Lord Satan

by Judith Laik

  Libbetty was surprised at the marquess’s casual attitude toward his properties, but on sure ground, since she had witnessed the decay in her surroundings firsthand, and also the neglect was a topic that had caused her father to frequently rail about aristocratic disdain for the common man.

  She didn’t care now about giving offense. “I’m not speaking of repairs to The Castle, sir. Although I think it a pity to let a place of historical interest to go to pieces, it cannot compare with your tenants’ hardships when their roofs leak or their barns fall down. With such treatment your best farmers may leave, and the lands will go to wrack and ruin. When your rents fall off as a result of that, you cannot help but notice.”

  He stared at her. “What an odd subject for a pretty young lady to interest herself in.”

  She blushed, knowing she had overstepped herself.

  “I’ll tell Uncle Neil about it. Naturally, if Reynolds has neglected his duties, he will be replaced.”

  “Oh no, sir. You must not think Mr. Reynolds is not conscientious about his duties. If anything, too much so, but he needs more supervision.”

  “That’s precisely what I mean. What good is a steward one must oversee all the time? Might as well stay home and do the job yourself. Uncle Neil is too busy to keep running down here, and I will be rejoining my regiment shortly.”

  “Why is your uncle too busy to come here?” Libbetty asked.

  The young man paled and he shifted his gaze aside. She had blundered into delicate matters. Her determination to investigate Lord Neil, and the friendly feelings she had acquired toward the invalid, had led her into a rude inquisitiveness.

  “He is very active in the government,” Cauldreigh finally said.

  Feeling heat rush to her face, she replied lamely, “Oh, I didn’t know.” Conversation languished again. A maid entering with a tea tray provided a desperately sought distraction.

  Lord Cauldreigh seemed to notice that Edwina had yet to contribute. He asked, “Miss Hogwood, would you please pour?”

  Edwina had been well schooled in the rituals of tea, and she prettily did the honors.

  While she poured, the marquess spoke to Edwina. “I look forward to taking part in the social life around here once I am recovered. Are there any assemblies or concerts I might attend?”

  “No.” Edwina’s hand shook a little as she handed him the tea, making the cup and saucer rattle.

  Libbetty concluded that Edwina’s nerves at meeting the marquess had robbed her of the power to think, for Crossfield, only a few miles away, offered assemblies, and she knew Edwina had attended two last autumn.

  In addition, Peasebotham’s musical society met on alternate Tuesday evenings, in the rooms above the village offices. The society was made up of amateurs, but contained some fine musicians, including Libbetty’s youngest sister, eleven-year-old Isobel. The society had invited her to perform some three times, despite her youth. Mr. Bishop had reluctantly permitted this.

  Since her runaway tongue had already disgraced her, however, Libbetty would not embarrass Edwina by correcting her. She kept a resolute silence, sipping her tea and eating a cream cake.

  The marquess appeared to have difficulty managing his saucer of tea in his half-reclining position and soon gave up. Their brief acquaintanceship did not permit Libbetty to offer any help. Anyway, his expression of distaste when he sipped the tea gave her the impression he would have preferred some stronger drink. He ate three or four of the cakes. Edwina touched neither her tea nor any of the other refreshments.

  After several further conversational gambits by the marquess resulted in monosyllabic responses from Edwina, he turned in resignation to Libbetty and said, “You seem to know quite a bit about the district, Miss Bishop. Are you acquainted with the families on my farms?”

  *

  Neil sat in his study, his attention divided between his correspondence and regrets for leaving the younger people alone. He should have commandeered Miss Bishop and left Miss Hogwood to Trevor—no, he should not have, despite the challenge in the wide blue eyes of the vicar’s daughter.

  So why he should find himself at the door to Trevor’s room, he did not know. “Oh, good, you are having tea.” He strolled into the room, ignoring Trevor’s glower, and pulled the bell cord, summoning a servant. An awkward silence hung heavily in the room, and Neil wondered what the animated conversation he’d heard through the door had been about. Whatever it was, no one seemed inclined to continue it. When a servant came, he said, “Send in some more hot tea and another cup.”

