Lord Clifford's Dilemma

by Oliver, Marina

  Lady Markby spared a few minutes to question Elizabeth on her own preparations.

  'Have you bought some new slippers, dear?'

  'I have no need of new slippers, Mama.'

  'What does need have to do with it? You surely want to look your best, do you not? I have no doubt Lord Clifford will invite all the local dignitaries to meet us. It will make such a change from the quiet life we lead here in Brighton.'

  A quiet, invalidish life she chose to lead, not because it was essential to her health, Elizabeth thought with some amusement, but not so quiet as it was back at home in Kent. Really, if she could not laugh at her mother's starts, she would be driven to distraction.

  She did permit herself to purchase a Norwich shawl, though, telling herself she was in need of a new one, and the nights might be cold. Most country houses, she had discovered, were difficult to heat adequately, even in summer, and she would have need of a shawl. She chose one in her favourite blue, silk with an overfill of the soft darker blue wool from Kashmir. And then, seeing a display of cloaks, decided she needed a warmer one for the coming winter in any case, and might as well purchase it now and take it to Crossways. The one that caught her eye was a delicate shade of grey, and there was a bonnet of grey trimmed with blue ribbons which went perfectly with it. Whenever she had stayed in the country before, her hosts had always expected their guests to take long walks around the estate, while they pointed out the improvements they and their forebears had made, and the ones they contemplated making. On these occasions, if it did not come on to rain, against the predictions of their hosts, it would be windy, she had found. Even in summer a warm cloak would be indispensable.

  At last, Lady Markby had made her final selection and the trunks were packed and corded. She and Elizabeth, with Joan and Elizabeth's maid Meg, would travel in the big coach, piled high with luggage. Henry elected to ride, and his valet and groom came in Henry's curricle.

  As the horses strained to pull the coach up the hill out of the town, Elizabeth was at leisure to wonder just what Lord Clifford intended.

  *

  Chapter 4

  The huge travelling coach lumbered up the drive towards Crossways, following a curving avenue of lime trees which led by a gentle slope from the valley almost to the summit of a hill, and the house gradually came into view. Elizabeth gasped in appreciation. It was one of the loveliest houses she had ever seen. Long and low, it was set against a backdrop of trees on the hill behind. To either side of a large central doorway were dozens of windows, gleaming in the sunlight. At regular intervals square bays protruded, with large windows and many panes of glass that gleamed in the sunlight. In front was a balustraded terrace which ran the whole length of the house. Below it was a gravelled turning area, and from this another driveway led past the far end of the house, she surmised to stables.

  Over to the right, much lower down the hill, was a lake with a small island, on which the white gleam of pillars indicated a summer house. Briefly she wondered whether it was suitable for swimming, then decided, with a shiver, that it was inappropriate when she was just a guest here.

  As the coach drew up before the flight of wide, shallow steps leading to the terrace the door, a huge oaken studded affair, opened and Lord Clifford, flanked by a stout butler and two tall, stiff-backed and much more slender footmen, emerged. He was followed by what seemed to be a whole multi-coloured pack of dogs, but which turned out to be just three, a spaniel, a terrier, and one of decidedly mixed ancestry.

  'Who let those animals out? Take them in,' Lord Clifford ordered, and the footmen lost some of their dignity and stiffness as they scrambled to capture the unruly trio.

  Lord Clifford ran down the steps and offered Lady Markby his arm as she was helped out of the coach. She leaned heavily against him as he slowly led her up the steps.

  'I trust you had a comfortable journey,' he said, and glanced across at Elizabeth who had followed her mother out of the coach and was supervising the unloading of the trunks and portmanteaus from the roof. 'Come, my people will see to that. You must be in need of some refreshment.'

  'Has my brother arrived yet, my lord? He was riding.'

  'Not yet. But his valet and groom are here.'

  Elizabeth frowned. Henry, on horseback, should have been able to cover the miles faster than either carriage. He had been in a ferment to be reunited with Annamarie. She hoped there had been no accident to delay him.

