Lord Clifford's Dilemma

by Oliver, Marina

  She glanced down.

  'It's nothing. I'm often more scratched than this when I prune the roses at Markby Court. Give me the vicious brute. I'll be ready in a few minutes.'

  *

  When Lord Clifford had ridden up to the house, he saw, with considerable astonishment, Elizabeth poised on what appeared to be a table, reaching up to the top of the window. She wore a tight-fitting habit in a vibrant crimson, with a snowy-white stock, and he was able to admire her slender but shapely figure. He smiled in appreciation. Always an admirer of beautiful women, he thought he had rarely seen one to rival her. Both face and figure were delightful. The occasional smile he had seen had transformed her face and made her even more beautiful, but so far in their acquaintanceship she had been given little cause to smile. He would endeavour to remedy that.

  He handed the reins to Elizabeth's groom, who was already waiting with her horse, and went to the door. The butler admitted him and said Miss Markby was waiting for him in the library. Quite what he had seen her doing as she waited he did not know, but looked forward to discovering it.

  As he entered the room his glance went to the window, but she was not there. It was a moment before he saw her, sitting on the floor and cuddling a tiny bundle of black and white fur.

  Seeing him, she raised a hand in brief acknowledgement. Her smile did indeed enhance her beauty. A few minutes later, when she had taken the kitten back to the kitchens where it belonged, they left the house. Elizabeth signed to her groom to lift her into the saddle. Her mount was a graceful grey mare, with a black mane and tail, which stood patiently while she gathered up the reins, but then, on a signal, began a playful curvetting as Elizabeth turned her to face the hill which led to the Downs.

  He mounted his own jet-black gelding and drew alongside, and with no more than a brief smile they set out at a decorous walk. She did not speak, and he decided to wait until they were on the open Downs before he broached the topic that brought them here.

  He felt sorry for her. Not an unduly hard man, he normally believed people created or at least helped to decide their own destinies by their actions. According to Henry, his sister had a substantial fortune of her own, but she chose to stay with a querulous, demanding mother. Had the girl never had an opportunity to escape, by marriage? He could not understand why not. Surely such a lovely girl would have had offers in plenty.

  Any other method of escape was, he concluded, not open to her. She was not in her first youth, but not old enough to set up her own establishment if she cared anything for the opinion of the ton. Girls of her quality did not enter business, and what could she have done if she wished to? He could not envisage her as the proprietor of a shop, even a fashionable modiste's, or a hotel. She did not need to earn her living, and in any case, becoming a governess or companion to strangers would be worse than her present situation. There had been Henry's comment on her wasting her blunt on village schools, but he assumed this was a charitable action, one of which he approved, and did not involve her teaching at whatever these schools were.

  As they left the houses behind she glanced across at him.

  'You are very silent, my lord. Did you disapprove of my behaviour?'

  'Rescuing the kitten? Of course not. I am fond of animals, though I prefer dogs to cats. No, I was thinking, wondering why you are still unwed,' he replied.

  She must have pulled on the reins, for her mare began to trot, and as soon as they reached the turf she urged her mount into a canter. He followed, admiring her skill, and enjoying the sight of her elegant back so that he made no attempt to draw alongside.

  After a while she dropped to a walk, and then he did ride with her.

  'Have I offended you with my bluntness?'

  'My situation is not your business, my lord. I was once betrothed, but it was a grievous error, and one I am not like to make again. You, however, are somewhat older than I, so I could ask the same question.'

  So she was interested. He grinned to himself. And there was some mystery here. What had happened to make her averse to marriage? He felt a surge of satisfaction. He had, to a small degree, broken through her reserve. She was delightful when she forgot to be cool towards him, as during the episode with the kitten. He must see how much further he could chip away at the ice.

  'To satisfy your curiosity, Miss Markby, I was in the army, and while I enjoyed many flirtations on my few short furloughs, none of the fair ladies attracted me sufficiently for me to offer them my hand.'

  She did not appear discomposed, glancing at him and, he was sure, suppressing a smile.

