by Ann Barker
Ilam was still talking to the clerical gentleman. He turned his head and looked at her for a long moment, then placed his hand under his companion’s elbow, and walked with him towards the house. She had just watched them out of sight, and was reprimanding herself for standing so long admiring the length of his lordship’s muscular legs and manly stride, when someone caught hold of her arm.
‘Eustacia, my dear, have you seen Gabriel?’ Lady Agatha was looking as alarmed as her goddaughter had ever seen her. Her hands fluttered restlessly, now clasping at each other, now smoothing her gown. Her eyes did not meet those of Eustacia as she turned her head first one way then the other, trying to discern where her nephew might be.
‘He’s just gone into the house,’ Eustacia replied. ‘Have you seen Miss Granby? I promised that I would take a turn with her later.’
‘No, I haven’t,’ replied Lady Agatha impatiently. ‘Was he alone?’
‘He had someone with him,’ replied Eustacia. ‘A clergyman, I think.’ Her gaze locked with that of her godmother. ‘Oh good God, no,’ she exclaimed.
‘Yes,’ answered Lady Agatha. ‘The bishop has caught up with him, and now there will be all hell to pay! Come on!’
‘Come on where?’
‘Into the house, of course! If the bishop is blackening my name, I want to be there to defend myself.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘What do you mean?’ Ilam asked the bishop, drawing his brows together. ‘How has my aunt been obstructive?’
‘Rather ask, how has she not been obstructive!’ the bishop replied. He was of medium height with a slight stoop, and plainly dressed, his clerical wig proclaiming his calling. ‘She has continued to occupy the vicarage for far longer than would normally have been expected. Mind you, I do not hold back from saying that I blame you for that, my lord, at least in part.’
‘Blame me?’ echoed Ilam in completely baffled tones.
‘To be plain with you, her ladyship has implied that she will have nowhere else to go if she is forced to leave the vicarage,’ responded the bishop in blunt tones. ‘The church is not in the business of putting people out into the street.’
‘Neither am I,’ Ilam informed him. ‘Despite what you may have been told, my aunt could easily find a home, either with me or on her brother’s estate. May I pour you a glass of sherry?’
‘Thank you,’ the clerical gentleman replied. ‘I can see that there is more than one piece of confusion that may need to be sorted out. Talking of Lord Ashbourne—’
‘Were we?’ murmured Ilam.
‘I believe so. I understood from your aunt that he was travelling in Greece and therefore could not be approached, but that he would unhesitatingly support her because her knowledge of local interests would be superior to his.’
Ilam gave a crack of laughter. ‘Do you know Lord Ashbourne?’ he asked.
The bishop’s face stiffened. ‘Only by repute,’ he answered.
‘Then you will be unaware that the only notice that his lordship would take of his sister would be to do the opposite of what she wanted. By the way, he isn’t in Greece, he’s in Italy. Incidentally, why the deuce haven’t you been applying to me? You must know that in his absence I deal with all matters pertaining to the estate.’
The bishop’s pale cheeks flushed. ‘Her ladyship gave me to understand that as far as you were concerned the church could go hang.’
‘Did she indeed?’ asked Ilam, his eye kindling.
‘Not only that, but she has threatened one of my priests and offered him physical violence.’
‘That would be Lusty, I suppose,’ said his lordship.
‘That insect!’
The two men turned to where Lady Agatha was standing on the threshold, awesome in her righteous anger.
‘Ah, Aunt Agatha,’ exclaimed Gabriel, in tones of assumed affability that fooled no one. ‘Please come and join us. I am finding out all sorts of interesting things, and am discovering how much wool you have pulled over my eyes.’
‘None at all,’ responded her ladyship. ‘The church is seeing fit to throw me out of my home; my home, Ilam, to which your uncle brought me thirty years ago. In order to do so, it has sent that insect Lusty to do its dirty work. The man would not leave my premises when I asked. How else was I to effect his departure save by throwing him out?’
