When the comte had proposed after her father's death, Ianthe had finally, in her grief, told Cherie.
'It is what you wanted for so long, ma petite,' said Cherie warmly, but a little guardedly had thought Ianthe. 'When are you to be married?'
'Why now, Cherie? Why did he ask only now?'
Cherie nodded, had understood that she had refused him, and had taken Ianthe into her arms as she cried anew.
And now he had followed them to England. Ianthe's heart was wounded once more.
Chapter Eighteen
Jewels at Dinner
Lady Richards looked at the walking boots that they had been able to purchase in the village. This was as far as she had committed herself. They had bought the boots. A groom informed her later that her coin had been refused: the bill had already been settled.
She, who had been avoiding Mr Steadman's eye for the entire day, had sought his gaze then and let hers’ express her thanks. The look she had received in return had shaken her. How could Mr Oscar Steadman's quiet, serious eyes turn to fire in just a second?
Sally had been the conduit for her learning more about Mr Steadman's situation in life, as she chatted to him in the carriage.
'Is your home many miles from here, Mr Steadman?'
'I have a small estate five miles the other side of Audley. Ten miles from Studham, then.'
'Ah!' said Sally. 'Yet you are staying at Audley now, you said.'
'Yes. I have some pressing business in the area which requires my attention. It is too far to ride each day, so my friend houses me.'
'The marquis is leaving for town in some days,' said Sally — and there was something in her voice that her mother would consider later, 'I hope that will not upset your plans.'
'Perhaps I shall ask my other old friend to house me instead. Do you think I might add to your party?' Lady Richards dropped her reticule on the floor of the carriage and Mr Steadman retrieved it, handing it to her and saying, 'Should you object, ma'am?'
'St … stay at Studham?' Lady Richards asked faintly. 'I … it is hardly my place …'
Sally was surprised by her mother's lack of address. She had been oddly distracted since the Curtis affair, and Sally had tried hard to restore her to her normal spirits. 'We are guests there too. For my part, another guest at the dinner table would be welcome.' Sally sighed. 'You heard a little of our situation, sir. It is useless to pretend it is a completely happy one.'
'That might change very soon,' said Mr Steadman. 'Sometimes things change in the blink of an eye.'
'Oh yes,' Sally agreed. 'For us it was in the blink of an eye that Miss Eames arrived. Everything changed after that.'
'She seems a remarkable young woman,' Mr Steadman reflected.
Sally looked at him askance. Did Mr Steadman wish to pursue Ianthe? He never seemed to engage her in conversation, but then he was a quiet man. For all the machinations that her mother must have put in while she had walked with Audley, Sally felt no interest more than politeness in her direction. It had relieved her, for she hated to give offence, and Mr Steadman did not have laughing eyes or a teasing smile… but because of his lack of interest in her, she had found herself relaxed in talking to this strangely upright figure. It was a shame, Mr Steadman seemed like the perfect gentleman. The care he took of her mama, for instance, she could only admire. His hand was on her elbow to help her over rough cobbles, he had set the chair for her at the bootmakers’ shop, he had enquired whether she needed to rest after their tour of the village and had bought them all refreshments at the inn. He had declared the window draughty and had insisted that her mama exchanged seats with him. He held her chair back like some gentleman of old. If he had had a feathered hat and a cape, Sally thought that he might have laid the cloak over puddles and swept his hat off in a magnificent bow. His manners excelled the more casual modern manners of Fox or even Audley, and Sally admired them.
'Tell us a little about your home, Mr Steadman.'
'It is very old, from old Queen Elizabeth’s time, in fact, with the odd wing added rather haphazardly in the centuries after. It has not the opulence of Audley nor the grandeur of Studham, but I think it the prettiest house in the county.' He laughed. 'You must excuse my bias. It is a fine old house to grow up in, and my parents were very happy there.' He smiled. 'I like my house in London too, not as large as Fox House, but it is situated in a good place for all the Seasons’ amusements.'
'Do you spend much time there?' asked Sally.
'Not so very much. But I enjoy London and I would happily extend my visits there if my circumstances changed.'