  'You must be an idealist, or very nice in your requirements.'

  'Indeed I am!' he said, and was rewarded when she looked away.

  'I believe you sold out some years since? Has no one caught your fancy during all that time?'

  'I left the army three years ago, when my father died. Since then I have been much preoccupied with my estates, which my father had neglected. They needed a great deal of work to bring back to prosperity, especially in these years since the war ended.'

  'And you must have been preoccupied with your ward.'

  'Indeed, for my sins I inherited her too. Miss Markby, just ahead there is a small copse which is sheltered from the wind. Shall we pause there, to discuss the matter which has brought us here?'

  She turned the mare towards the small group of trees, and when they reached the shelter he leapt from his horse and went to lift her down. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and thanked him gravely, but as soon as her feet touched the ground she took the mare's reins and looked round for somewhere to tether her. Finding a tree with low-growing branches, she looped the reins over one of them, and gathering up her skirts went across to where a fallen tree would provide a seat.

  It had been a tall tree, and the trunk was long and straight. She sat demurely at one end, took off her gloves and her rather dashing masculine hat, and ran her fingers through her hair. He could see the scratches the kitten had inflicted, and had a sudden desire to kiss them better, but it would not do. With a rueful smile Lord Clifford left a substantial space between them. By now he was seriously determined to start a flirtation with this icy maiden, but he would need to proceed slowly.

  'Your brother,' he said abruptly. 'Has he made advances to other girls before he met Annamarie?'

  'Ad – advances, my lord?'

  She seemed discomposed. So there could be something discreditable in Henry's past, young though he was.

  'Advances, proposals of marriage, liaisons,' he prompted.

  'He has not previously expressed a wish to marry,' she said carefully.

  'He has, nevertheless, had what I might call amatory adventures?'

  She blushed, but looked steadily at him.

  'What young man has not, my lord? I've no doubt you were yourself involved in such at Henry's age, or younger.'

  Good for her, he mentally applauded. She was no mealy-mouthed miss. He would enjoy getting to know her better.

  'That I grant, but such adventures normally involve girls of a different class to Annamarie. I have no wish to probe his secrets, even if you know the details, which most sisters do not, but can you assure me he has not previously made advances to gently-born girls?'

  'Of that I can assure you. Annamarie is the first he has shown any interest in, which is why I am so against a marriage, or even a betrothal, at least for some time to come. They both need to have time to know their minds, meet other young people.'

  'What age do you consider the best for marriage?'

  She glanced at him, the first time she had looked at him since they had sat down, though he had been sitting sideways and regarding her intently all the while.

  'Not twenty for a man, a boy rather. And I feel that girls cannot be sure of what they want at the age of sixteen.'

  'So if we agreed that, should they be of the same mind in, say, two years, we would sanction a marriage?'

  'I have no such power to dictate to Henry, only the power my contr
ol over his money gives me, and that for just a few more months.'

  'But I have the power to refuse my consent to any betrothal Annamarie might wish for.'

  'But would you? You seem to be in favour of the match.'

  'Consider my position. I am bound, as her guardian, to do the best I can for her. Your brother is titled, wealthy, an unexceptional match. However many men she might meet if she has a Season, she could do much worse, fix her affections on a most unsuitable prospect.'

  'If she did, it would prove her attachment to Henry to be light, inconstant. Would it not be better to discover that?'

  'Or to permit them to wed, to avoid such inconstancy. I will not hide from you that she is a difficult child, but I am convinced marriage would steady her.'

  'Then I fear you do not know your ward very well, sir! Marriage would not steady her, for I believe she is a flighty tease, from the little I have seen and heard. Nor would it make her more constant. Only if she really loved and respected a husband would that happen. They cannot have known one another for more than a few weeks! It is too soon to be so certain their mutual attraction will last! And though he is my brother, I cannot imagine even a young girl like Annamarie would feel deep respect for him.'

  'Then what can we do? I can't hide from you that she is a great problem for me, one I feel I have to face because it was my father's. Could we provide alternative attractions to test them?'