‘My lady, they are not your premises,’ answered the bishop. ‘They belong to the church.’
‘The church of which my sainted husband was a vicar, and where he remained appointed until the hour of his death,’ answered her ladyship. ‘He was never relieved of his position. Therefore he is still the vicar in principle and I am still entitled to reside in the vicarage.’
‘Balderdash!’ exclaimed Ilam. ‘My grandfather was Lord Ashbourne and died in that office. That does not mean that he continued to be Lord Ashbourne after his death.’
‘He died in the performance of his duties,’ insisted Lady Agatha.
‘He fell into a newly dug grave on his way back from the vestry having over-indulged in communion wine,’ answered Ilam brutally.
Eustacia gasped audibly. ‘Lord Ilam, how can you be so brutal?’ she demanded.
Ignoring her interruption, he went on. ‘Aunt, you are not entitled to be there; and whilst you have been occupying that house illegally, the people of this village have been denied the pastoral care that was their right.’
‘That is not true,’ his aunt insisted, flushing. ‘See if you can find anyone who has been sick who has not received a visit from the vicarage. I defy you to do so.’
‘Tom Seppings was like to die last week,’ said Ilam quietly. ‘He wanted to see a priest. There was none. Luckily he rallied, but what if he had not? And what of Mrs Ross?’
For the first time, Lady Agatha’s gaze dropped from his. She walked slowly away from the entrance to the room, and towards a chair, with Eustacia holding her arm.
‘I’m all right, child,’ said the older lady. ‘No doubt these two gentlemen will acknowledge your presence in their own good time. Fetch me a glass of sherry, will you?’
‘I beg your pardon, ma’am,’ said Ilam to Eustacia, inclining his head. ‘This is my aunt’s goddaughter, Miss Hope,’ he told the bishop. ‘Miss Hope, this is the Bishop of Sheffield.’
‘Ah, this is the young lady who has … has suffered a severe disappointment, and is somewhat delicate in health,’ said the bishop, his tone dropping and becoming warmer. ‘Pray sit down, my dear, and do not fear my clerical attire. I will not do you any harm.’
Ilam gave another crack of laughter. ‘Save your sympathy, Bishop,’ he said. ‘The young lady is in as excellent health as I am.’
‘You are very arrogant in your pronouncements, Ilam,’ replied Lady Agatha.
‘Am I?’ he asked quizzically. ‘I don’t think so. I’m willing to hazard a guess that Miss Hope has not been jilted by a clergyman, or indeed by anyone at all. I don’t believe that she’s suffered a day’s illness in her life. In fact, I am convinced that she is nearly as deeply involved in this matter as are you, Aunt.’
‘I have not been jilted by a clergyman,’ Eustacia agreed, blushing, ‘but—’
‘Eustacia has been all that is kind and helpful,’ interrupted Lady Agatha, sitting up straight in her chair. It was as if the attack on her goddaughter had put spirit back into her. ‘I regret to have to say that she has proved to be far kinder to me than my own nephew. Do not dare to pour scorn upon her misfortune. It was for that reason that her mother sent her to me.’
‘And because of Lord Ashbourne’s interest in her and concern for her well-being,’ the bishop put in helpfully.
‘Indeed,’ put in Ilam, staring at her for one long moment.
‘No indeed,’ retorted Eustacia, turning bright red. ‘Lord Ashbourne has nothing to do with it.’
‘But my lord, I am completely at a loss,’ said the bishop in baffled tones after a short pause. ‘What is this all about?’
‘Have you not realized,
even now?’ demanded Ilam scornfully. ‘My aunt, who is so devious a person that she might give Beelzebub a run for his money, has been bamboozling you from start to finish, and so has the innocent-seeming Miss Hope. She has no right to be in the vicarage and no reason to stay there.’
‘Ilam!’ exclaimed her ladyship in outraged tones.
‘And Lord Ashbourne and his concern for the young lady’s condition?’ enquired the bishop. Deathly silence fell as the implication of his words sank in.