  Then she forgot Henry as they were ushered into the hall. It was huge, panelled in dark oak, on the style of the great halls of medieval houses, when it was the principal room in which most activities took place. It rose all the way to the roof, and at the far end was a gallery stretching right across. For the Tudor minstrels, she assumed. Offset to one side a wide oak staircase rose in three shallow flights round a square. The walls of the staircase were covered in portraits of what Elizabeth assumed were Lord Clifford's ancestors. She longed to study them, but was distracted by the entrance, from a door on the other side of the hall, of a flustered Lady Palgrave who was uttering confused apologies for not having been in the hall to greet them.

  'But do come through to the parlour, where I have some refreshments for you. Unless, Lady Markby, you prefer to go straight to your room and rest? I can have whatever you would like brought up to you.'

  'I am afraid I am somewhat weary,' Lady Markby said, her voice scarcely above a whisper. 'I would be most grateful for the opportunity to rest for a short while.'

  Lord Clifford relinquished his burden to Lady Palgrave, who, with a good deal of fluttering encouragement, assisted a stumbling Lady Markby up the stairs.

  'Shall I come to help you, Mama?'

  'No, child, Lady Palgrave can do all I require. You fuss too much, it makes me feel even more exhausted.'

  'Then come into the green parlour,' Lord Clifford said, taking Elizabeth's arm. 'Do you object to the dogs? They'll have been put in here for speed, no doubt.'

  'I like dogs,' Elizabeth said, 'but I'm afraid Mama is not fond of them. She would never permit us to have any when we were children.'

  He opened the door and ushered her into the room. The dogs were curled up in a heap in front of the fireplace, but they sprang to their feet and rushed to greet him, and sniff at Elizabeth. She bent down to pat them, and having done their duty they retreated to the hearth.

  'I'll see to it they are kept out of your mother's way. Now, I am sure you won't refuse a glass of ratafia, or even some Madeira. Unless you prefer some tea?'

  There was a hint of laughter in his voice, but when she glanced at him his face lacked all expression.

  'Thank you, my lord, some Madeira sounds perfect.'

  This room was comfortably small, panelled again in oak, but with a series of delightful watercolours of rural scenes decorating the walls, and pale green velvet curtains and upholstery that lightened the atmosphere. A welcoming log fire also brightened the room and made it seem friendly and welcoming.

  'Take off your cloak and come up to the fire. Has it been a difficult journey?'

  Elizabeth thought of the continuous complaints, the fretful demands for items which had been packed in a trunk and could not be retrieved, and the many exclamations that she ought never to have accepted the invitation, and had she known how long and tedious the journey would have been, certainly would not have done so. Elizabeth's sense of humour had been, at times, in danger of deserting her completely. She had frequently wished she was riding with Henry.

  'Mama does not enjoy travel,' she said now. 'She will be perfectly reconciled in a few hours, especially if Lady Palgrave is there to help her. But where is Annamarie? I thought she would be here to greet us. Especially if she is expecting Henry's arrival.'

  Lord Clifford did not reply, but his mouth hardened. He went across to a table and poured her a glass of wine.

  'Drink this,' he ordered, rather than said, as he handed it to her. 'And sit down, relax.'

  She sank into a deep, comfortable chair beside the fi
re, thankful it was not one of the modern spindly ones, sipped gratefully at the smooth, rich wine and took a deep breath.

  'Thank you. This may not be considered ladylike, but it is just what I need.'

  He sat in a facing chair, drank deeply of his own wine, and then placed the glass on a table beside him. He was idly fondling the spaniel's ears as he talked.

  'Annamarie is confined to her room.'

  'Is she ill? I hope it is nothing serious.'

  'She is not ill, physically, but I worry about her moral senses, I confess. Two days ago she was discovered in a somewhat compromising situation with one of the younger gardeners. Is this compulsion to enslave young men a matter of a girl collecting trophies, like other girls might collect butterflies or books? The sooner she is wed to Henry the better for all of us.'