He could only be talking about his marriage! Sally believed that this quiet gentleman was setting out his stall so frankly so that she and her mother would inform Ianthe of his comfortable circumstances. Sally found a second to whisper this to her mother.
Lady Richards was frozen and on fire by turns. The three glances they had exchanged directly during the day had almost made her swoon. As he exchanged chairs with her at the inn, he had looked at her so lovingly that it seemed to melt her insides. He had held her elbow once more and said, 'Are you quite well, my lady?' in a way that had sounded caring but that she knew to be teasing her. How it was possible to feel a searing heat, through the layers of pelisse and dress, she did not know. She had held his sleeve back as they left the inn and hissed, 'Pray do not look at me! Do not touch me.'
He did not turn to her, but she thought his body shook with a chuckle. 'I shall do worse.'
It was no wonder that she was a nervous wreck. The prospect of having to meet Curtis Fox at dinner, which had loomed so large in her mind earlier, now was but the bite of a gnat. Easily squashed.
***
Sally had visited Ianthe's room before dinner and found her much restored in spirits. She was wearing one of the Paris gowns that Sally so envied, this time in striped pink silk with a broad band beneath the bust. The cut was excellent, slimmer than the English style. It was adorned at the low neckline with a starched gauze ruffle that gave it a regal touch. Ianthe wore her hair high and clasped around her neck was a ruby collar, three strands of intricately set fine rubies, that enhanced her long neck to perfection.
'Oh!' sighed Sally. 'How beautiful! But for dinner here at Studham—' Sally gasped as Ianthe took her arm and clasped a diamond bracelet over her wrist. The French maid was at her other side, and had put a diamond hair ornament beside Sally's shining top knot. 'Whatever—?'
'Take these to your mother, and bid her wear them tonight.' Sally's hands were full of the enormously long pearl string and she looked perplexed. 'They may not be so fashionable these days — but ask her to wear them for me. I'll await you both at the top of the stairs.'
Lady Richards, the pearls making a four-tier collar around her neck and falling becomingly over the bosom of her blush satin gown, rushed to meet Ianthe, who was standing back upright, at the top of the stairs. 'I'm wearing them, Ianthe, but why—?'
'Let us to dinner, ladies,' said Ianthe calmly and all of them were shown into the dining room direct, for the family, said Jenkins, awaited them. Ianthe smiled at him as she passed, and then she met the eye of the dragon-lady.
Lady Fox, her mouth ready to castigate her guests for their rude tardiness, gasped, as did her son Curtis, at the ladies' entrance. She could not speak.
The Richards took their seats first, and then Ianthe settled herself opposite Curtis' habitual chair next to his mother's. The gentlemen sat, and Fox took a seat opposite the ladies, next to Curtis. This caused some choreography with place settings being moved from the head of the table, undertaken by Jenkins and two footmen with silent efficiency.
'You are decked with finery this evening, Miss Eames,' sneered Lady Fox. 'No doubt some gentleman sent these to you.'
Ianthe blinked, as Fox saw, and her back stiffened and she opened her mouth, but Fox said lazily. 'They were her mother's.'
Lady Fox did not look reassured by this information. Her eyes slid to the Richards and noticed for the firs
t time the fine diamond bracelet on Sally and the pearls which glowed on Lady Richards' breast.
'Where have you these—?' Curtis spluttered. 'They must be worth—'
'Do not be vulgar, Curtis,' reprimanded Fox, bored.
'She has borrowed them from me, Mr Fox,' answered Ianthe.
The baroness' bosom swelled. 'You are all,' intoned Lady Fox at her most disapproving, 'vastly overdressed for a family party.' As she herself was wearing a handsome diamond necklace and a silken gown over-trimmed with lace, as well as a crystal tiara (worn, Ianthe knew, to make her dependants feel her superiority) this was a ridiculous remark.
'Really? It is just that we should not like to appear as beggars at your table, your ladyship.'
Sally and Lady Richards gasped, and Fox let out a burst of laughter. Curtis blushed and looked down.
'What ludicrous thing will you next say to cause offence, Miss Eames…?'
'It is not Ianthe who first said it, your ladyship, but Curtis.'