‘I do not have any condition,’ exclaimed Eustacia, her voice trembling.
‘No, no, of course not, my dear young lady,’ declared the bishop hastily, drawing out his handkerchief and mopping his brow. It was his turn to go red. ‘No one would dream of thinking it.’
‘Of course not, my dear,’ added Lady Agatha soothingly.
‘Judging by her evident talent for scheming, I would have said that anything was possible,’ Ilam drawled. Eustacia looked at him. He was leaning negligently against the table in the centre of the room with his legs crossed and his arms folded and one brow slightly raised. In that moment, he was the image of his father. She walked across to him, drew back her arm and slapped him hard across the face. Then, amid horrified exclamations from Lady Agatha and the bishop and a hastily repressed oath from Lord Ilam, she gathered her skirts and ran out of the room.
She had not gone very far when she heard footsteps behind her. Then she felt her arm being seized, and turning, she found herself facing the viscount. He looked furious, an expression which was accentuated, if anything, by the red mark on his cheek.
‘No you don’t,’ he said in minatory tones.
‘How dare you! Let go of me!’ she demanded.
‘Not until I’ve had my say. I know that my aunt is not the most truthful of people—’
‘An understatement if ever there was one,’ Eustacia interjected, shaking her arm. Now, he did release her.
‘But I had thought better of you,’ he went on, as if she had not spoken. ‘I was told you had had your heart broken by a clergyman and this is now revealed to be untrue. I’ve also been told that you were ill, and that, too, has been proved to be a lie. Nor are you the impoverished young woman that rumour has reported you to be. Instead, I find that you are aiding my aunt in her unprincipled deception of the church and the bishop.’
‘That isn’t fair,’ Eustacia retorted. ‘I didn’t tell you any of those lies.’
‘Didn’t you? What about fainting in my presence?’
She stared at him, blushing. She had forgotten that. ‘I didn’t set out to deceive you,’ she protested in a small voice.
‘Perhaps not; but you could have sought me out at any time, and told me the truth. Why did you not do so?’
‘I was going to,’ she told him. When he looked doubtful, she added, ‘It’s true. I was going to, but at first….’
‘Well?’
She looked down. ‘I didn’t think it mattered,’ she replied. ‘You annoyed me and I wanted to get my own back. Anyway, I thought it was just a game.’
There was an ominous silence. ‘A game? To deny the villagers the spiritual guidance and solace to which they are entitled? How old are you, Miss Hope? I thought that you were a grown woman, but you seem to me to have been behaving in as childish a fashion as… as Anna.’ She did not answer him, but hung her head instead. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a cricket match to take part in. You know about cricket, don’t you, Miss Hope? It’s a game in which there are rules, in order to ensure fair play.’ So saying, he turned on his heel and left her.
She did not head for the garden. It was full of people and her emotions were so jumbled up that she had no desire to confront anyone at that moment. The door by which she had left the room gave onto a corridor, at the end of which was a flight of stairs. She ran up to the next landing, turned to the left, and more by luck than by good judgement, found herself in the passage that led to her room. She went inside, shut the door and sat down on the bed. She felt she needed a time of quiet reflection so that she could recover her composure after the awful scene that had just taken place.
How she wished now that she had made more of an effort to speak to Ilam and explain things. Of course he had a right to be angry. She had put him into a most awkward position, but she had to admit that although the confrontation had been unpleasant, she was glad that Ilam now knew the truth. He had also discovered it in a way that had meant that she had not had to betray Lady Agatha. She would be able to stay in the village; except for the fact that Ilam’s disapproval might now make that impossible.
She would have liked to go straight back to the vicarage, and would have done so but for two considerations. The first was that she had no intention of allowing Ilam to think that he had intimidated her. The second was that it would be a shockingly disloyal act towards her godmother. She would just have to endure the day as best she might; and to think that she had been so much looking forward to it!