  She shook her head.

  'That would be dishonourable, for the people involved, even if we knew any. You have only to refuse your consent, and we wait. Either their infatuation will wane, or prove stronger than either of us now thinks.'

  He stood up and walked a short distance away. Then he swung round to face her.

  'I told you how volatile Annamarie is, fixing her affections on unsuitable men. My task, as I see it, as her guardian, is to settle her suitably as soon as possible. Your brother provides a very good opportunity, perhaps the best I will ever have.'

  'That is unprincipled! You don't consider the happiness, the chance of lasting happiness, for either of them! You would ruin both my brother and your unfortunate ward. I can accept you care nothing for Henry, for you don't know him, but can you not see it would ruin the girl too? You are obliged to care what becomes of her. I suspect she would be desperately unhappy, and then might commit any imprudence, and we would be responsible for permitting such a marriage.'

  She stood up, firmly put on her hat, strode swiftly to where the mare was cropping the short grass, and seized the reins. Before he could go to assist her she had found another tree trunk and used it as a mounting block. Without pausing to straighten out the skirts of her habit she set off, this time at a fast gallop, back towards the town.

  Lord Clifford watched her go. Her arguments were good, but he did not totally agree with them. He knew Annamarie. And he wanted to get to know Elizabeth Markby better. She was by no means as cold as she strove to appear. He would, by some means, change her opinion of him. She would be well worth the effort.

  *

  Felicity arrived on the following day, just after Elizabeth had shown Lady Palgrave up to her mother's boudoir. Annamarie's companion had become a regular visitor, and Elizabeth expected, every time, that Lady Markby would hear about Henry's wish to marry the girl. So far nothing seemed to have been said, and Elizabeth wondered whether Lord Clifford had forbidden her to speak of it. If he had, she could not discern his motive. He seemed to want the match, despite his tentative suggestions about making the pair wait, and surely he would wish to obtain Lady Markby's support as soon as possible.

  She abandoned her speculations when Felicity was shown into the drawing room. She was wearing a most fetching green bonnet, trimmed with what Elizabeth thought were hens' feathers dyed red, orange and yellow. Felicity had the most amazing knack of taking something ordinary or unexpected and producing an original and utterly charming hat. Her friend was looking triumphant, and could scarcely wait until the butler was out of the room before bursting into speech.

  'I've discovered who she is,' she told Elizabeth. 'The Kirklands lived a few miles away from Lord Clifford's estate. Apparently Mr Kirkland was at Oxford with the older Lord Clifford, and they were friends, though Mr Kirkland had no more than a small house and a few hundred a year, while Lord Clifford was very rich. Annamarie is the daughter of his second wife, who died giving birth to her.'

  'How did you discover it?'

  'George's aunt told me. She knows everyone in Sussex and Hampshire. She said there was some mystery about the second Mrs Kirkland, and suspects she was the first one's maid. So tell me, what has happened? Does Lord Clifford approve the match?'

  'He appears to, but Felicity, I cannot understand the man!'

  'Why not?'

  Elizabeth told her about the ride the previous day, and all about the conversation they had had.

  'At one time he appeared to be suggesting he makes them wait for two years, then he reminded me of how the girl seemed to transfer her affections so readily, and said she might fix them on someone less suitable than Henry, so the sooner he was tied in marriage the better!'

  'How is Henry behaving?'

  'He is out most of the time, I barely see him.'

  'Does your mother suspect?'

  'That is another puzzle, for Lady Palgrave has become a regular visitor and I would not have thought she could bear to suppress such a choice item of gossip, unless Lord Clifford has given her strict instructions to do so. But if he has, why?'

  'You must ask him.'

  'We did not part on very amicable terms! He is probably disgusted with me.'

  They talked it over for some time longer, then Felicity said she must leave.

  'But I must pay my respects to Lady Markby first. She would never forgive me if I did not.'

  'I think Lady Palgrave is still with her.'

  'All the better. I can see what she is like.'