Lady Fox looked at sea, then her eyes went to her son's. 'My son would never say such things to a lady.'
'I did not, Mama,' Curtis pleaded. 'If Fox passed on what I said in anger, only because he provoked me, Mama…'
'Did you carry a tale to our guests about my son?' said Her Ladyship, with narrowed eyes on her stepson.
'No. Curtis shouted so loudly that the ladies overheard us.' He looked first at his stepmother and then at his brother. 'The Marquis of Audley heard it too, as did Mr Oscar Steadman. They were,' said Fox with relish, 'quite disgusted.'
'Curtis!' Lady Fox was humiliated.
'He hit me, Mama!' Curtis cried.
Ianthe, who had been eating calmly throughout this interchange said, before Lady Fox could turn wrath upon her stepson, 'The Marquis of Audley said that he would have hit you much sooner.' She put her fork to her mouth and ate, her eyes blandly regarding Curtis.
'Apologise, Curtis!' said Lady Fox, in a voice Curtis had never heard directed at him.
Ianthe blinked. She had not quite believed this possible.
Curtis quaked, but had the grace to look shame-faced. 'I … I am deeply sorry, Lady Richards, Miss Richards,' he said, meeting their eye for a tenth of a second each. 'If Fox had not provoked me … but no, I was wrong and insulting, but I swear I never meant you to hear… That is neither here nor there, I … I should never have used words—'
'Desist!' screamed Lady Fox, 'I did not mean to them, but to the marquis and Mr Steadman.'
'So, this is where Curtis learns his manners,' remarked Ianthe to Lady Richards at her side. She had not troubled to lower her voice and the baroness frowned awfully, but her cheeks rouged.
Lady Richards gasped and her pearls rattled against a plate, drawing the baroness' eye. 'You have had your apology,' said Lady Fox with heightened colour. 'It was not nice of my son to mention your circumstances,' Lady Richards blushed at this verification of Curtis' insult, 'but you well know that his brother makes it his business to goad him, and must not mind it.' This was said in the tone of command, and Sally took exception to it, but her mother nudged her before she could respond.
Ianthe said calmly, 'Why, how could Lady Richards doubt her welcome when her hosts treat her so warmly?' Lady Fox met her ironic eye with pinched lips. 'You must not be concerned, Curtis. It is unlikely that the marquis will tell the district that you behaved so shabbily.' Curtis was now livid, as well as flushed with humiliation. There was a moment's silence, then Ianthe appeared to think again. 'But Mr Steadman, now. I am not sure whether he is so tight-lipped. He did look very conscious, did he not?'
She appealed to the two Richards ladies and Sally said with a courage born of the insult to her mama, 'He clenched his fist.'
'I suppose he said in actions what Audley had already said in words.'
'This topic has worn itself out,’ said Lady Fox with finality. 'Let us finish our meal in silence, if you please.'
They did so, and presently the ladies left for the withdrawing room (their hostess sadly deserting them for her bed) while Fox sat opposite the humiliated Curtis, rolling some brandy around his glass. 'Your follies are catching up with you, Curtis.' The young man could not look up, and after a moment Fox relented somewhat. 'You are young yet, there is time to make peace in your life. You are the heir of Studham, it is true. But your mama has led you to the false expectation of inheritance. I have always meant to marry eventually — but even if I did not, there are but six years between us. Unless I die an early death, you will have a short reign as king.'
Curtis gasped.
'Unless you kill me. Is that it, Curtis? You act as though you want me dead.' Curtis rose from the table and went to the fireplace, standing with his back to his brother. 'Father left you with the estate in Wiltshire and an income. Can you really not manage on that?'
'You would love nothing better than that mother and I move there and let you take our home, take what is ours.'
Fox sighed heavily. 'It was always mine, Curtis. Was there ever a day of your life when you did not know that?' Curtis said nothing. 'Studham is your home and you may stay as long as you please, of course. But if I have wanted you gone, Curtis, can you blame me? Can you really? Is this hell we live in the happiness you seek?' Fox took a swig of brandy. 'This was once a happy home, you do not know. There was laughter and kindness here. I had almost forgotten it, until lately. I remember Audley chasing me around this very table years ago, along with our friends. There was noise and tumult in this place, it was alive. And then it changed.'