She felt her heart sink right down into her sandals. She could not delude herself. He could be as angry as he pleased. He might even make her just as angry in return. It did not alter the way that she felt about him. Thinking about that made her realize that there was another reason for staying; he might seek her out and forgive her.
By the time Eustacia had composed herself sufficiently to come outside and rejoin the company, most of those who had come to the garden party had already gathered to watch the cricket match. This took place on one of the fields just beyond the ha-ha. Lord Ilam captained one of the teams, and the other was led by Mr Granby who, apart from his sentimental approach to his daughter, whom he always addressed as angel, my precious, or something similar, seemed to be a very sensible man.
The game was already underway, Mr Granby having won the toss and chosen that his team should be the first to bat. Eustacia looked round for her godmother and found her sitting on a chair in the sun. She opened her sunshade and sat down next to her.
‘Are you all right, my dear?’ asked her ladyship quietly. ‘I declare I could murder my nephew after the things he said!’
‘He wasn’t very polite,’ Eustacia agreed.
‘Polite? I’ve never heard anything so rude. His insinuations about you and Ashbourne were quite unforgivable, and so I told him.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Nothing much. He ran after you moments later. I don’t suppose it was to apologize?’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ Eustacia answered. She would have liked to ask if the late vicar had indeed perished in the manner in which Ilam had described, but she did not know how to approach the subject. Perhaps she would ask Trixie to find out later.
At that moment, Ilam came running in to bowl to Mr Granby, who looked quite menacing, bat in hand. ‘Good,’ said her ladyship fiercely. ‘I hope he knocks his block off. Call himself a nephew! Judas is what I would call him.’
Glancing round hastily, Eustacia saw with some relief that no one else was sitting near them. She was glad that her aunt had regained her customary self-possession. She had been rather anxious when Lady Agatha had asked for a glass of sherry when Ilam had confronted her in the house. For the first time since Eustacia had met her, the vicar’s widow had looked old.
In order to divert her thoughts, she tried to concentrate on the game. It seemed as if Mr Granby had not knocked Lord Ilam’s block off. On the contrary, he was having some difficulty in dealing with the ball which his lordship had just delivered.
Eustacia had had the opportunity of watching cricket being played at home, and had never previously taken any interest in it, always thinking it a rather dull game. She could vaguely remember her father trying to explain the rules to her, and they had seemed to her to be impossibly complicated. Even when Morrison had been playing, her only wish had been that he might finish his turn very quickly so that he might sit with her. Never had she gained any pleasure from watching him as she did now from watching Ilam.
As a diversion from her romantic feelings t
owards his lordship, however, it could not have been said to be entirely successful. The energetic nature of the game meant that those involved were obliged to take off their coats and, if applicable, their waistcoats and cravats. She was therefore treated to the rather distracting sight of Ilam’s shirt being moulded to his form by the action of the breeze. She was also able to observe the ripple of the muscles in his thighs as he ran forward in order to propel the ball in Granby’s direction.
At that point, a particularly fine delivery on his lordship’s part knocked the stumps behind Mr Granby clean out of the ground. A cheer went up from the viscount’s side, and Granby left the field looking rueful. Ilam’s face was lit up by a broad grin, and as Eustacia looked at him, he turned his head and their eyes met for a brief instant. It was a moment or two before the smile died out of his eyes. He looked at her for a little longer, then turned away. Suddenly, she felt very hot. ‘Godmama,’ she asked, ‘do you mind if I go and sit in the shade?’
Her godmother looked at her, frowning. ‘You are a little flushed. Run along. As you see, Dr Littlejohn is now coming to join me, so I shan’t be alone.’
She walked to the nearest clump of trees, where Anna Crossley was sitting with two or three other girls of her own age. They were clearly listening avidly to what she had to say, but when Eustacia approached, they all fell silent. She did not make the mistake of supposing that they had been talking about her. Given Anna’s infatuation, she was sure that the girl had been regaling them with her dreams about Ilam. She had met them briefly earlier on in the day and now asked if they minded if she joined them.
