by Tessa Candle
Chapter 30
Lydia sat next to a plain pine table in the small library at Nesterling Lodge and stretched her legs out to prop her feet on a little leather-covered footstool.
It had been a flurry of activity for Lydia to say her goodbyes and get packed. She, her mother and Tilly were to depart for London early the next morning. Mr. DeGroen and Mr. Ravelsham were to follow soon, and Mr. Norwood would remain in the country with Mr. Rutherford.
Tilly and Lydia had sneaked off to the library, where they would be out of the way of the incessant flitting about of her mother to add just one more thing to her packing. Lydia wished to discuss the events of the previous day, privately, and Mrs. Norwood's one more thing was never a book.
“It is perplexing.” Lydia wriggled her feet about as she mulled over the problem in her mind. “I sat up thinking about it last night, but I cannot conceive of how Miss Delacroix could have known that Lord Aldley would be travelling on that road, at that time.”
“She had to have accomplices.” Tilly lay on a méridienne and dangled one arm over the side. “She did not turn that carriage into the ditch by herself. I do not know that it has anything to do with this latest intrigue, but I have formed a surmise. I do not like to say it, until I can prove that it is true, for it involves the character of a servant, whom I had thought much more trustworthy.”
“Really?” Lydia thought a moment. “Ah yes, I see what you mean. But surely...”
“Quite. One would think that Marie would be more thankful toward her current employer, and not wish to betray her trust. But on the other hand, she had been not just a servant to Miss Delacroix, but a companion for so many years.”
Tilly looked contrite for a few brief moments, then continued, “Yes, I have been blind to think that would change just because of her new situation—however shoddily she was treated by the mother.”
“The communication between them could never be so quick as that, when she was in London and Marie was out here in the country. Surely we are mistaken.” Lydia knit her brows.
“I think Miss Delacroix got the information about when Lord Aldley would be leaving Essington Hall through the viscount. If you recall, just before he left, Lord Aldley told Lord Delacroix when he would be leaving for town. And you know that once Miss Delacroix learned that the earl was in the area, she would have extracted all the information she could from her brother.”
“Yes, true. Then what is it that you suspect Marie of doing?”
“I was not thinking so much of Miss Delacroix's plotting. I was thinking of what happened in London.”
“Hmm?”
“Did you not ever wonder why Delacroix was waiting with his henchmen in the park that day?” Tilly cocked her head to one side. “Surely he does not just idle about the area in his carriage of a Thursday afternoon, on the off chance that you, or some other rich heiress, would show up.”
“Yes.” She was stunned for a few moments. “I never thought upon it—so much has transpired since then, and I suppose I wanted to forget. But of course you are right. Of course he must have known in advance. So you think it was Marie?”
“I think Marie may have passed the information to Miss Delacroix. But that must also mean that Miss Delacroix told her brother.”
“That little witch. She knew what his plan was. That is why she claimed to have heard I was abducted. She knew about the scheme all along.” Lydia had never liked Miss Delacroix, but she felt deeply betrayed that the girl would conspire to have Lydia so assaulted. “Shall you at least dismiss Marie?”
“Certainly not. Now that I have an inkling that she is something of a spy, think how useful she might prove.”
Lydia shook her head. “I cannot imagine how having a faithless servant could prove useful.”
“That is because you are not devious enough. But you are intelligent and unconventional. Given some time, I think you will come along nicely. In the meantime, let me just give you this hint: whatever you want Miss Delacroix to believe, all you need to do is say it in front of Marie. Think what fun!” Tilly giggled with glee.
Lydia grimaced. “My recent experiences have left me with a strong disinclination to think of anything involving the Delacroix family as fun.”
“Do not let it make you bitter, my friend. I mean, just think how far recent catastrophes have advanced your cause.”
Lydia crossed her arms, as her mother always told her not to. “I do not see what you mean.”
“You have made a very near connection with Lord Aldley's closest friend. That would be valuable, in and of itself, but you have also inadvertently made the earl jealous.” Tilly wiggled her eyebrows.
“There was no reason...none at all—”
“Yes, yes. The fact that it was a misunderstanding, and completely unintentional, just makes it that much better.” Tilly played with a cluster of curls on her forehead. “Have you spoken to Mr. Rutherford lately? Did he clear things up with Lord Aldley?”
Lydia looked hopeful. “I believe so. When I checked in on him last night, he told me of his visit with the earl.”
“What did he say?”
“Well, he did not recall very much, but he said he told Lord Aldley what really happened with Delacroix.”
“But what of the little tussle on the bed?” Tilly's eyes squinted into an inquisitor’s gaze.
“It wasn't a tussle.”
Tilly waved her hand as if to swat away her friend's irrelevant objections. “Do not be so missish. Did he clear up that misunderstanding?”
“He said that he did not quite recall the whole conversation. They apparently spent some time talking about you...” Lydia blushed. “I think you must be careful not to break poor Mr. Rutherford's heart.”
Tilly smiled. “And what of my heart? Have you warned him to be careful of mine?”
“No. And as you are an engaged woman, I could hardly make such a suggestion. I only told him to be careful of appearances.” Lydia looked very seriously at her friend.