  At this, Miss Hogwood affectedly checked the watch that hung from her neck chain. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “I did not realize it was so late. We must leave at once.”

  “Oh, please don’t go yet, ladies,” Trevor begged.

  “Thank you, but I must return home.” The squire’s daughter’s face looked almost stern to Neil, an expression he would not have thought such a mouse of a girl could ever affect.

  “If you must. You will come back, won’t you? Now that I am better, I need company.” Trevor almost looked ready to cry.

  “I would be pleased to call another day.”

  Trevor eyed Miss Bishop, but she only nodded and smiled at him. She did not look directly at Neil, but he noted the sidelong glances she cast his way.

  When the ladies had gone, Trevor looked at the chessboard and asked, “Want to finish the game?”

  The grizzled old soldier who served as Trevor’s valet entered the room. “‘E needs ‘is rest, I’d say.”

  Neil observed Trevor’s heavy-lidded, glazed stare, and concluded Corcoran had the right of it. He perched in the chair recently vacated by Miss Bishop—and still warm. Immediately, he pictured her shapely form nestled where he now sat, then vanquished the unsought vision just as quickly. “No, I just came to see how you enjoyed your callers.”

  “Oh, ‘twas most amusing. One of them had scarce a word to say, and the other took me to task for neglecting my duties as landlord.” The amused sparkle in his eyes belied his acid tone.

  Neil frowned. “‘Neglecting your duties’?”

  “It seems all my properties are falling to pieces, not just this old heap of a castle.” Trevor picked up one of the pawns and tossed it from hand to hand.

  “I needn’t ask which of your callers reprimanded you.” Neil smiled, thinking of the vicar’s spirited daughter.

  “Is her accusation true?”

  “About your properties falling apart? Yes, I fear so. I have observed a certain amount of dilapidation.”

  “How could Reynolds let the farms go to ruin? Should we replace him with someone younger?”

  “The problems can be laid at my door, I think. Reynolds obviously fears to authorize such large expenditures himself but quakes in his boots at the prospect of confronting me.”

  “Why that sniveling milksop!” Trevor’s knuckles whitened around the pawn in his hand. “I shall certainly find another steward, and as well replace anyone else who is so cowardly that they believe the preposterous rumors about you.”

  Neil laughed. “Are you prepared to send away all your tenants and the whole village of Peasebotham? Don’t worry, halfling. I am used to people’s opinions of me. I’ll have a talk with Reynolds, and make sure he presents a list of all the needed repairs needed to the farms and other properties.”

  “It goes against the grain with me not to stop the senseless speculation.”

  “You can only do that if you marry and fill your nursery with a half-dozen sons. Everyone would then decide I must give up my ambitions with that many between me and the title.”

  “That’s more of a sacrifice than I’m prepared to make right now,” Trevor admitted.

  Neil stood up. “In truth, I have been less than vigilant in carrying out my guardianship. I felt certain that The Castle must be crumbling but didn’t realize the other properties were in the same case. I thought I hated The Castle enough not to care if it fell down. When I last left here, I had quarreled with my fath
er and vowed never to come back.”

  “You quarreled over me?” Trevor lay back on the couch. His pallor had deepened.

  Neil resolved to give the lad time to rest. He tugged at the bell-pull. “Among other things. Let me help you back into bed. We’ll discuss this later.”

  “You needn’t have worried. Aunt Madeline was kind and had a nursery full of children for me to play with. I liked it there.”

  “I didn’t know that when Father sent you away, and neither did he. He didn’t make the decision because he believed it best for you. He didn’t want a reminder of his treacherous son about him, but I felt you belonged here.”

  “It’s strange that Maude has returned,” Trevor said after a pause. “Do you believe she was married to this Whitelow?”

  “It doesn’t matter whether she was or not. I only wish we could force her to go back to America.”

  “She inherited Rose Farm. She has a right to live here. I confess I’d like to see her. Maybe I could understand what my father saw in her to make him throw his life away.” His voice trailed off in a yawn.