'You blame my mother. Your mother was a saint, no doubt. I have heard the servants talk. "It was very different in Lady Hester's day!" My mother changed Studham, that's what you all mean.'
'It happened before that,' said Fox quietly.
Curtis turned then, a resentful face giving way to genuine interest. 'How so?'
'My father changed after Mama died. Noise was forbidden, as were smiles. He no longer played with me, talked to me. He did not see me for more than five minutes a day for over three years. No one was allowed into the house. When your mother arrived, at least some of that changed. I was allowed to eat some meals with them. If I behaved correctly, I could converse at the table. I thought eventually she would like me, but she never did, and especially once she was full of child. Any interest she had taken in me halted.'
'She said you were an unruly, ungrateful child,' Curtis said, but it was in a tone that was bemused, rather than resentful.
'I probably was. What I am trying to say is that I do not altogether blame your mother for not liking me. But I do blame her for raising you with unreasonable expectations. Otherwise, we might have been friends.' Fox bowed at his brother, somewhat formally. 'Goodnight, Curtis.' He left the room.
Curtis sat with the brandy at his elbow, staring into the fire for some hours. But the butler, clearing up the next morning, noticed that little inroads had been made to the decanter, and that the young gentleman's glass was still half full.
Chapter Nineteen
The Fifth Ride
Before leaving Audley, Mr Fenton had dispatched a number of missives. One was addressed to a Mr Rigby-Blyth, lawyer, of Beltane Buildings, London. It contained another note inside, addressed to one Mr Mosely.
Dear Mr Mosely,
I require you to find some information for me. Discover how long the Comte d'Emillion-Orsay has been in England. I do not believe it could be more than a month. Any information about his route here, or other passengers who arrived at the same time, might be useful too.
I am in Kent at the moment, but leave today, so you may visit me at your earliest convenience at my home. I may have another related job for you, so you should make preparations to visit this county, where the comte is at present to be found.
You have been the champion of two young friends of mine, Delphine, the present Viscountess Gascoigne, was the first you aided, I have discovered. Then my own dear Felicity, now Lady Durant. It is amusing to think that another young beauty needs your as
sistance, but so it is. A local servant has been put onto it, but I would refine more confidence in your sharply pointed nose, sir.
Until tomorrow then,
Wilbert Fenton Esq.
***
It can be intuited from the story so far that Ianthe Eames liked to tackle her problems head on. And so, it was that after shedding a tear at the affectionate note from Antoine d'Emillion-Orsay, she resolved to evade her protectors (Cherie and Fox) and meet him.
She had thus far never been able to see Antoine with a steady heart, but there was something different about her now. Something that she had seen in Fox's eyes when he was so passionately concerned, something unspoken between them that gave her courage now. Once he knew what she had done he would rage at her. She had seen his passion, his true spirit that he tried to hide beneath the curmudgeonly shell, almost from the first. She had at first decided to set it free in the face of his inept dealings with his stepmother and Curtis. Let him see how he could use it to help himself, rather than treat it like some animal in him he had to cage only in order to live with two of the most unpleasant people in Christendom. They, of course, were only like that because of their own problems, but Ianthe could not spare herself for every battle. She had chosen the hidden man she had seen inside Fox, the one who told her she might stay despite what he would suffer from his step-mama, or when he had offered to protect her from the other Foxes.
Lady Fox's problems might already have petrified whatever heart she once had, and Ianthe had given up the attempt to thoroughly understand her. No, the best she could do was stop the dreadful woman hurting the others under this roof. Whether Curtis might be saved she had not considered very long since his manner had so repulsed her. But at the dinner table this evening he had looked ashamed, whether by the social consequences of his words or from real insight, Ianthe could not tell. But she had seen Fox notice, and she had some hopes that, restored in spirit as he had begun to be, he might reach out to young Curtis in a better way, giving the surly youth some chance to become a man.
Ianthe and the Fighting Foxes: The Fentons Book 4 Page 15