“Oh dear. You are becoming so terribly dreary. I see that you will not take your own prospects seriously because you are too busy worrying about mine. I shall have to take matters into my own hands.” Tilly walked to the door.
“Where are you going?” Lydia looked at her friend in disbelief.
“I need to have a little chat with Mr. Rutherford before we leave—and I do not care if he is sleeping.”
The next morning Lydia wanted to ask what Tilly said to Rutherford, but the presence of her mother in the carriage prevented any very interesting conversation. Her friend gave her a playful wink that made her hope all was well. Otherwise they were reduced to occasional meaningful looks.
“I have managed to procure Miss Grey to arrange your hair for the ball, my dear.” Mrs. Norwood adjusted her pretty pink bonnet and looked pleased with herself.
“She is terribly clever, and she works quickly. I am glad to give her my business, but was she not already engaged?”
“Not precisely engaged. That is to say, she was to do Miss Delacroix's hair, but I managed to persuade her to come to you in the morning, first—Miss Delacroix most obligingly agreed to having her hair done later in the day.”
“So I shall have to mind my hair all day until the ball in the evening?” Lydia complained almost out of habit, for she would endure a great deal to assure she looked pretty when she next saw Lord Aldley.
“Yes you will. It is ever so important that you are in your best looks.” Her mother was stern.
But Lydia wondered why Miss Delacroix had been so obliging. Perhaps it was because she believed that Lydia would be neatly abducted away by the time of the ball. The ruddy little heifer. How could someone so tedious be as despicable as this?
“Did Miss Delacroix say what the occasion was that merited the special coiffure?” Tilly was apparently also suspicious.
“No. I suppose she might have been hoping for a last minute invitation to the Aldley ball. Did she not strike you as being particularly interested in the
earl?” Her mother's smile held a fleeting moment of smugness.
“Yes, I see what you mean.” Lydia nodded. Her mother did not know the half of it. “But it seems to be betting on rather long odds.”
Her mother turned her cheek slightly. “I hope you will not use such gambler's cant when you are at the Aldley ball. It will not give the right impression.”
“Miss Delacroix has a fairly wide acquaintance, perhaps she has another important engagement.” Tilly's face belied any true belief in that possibility. “Did Miss Delacroix change her mind suddenly about lending you Miss Grey's services?”
“In fact she did. Just before—well, just before our trip to the country, shall we say, she sent me a note. She said she had been thinking the matter over, and felt sorry to deprive such a good friend. The note arrived while you were out in the park. With everything that happened, it quite slipped my mind.”
Lydia resisted the desire to give Tilly a meaningful look. She was amazed that so soon after the abduction, her mother could discuss Delacroix's sister with such equanimity, and without the least suspicion.
But Lydia's instincts told her it was better that her mother remain in the dark. “Well, that was generous of her. And I have every confidence in Miss Grey's genius.”
“Yes,” added Tilly, “Miss Grey's powers are legendary. I think she must be doing rather well for herself.”
Tilly sank into thought for a few moments. “May I come over and sit with you while she arranges your hair?”
“Of course.” Lydia was certain that her clever friend had some deeper purpose in mind. “I should be most grateful for the company, in fact.”
“Oh, and I have changed my mind about your dress, my dear.” Mrs. Norwood tapped her head. “I consulted Floren yesterday, and she said she had a vision in which you were in white when you received your proposal. You shall wear the ivory silk, I think, with the pink ribbon on the bodice.”
Lydia wanted to roll her eyes, but merely smiled her acquiescence. She was accustomed to her mother's habit of consulting with the old soothsayer who lived in one of the west cottages at Nesterling. It had resulted in some rather bizarre predictions, which Mrs. Norwood found a way of believing had come true.
How much money had her mother spent on these oracles? She was not indifferent to how she looked, but thought the matter should be left to the superior taste of her mother. Referring the decision to a medium was foolhardy, especially when they were facing retrenchments.
Thinking about the retrenchments inspired Lydia with a greater urgency to get working on her investment idea. If only she could chat with Tilly about it now. She needed to do something.
Her agitation about her family's financial situation was also spoiling her anticipation of seeing Lord Aldley. How much should she disclose to him? Would it not be better to be completely honest?
There was a sudden commotion outside. Their carriage slowed and moved toward the rougher going on the shoulder of the road.
“Good Lord! What now?” Her mother instinctively grasped the edge of her seat.
The reason for their manoeuvring became apparent, as another carriage flew past them. Their own carriage driver halted the horses until the other coach passed, then proceeded to carefully navigate back onto the even roadway.
“Some irresponsible young coxcomb out for a rollick and indifferent as to whether he drives decent folk into ditches!” Mrs. Norwood was irate.
Although Lydia more or less shared the sentiment, she could not agree with her mother's sketch of the villain. She was quite sure she had seen a flash of the Delacroix colours on the side of the carriage, but Mr. Delacroix was too much of an invalid for any carriage sport, nor would the viscount be inclined to leave his convalescent brother to go racing about the country.
Surely the passenger was Miss Delacroix—which might explain how her carriage overturned the day before, if Lydia were not already convinced that it was no accident.