  Neil placed his arm about Trevor’s shoulder and hoisted him. Trevor’s valet reentered the room and supported the marquess at his other side back into his bed. Neil tucked him in. “She was very curious about you, you know,” Trevor murmured.

  Neil started to ask Trevor whom he meant, but saw the younger man had already fallen asleep. I don’t need to ask. ‘Tis the impertinent one—the vicar’s daughter.

  He smiled.

  Chapter Six

  Libbetty glanced over her shoulder as she and Edwina descended the stairs, but Lord Neil didn’t follow. Why did Edwina choose to leave just as he came back into the room? Libbetty wanted to observe uncle and nephew together, to find a clue to Lord Neil’s purpose. And she could not remain at The Castle without a female companion.

  A liveried footman showed them to the stableyard. As she waited for their mounts to be brought out, Libbetty kept picturing Lord Neil’s face. Was he disappointed they had left so soon? Most likely he had come to the room to hurry them along—maybe he had even counted on the girls’ fear of him and used it to speed them on their way.

  That could explain Edwina’s actions. Libbetty must remember how timid her friend was. As the groom helped her into the saddle, she glanced at Edwina’s stiff posture and trembling lips. Could Lord Neil’s presence have frightened her so badly?

  As they rode through the gate, Edwina turned to Libbetty. “What am I to do, Libbetty? I cannot marry Lord Cauldreigh.” Dramatic tears made her eyes glisten like diamonds.

  Libbetty stared. “Edwina, it is too early for you to decide such a thing. You don’t even know that he will offer for you.”

  “My mother expects me to try for him. I cannot simply say I do not wish to marry him. She will say my reasons are trivial and I can overcome my aversion if I try.” Tears rolled down Edwina’s face in earnest now.

  “Are you certain you cannot learn to like him better? You have just met him, after all.”

  Edwina shuddered. “All that talk of wounds and fighting! He—he gloried in such things. I could not bear to be around them. What if he expected me to follow him? I’ve heard some of the officers’ wives accompany them into battle.”

  Libbetty repressed a smile. “Not into battle, Edwina. Although, I am sure many wives do go with their husbands to the Peninsula.” Such a life did not sound comfortable, but she supposed if she loved a man she would prefer to go with him rather than endure a long separation. “If he marries you, perhaps he will give up the army and stay home.”

  “I cannot think it. That fervent light in his eyes when he talked about the war? You must help me, Libbetty.”

  “What can I do?”

  “He seemed to like you. He listened to your boring talk of farmers and crops and all that. You only need to encourage him to attend to you. Then, I can appear to wish for Lord Cauldreigh to court me and Maman cannot blame me if he does not.”

  Libbetty could see flaws in the plan, even distant as she was from Mrs. Hogwood’s pressure. However, if it had even the slightest chance of helping Edwina, she ought to oblige her. Besides, if she encouraged Lord Cauldreigh’s pursuit, she might more easily investigate his uncle’s schemes and perhaps protect the young marquess.

  *

  In the following week, Libbetty’s rides with Edwina seemed to have ended. A spell of warm weather caused Mrs. Bishop to complain of fatigue, and Libbetty helped her as much as possible.

  On the first truly warm day, Mrs. Bishop told her, “I have the headache. The children would like to play outside, but they are too obstreperous for Floss to manage today. If they could take some exercise outside…”

  Seeing her mother’s pinched face, Libbetty replied, “I’ll take them for a walk,” although she felt impatient and on edge, not in a mood to cater to young children.

  When they all had put on sturdy shoes and wraps, Libbetty set off with the children and Floss, the nursemaid, in tow. Scattered puffy clouds scudded by in the afternoon sky, dispersed by a warm wind. Libbetty, restless after several days’ confinement indoors, set a brisk pace across country, through orchards and pastures.

  Richard soon fell behind, stumbling over his skirts. She picked him up and continued walking. The four-year-old had recently outgrown his baby fat, but his face was still round. His deceptively angelic appearance melted her pique and as she carried him in her arms, she planted a kiss on his downy cheek. He snuggled trustfully against her shoulder.

