the ball to make you question her character?” Rutherford unwrapped a crockery bottle of coffee from its swaddling and filled cups for them both.
“Not at all—indeed she seemed a bit stiff at times, but I assume that she was merely nervous. I do not think she is much accustomed to society. She said as much—that she did not know what was suitable conversation.” Aldley accepted a steaming cup of creamy coffee, and sipped it.
“But that is hardly a great offence. It should not call her character in to question, surely.”
“No. In fact, I must admit, I find her country manners rather charming. I have always thought I might take a wife from among the middling classes. She has clearly been raised with that unfashionable degree of morality which I prefer. It is so hard to find anyone among the nobility who is not almost completely depraved.”
“Quite. Hopefully she is less boring than you make her out to be. You need someone to rescue you from yourself.” Rutherford tipped some brandy into Aldley's coffee and then into his own. “For you are so maddeningly virtuous that, if I had not known your father, I might even question your claim to being an earl.”
“I shall take that as a compliment, Rutherford, though it comes from a scoundrel like you.”
Rutherford chuckled. “But as for her being a commoner, if you like her, does it really signify? After all, she is well acquainted with Lady Goodram.”
Aldley could not help smiling a little. “In any case, all told I've about an hour's acquaintance with her. It is not quite enough to know my feelings.”
“And yet long enough to have given you reservations.”
“I was born with reservations, but they can be overcome, in time.” Aldley took a sip of his coffee and enjoyed the warmth that spread over him. “I eventually took a liking to you, for example.”
“I believe it helped that your mother could not stand the sight of me.” Rutherford's smile was sardonic.
“Perhaps a little. But as I recall, you were charmingly adept at cock-a-roosty, and later were too good at bandy-wickets for me to risk letting the other side get you on their team. I had little choice but to befriend you, really. Plus you much later gave me some very good investment tips, so it seemed a useful acquaintance. And you have a cracking team of horses, so I suppose we must continue, really.”
“Yes, I am quite indispensable, as you cannot manage to procure a team of your own, much less drive them. And hiring a man is also apparently beyond your reach.” Rutherford stretched out his Hessians, and polished a speck of dirt with a handkerchief.
“Speaking of buying horses, what do you know of Mr. Norwood, Rutherford? Have you come across him in town?”
“Not at all. Of course he is a commoner, but the only thing I have heard against him is that he made much of his early living in trade. He has, since then, made other investments and is very widely known to be indecently rich, so a little filthy commerce may be overlooked. I dare say, if he plays his cards right, it will only be a matter of time until he is elevated.”
“Then I wonder why he is selling this hunter.” Aldley poured himself more coffee.
“Perhaps he hasn't time to ride it.” Rutherford thought for a moment. “And he is getting on in years. One cannot chase foxes forever. Or at all, in some cases.”
“You needn't let on that I do not fox hunt, or it will ruin the entire pretext for my being there.”
“And do you plan on buying the horse without so much as getting on its back?” Rutherford laughed.
“I believe it might be done. Although, strictly speaking, it is not necessary that I buy the horse, only that I go look at it.”
Rutherford continued to chuckle as he served them both more brandy.
When they arrived at Nesterling Lodge, Mr. Norwood received them in a well-lit parlour, with a large curio cabinet and a few shelves of books. They gathered instinctively around the fireplace, and settled themselves into the plump leather chairs alongside the hearth.
“My lord, Mr. Rutherford, would you care for a drink before viewing Aristophanes? He is being warmed up at the moment.” He handed them each a glass of spirits. “This is our own schnapps—Olah calls it something else that I can't remember. He tends our orchards and is a magician at making these little potions. This one he has aged upon raspberries. It is delicious, say it as I shouldn't.”
“Indeed it is.” Aldley was impressed. “Very delicate, but still has a formidable kick.”
“I am quite taken with the flavouring.” Rutherford's face lit up. “I have experimented with various flavourings in my rum production, but so far they have yielded disappointing results.”
“You have interests in the West Indies, have you?” Mr. Norwood looked impressed.
“Indeed, I do. Fortunately I have an excellent manager, so I need not travel there often.”
“Aye, here is to capable managers—they are a godsend.” Mr. Norwood raised his glass and they all toasted.
“And you, my lord, have you also an interest in rum production?”
“I have some investments,” Aldley replied, “but I leave direct ownership to those who have been so fortunate as to find excellent managers. Do you suppose you might ask your man to show Rutherford the schnapps production? I am quite sure he would be very keen to see it, would you not, Rutherford?”
“Indeed I should, if it is not too much of a
n imposition.”
“Not at all.” Mr. Norwood looked delighted. “I shall ask Farleigh to take you out to Olah. Old Olah doesn't hardly speak a word of English, but Farleigh and he seem to understand one another.”
When Lord Aldley was finally alone with Mr. Norwood, he produced the letter. Mr. Norwood read it through quickly, a crease forming in his forehead.
“I found this in a most unusual spot—a small hut in a tree, in a park, which I understand is adjacent to the back enclosure of your London home.” Aldley examined Mr. Norwood's face for any hint of surprise at the description, but saw none.
Aldley surmised he knew of the structure's existence and continued. “It is embarrassing to admit that I was climbing about in the tree hut, but I was curious. I realize this is somewhat awkward, as we have only just met, but I am a little acquainted with your daughter. I could not conceal this from you when I believed that she might be the intended recipient. In short, although this missive is only initialled, I believe I know who the author is. I may refer you to the note itself for evidence of his dishonourable character. Though I could, I trust that I need not, add my own testimony.”
“Why did Lydia not tell me of this?” Mr. Norwood looked crushed with grief.
“Forgive me! I should have told you from the outset that it is my strong belief that she has never seen this letter.”
Mr. Norwood released a breath of relief. “Lord. I am glad to hear your lordship say so. My daughter and I are very close. I am surprised enough that she did not tell me of this young scoundrel's effrontery. I suppose she was trying her best to forget it, that it might be concealed. But to permit a secret correspondence...”
“I believe she is entirely innocent of it. I do not think she knows of this letter's existence at all. In fact, I must have come across it very shortly after it was left there, for I found it in the afternoon on the day after the ball he mentions. This was Lady Goodram's ball, and unless I am very mistaken as to the author's identity, he had sneaked into that ball uninvited. I escorted him out myself. But the letter, distasteful as it is, strongly suggests that your daughter has been entirely blameless and, far from inviting a correspondence, has repelled his advances.”