  *

  Twice in the next few days Elizabeth caught sight of Lord Clifford when she was doing errands for her mother, but at a distance, and he did not appear to see her. Henry came home only to sleep, and Elizabeth had no idea whether he saw Annamarie regularly. She grew more and more frustrated.

  Then, towards the end of July, Lord Clifford called and requested an interview with Lady Markby.

  He left an hour later without speaking to Elizabeth, who saw him depart from the drawing room window, and she had no time to speculate before Joan came to ask her to step up to her mother's boudoir.

  'My dear, what do you think? He is a most agreeable man. I cannot understand people who call him cold and hard.'

  What had the man done to win over her mother? She knew he could be charming, so had he exercised this charm on Lady Markby? If so it appeared to have succeeded. Was this part of a plan to obtain her approval of a match with his ward? Could he be so devious?

  'What did he have to say, Mama?'

  'Why, he needs to go to his principal estate, Crossways, for a few weeks, to oversee some improvements he is having done there, on the house, and he has suggested that we accompany him. He wants to provide some young company for Annamarie, and he said she had taken a fancy to you. And he said, as Lady Palgrave and I have become such friends, he was sure I would enjoy a change of scene. The air here in Brighton can be rather stifling, he said, at the end of summer, but there are pleasant, fresh breezes where his house stands, higher up on the Hampshire Downs. And I will not need to exert myself, he will have a room prepared for me where I can be quiet whenever I feel tired. Such a thoughtful man. As for Henry, he has bought some young horses he means to break himself, and he felt Henry might be willing to assist him. He is a most generous man.'

  A most unscrupulous one, Elizabeth thought. What did he intend? Was it a way of seeing how Annamarie and Henry dealt together? Did he wish them to become better acquainted? Or, recalling his somewhat ambivalent comments that day on the Downs, did he hope that closer association, seeing one another every day, would dampen the
ir ardour? If, as Elizabeth suspected, his ward was difficult to manage, it might make Henry think again, which was something she wished for. Did Lord Clifford? Why could he not be plain with her about his real wishes?

  She had no desire to go to Hampshire, but could think of no acceptable excuse. And if it brought about a change in Henry's intentions it would be well worth any sacrifices on her part. Her mother was eager for the change, and the opportunity to visit a house she said she had heard spoken of in her youth as one of the finest examples of Tudor architecture in the district.

  'Besides, I really don't believe the bathing is doing me any good at all. By the time we return it will be far too cold to continue, whatever the doctors say about the treatment being more effective in the colder weather, so I may as well finish the treatment now.'

  Elizabeth nodded. She had been surprised her mother had continued the sea water treatment for so long. She was a lady who preferred comfort, and would believe whichever doctor offered her that. The sea water bathing was far from comfortable.

  'When do we go?' Elizabeth asked, giving in to the inevitable.

  'In a week. Lord Clifford is going tomorrow, taking Lady Palgrave and Annamarie with him, of course, and we follow later. I hope that will be time enough for us to get ready. Oh, dear, it is exciting, but there is such a lot for me to do.'

  As Elizabeth left the room, her emotions in a whirl, she thought wryly of her mother's exertions, which would consist mainly of lying on her day bed while Joan packed and repacked all the clothes she thought she might conceivably need, changing her mind daily. There would be shopping expeditions too, of course, to purchase new shawls and bonnets, and any other items which caught Lady Markby's fancy, whether or not they were suitable for a stay in the country.

  Henry, who had heard of the plan from Annamarie, was certain it was because Lord Clifford meant to give his permission for the betrothal. He was almost as excited as his mother, but bemoaned the fact there was not time to dash to London and have new coats and boots made. He reluctantly agreed that he could obtain the necessary extra few dozen cravats in Brighton, and was even persuaded to purchase two new waistcoats. When he proudly showed them to Elizabeth she blinked at the colours, one a bright green and yellow striped affair which made her feel nauseous, the other a riot of blue, red and green embroidery, depicting a most unlikely flower garden. The Prince Regent's excesses in his decorative schemes for his Marine Pavilion seemed to have influenced masculine attire too.