The little schemer was in a rather great rush to get back to town.
Chapter 31
Lady Aldley was resplendent in a deep blue silk morning dress and cap trimmed with bantam feathers. She sat perched in a sunbeam, on a gold silk upholstered chair in the south corner of her parlour, pretending to work at fancy sewing.
“I see you have finally procured a set of four horses and a new carriage,” She observed. “It is a rather smart rig, although I observe that it does not have the Aldley colours. Still, I am glad you have given up trotting about in those embarrassing hackneys. Is there some occasion for this new found extravagance?”
“There need not be any occasion. I have been wanting to acquire equipage since I returned home from Paris, but merely lacked the time to attend to it. I should hardly call it extravagant, but I am pleased that I shall arrive at your ball in style.”
Aldley smiled indulgently at his mother, then added, “Albeit without the Aldley colours. But I shall remedy that omission as soon as may be.”
“I am glad to hear it.” She played with the silky, chestnut curls at her temples, then placed another stitch before resting the loop idly in her lap. “I do not suppose you have taken my advice and uninvited that young Norwood person.”
“Certainly not. Were it not for the very great pleasure I shall have in seeing her at the ball, I should have stayed in the countryside to be nearer to Rutherford.”
“Rutherford. Yes, is he not staying with her out in the country? I thought I heard they were soon to be married. A patched up business, no doubt.” She pursed her lips in disapproval.
“If you are listening to gossips for your information, you deserve to be as grossly misinformed as you clearly have been. There is nothing to patch up, and they are not to be married.”
Aldley tried to give a force of conviction to his words that he did not entirely feel. “Mr. Rutherford is merely convalescing at Nesterling Lodge, where he stays as a guest of Mr. Norwood.”
“Well, at least I shall be spared Mr. Rutherford's company.” She looked at her loop and placed another stitch, then set it down again. “Oh but how you will put your interest in the most worthless people before your family obligations. What on earth sort of person gets themselves involved in a shooting?”
“He is the nephew of a duke. I fail to comprehend your disdain.”
She only sniffed in reply.
Aldley picked a hair off his cuff, and continued, “And I should have thought that getting stabbed while rescuing the brother of a viscount would lend my friend some distinction, among any but the least generous of the ton.”
“It is a suspicious business,” Lady Aldley scoffed. “I see it as singular, not distinguished.”
“Well then, you will be most alarmed to hear that when I dragged your opium-addled son-in-law out of a mean, putrid shanty in Venice, it was apparent that he, too, had sustained an injury. But I very much doubt that it had anything to do with trying to effect a rescue.”
His mother's jaw fell open. “I do not wish to hear disparaging speculations about our family members.”
“No, I can imagine not. You also did not seem to take family obligations seriously enough to have informed me when my sister was abandoned and left to scrape for herself and her child without access to funds. Yes, I can well imagine that you do not want to hear about it. Well, just as you wish.”
Aldley drew a breath and calmed himself before adding, “Only I thought you might want some advance knowledge that he has been returned home to Essington Hall. He expressed a wish to attend your ball, in fact. I tried to dissuade him, but clearly I misapprehended your feelings on the matter. Perhaps I should discharge a rider with a quick note. If he left tomorrow morning he could still make it in time.”
“I should not wish Lord Essington to inconvenience himself,” she said through clenched teeth. Then she regained her composure and scrutinized her loop, adding, “particularly when his health is delicate.”
“True. He has lost use of his legs. That may slow him down enough to keep him ou
t of your way during the ball. But do not deceive yourself. He is not of a mind to stay quietly retired in the countryside. And when he slithers his way to London, you shall have to decide whether your own reputation can sustain such an acquaintance. But I leave the matter entirely up to you.”
She pressed her lips together, and rang the bell for tea. “I am sure you exaggerate the situation.”
“I do no such thing, as you will soon be aware. But as for me, I have put him on notice. One more scandalous misbehaviour and I shall cast him off.”
“And what of your sister?”
“Oh, now you care about your only daughter,” Aldley scoffed. “Now that you have married her off to that beast of a man, then left her to fend for herself when he abandoned her. Be assured that I shall sustain my sister and nephew in any way I can and lend her my countenance, if she should choose to leave Essington Hall.”
“She is too well brought up to think of it.” She pulled another stitch through.
“Perhaps.” Too cowed would be a better description. “But she must also think of the child. In any case, as you can see, I am discharging my family obligations, as you call them. And I shall be at the ball, but I do not say what I shall do if your hand-picked son-in-law should make an appearance.”
“I do not like your tone.”
“I do not like your unremitting commentary on my choice of acquaintance. We all have our crosses to bear.”
“You are a most unfeeling son.” She set down the loop and pressed her hand to her temple, shaking her head. “All I think of is what is best for you, and all I receive in return are insolent criticisms—” Her further thoughts on the topic were interrupted by the entry of one of Aldley's servants.
“Begging your pardon, my lord, my lady. Only an urgent message is just now come for your lordship, so I came here straight.” He handed over the message. “Shall I wait for a reply, my lord?”