  Even thus burdened, she outpaced her sisters and Henry. “Libbetty, wait!” seven-year-old Henry called out.

  “Oh, hush,” she said. “You wanted to go out in the fresh air. I did not wish to squander my time watching over you.”

  Shortly, they reached her destination, a brook meandering through the apple orchard of a farmer who indulged their trespass. Libbetty and Floss flung themselves down on the grassy bank, Libbetty removing her bonnet as she did so.

  Not waiting for permission, the younger children sat on the bank, removed shoes and stockings and dangled their feet in the water, giggling and shoving each other.

  Floss asked, “Do you think we ought to allow them into the brook? The water is still chilly.”

  Libbetty shrugged. “They became sufficiently heated from the walk, I daresay.” All the same, she warned them, “You had better behave, or I’ll take you back home.”

  She dipped her fingers in the cool water. Unable to resist, she pulled off her sturdy walking shoes and stockings, and, skirts kilted, waded into the stream. Her feet and legs tingled as chilly water swirled around them.

  Henry splashed water at her, and she laughed and chased him, her steps hampered by the drag of the current. The girls waded into the brook to join the game.

  Richard tried to join them, but promptly lost his balance in the current and sat down. He puckered up to cry. Calling out, “Truce,” Libbetty grabbed Richard and swung him high up in the air. When he giggled, she handed him over to Floss, who still sat primly on the bank.

  “Ooh, he’s getting me all wet,” she protested.

  “You’ll dry before we arrive back home.” The others renewed their watery attack, and she swept her arms through the water, making waves that doused her younger siblings thoroughly.

  *

  Neil stopped his horse far enough from the stream to remain unnoticed while he watched the children playing. Splashing and calling to each other, they made a picture of innocent pleasure he saw too seldom. Suddenly he realized one of the children was Elizabeth Bishop. He frowned. He kept forgetting how young she was.

  Yet, the flash of trim calf exposed by her kilted skirts, the curves displayed by the clinging dampness of her simple gown, revealed her to be anything but childish. Innocent she was, however. He had to keep in mind how his besmirched reputation would stain her if he paid her any special attention.

  He rode on, his discontent unassuaged.

  *

  Libbetty saw Lord Neil r
ide away on his black horse. Heat flushed through her and her heart beat faster. Why did he haunt her? She frequently saw him on her rambles, and her thoughts veered to him even more frequently. Why did he occupy her mind so? It couldn’t be fear, despite her conviction of his nefarious purpose. What her true feelings were, she could not sort out.

  She climbed up on the bank, and turned to the others. “It’s time to come out of the water.” They obeyed, grumbling.

  Everybody’s clothing was sopped, but she was not concerned. They sat on the bank, the sun drying their bare feet until the golden orb sank too low in the sky for much warmth. They all put their shoes back on, Floss helping with the younger ones, and set out for home. Richard had fallen asleep, and Libbetty allowed Floss to carry his dead weight.

  Eleven-year-old Isobel and Henry, still full of energy, ran some distance ahead. Floss, her shoulders hunched under the load of the sleeping boy, trudged behind them, lagging farther back.

  Golden light surrounded Libbetty, and the late afternoon atmosphere felt heavy, laden with the scent of grass and earth.

  She dropped farther behind Isobel and Henry, with Catherine, nearly fourteen years of age, beside her. They walked in silence for some minutes, although Libbetty sensed her sister repeatedly glancing at her.

  “Libbetty, may I ask you a question?” the young girl burst out finally.

  “Of course.”

  “Is Mama—I mean, does she—expect a baby?”

  “Why Catherine!” Libbetty was unprepared for the question. Yet she had been younger than Catherine’s present age at Richard’s birth, and she had known her mother’s state.

  “Do not lie to me, Libbetty.”

  “Of course not!” she replied. “I would not lie. What purpose would that serve, anyway? You would soon realize I had not told you the truth.”

  “So she is.” Catherine’s flat tone reflected her opinion of this news.

  “Yes. But how did you know? I do not think she shows overmuch yet.”