  *

  Elizabeth stared at him in horror.

  'And you wish to foist her on my brother, a mere boy? A girl you suspect of some depravity, of uncontrollable urges and behaviour?'

  'Come, it is not that bad. I did not mean to imply that. She is a child still, but very conscious of her ability to charm susceptible young men. She is doing no more than experimenting on whichever young men come her way. When she is wed she will have no more cause to do so.'

  'Of course she will! A girl like that is never going to be satisfied with the adoration of one man! And my poor brother would have no notion of how to control her. All you want to do, my lord, is be rid of the responsibility. It's – it's despicable!'

  'She is well aware of her fault, and has promised she will behave when Henry is here. She claimed she was missing him, and that was why she behaved so.'

  'What utter nonsense! Forgive me for criticizing your parent, my lord, but he, and since he died, you yourself, have done ill towards the girl if she has not been taught proper behaviour. You told me of all the unsuitable men she set her sights on before she met my brother. Why were steps not taken then to show her how wrong she was? Can you honestly believe she will ever change? What sort of a dance do you think she would lead Henry if he were ever unfortunate enough to marry her?'

  He grinned at her.

  'You look beautiful when you're angry.'

  Elizabeth was tempted to throw the rest of her Madeira over his supercilious face, but instead she drank what remained in one gulp. He leaned across the small gap between them, and before she realized what he was about, he had refilled the glass.

  'She needs the example of an older female,' Lord Clifford went on. 'I gave up employing governesses, for she learned nothing. I hoped if she felt she had become old enough to have a companion instead, it would calm her. Unfortunately I fear Lady Palgrave is not the right companion. She is too old, and Annamarie does not heed her.'

  'It does not sound as though she pays heed to anyone. You should lock the little wretch up in a nunnery!'

  'If only that were possible. But she was left in my charge, I must do the best I can for her, for my father's sake as well as hers, and I deem that to be marriage to your brother. Who, I think, seems to have arrived. I can hear some commotion in the hall.'

  He stood up and took a step towards the door, followed by all three dogs jostling for position, but before he could reach it Henry was ushered into the room.

  'Sir Henry, welcome to Crossways.'

  Henry barely noticed. Her brother was in a furious temper, and his clothes were covered in mud.

  'Henry, have you had an accident?' Elizabeth exclaimed, all other concerns swept from her mind.

  'It was not my fault! Some fools came galloping out of a side path and frightened my horse. I was not aware of them until the last moment, the horse panicked, and I was thrown. It took me an hour to catch the brute, and those damned idiots did nothing but laugh and ride away! They didn't even offer to help! Just wait until I see them again! I'll teach them to treat a gentleman in such a scurvy fashion!'

  'Who were they?' Lord Clifford demanded, and Elizabeth for the first time heard a steely note in his voice. 'If they are locals and you can describe and identify them I will see they are punished.'

  He had poured another glass of Madeira and handed it to Henry, who tossed it off in one swallow and held out the glass for more.

  'I only saw two of them, not the third. Young men, shouting and hallooing, but one was riding a raw-boned bay with a white blaze and three white socks. It almost trod on me while I was on the ground! I saw those hooves at far too close a range for comfort.'

  'We will see what we can do later. Meanwhile, your valet is here, and I will show you to your room. Miss Markby, pray excuse me. I will send a maid to show you where you are to sleep. We dine in an hour.'

  *

  Lady Markby, Elizabeth discovered, had been given a suite of rooms at the far end of the house. All the principal rooms were along the front, and behind them were long galleries in either wing, a short passage behind the minstrels' gallery in the Great Hall connecting them. In the east wing it was a picture gallery, Betty, the rosy-cheeked and chatty maid who escorted her to her room explained, and the twin in the west wing housed the late Lord Clifford's collection of Greek and Roman treasures he had collected when he did the Grand Tour in his youth, plus all the books he had acquired. It was called the Classical Gallery.

  Lady Markby was reclining on a day bed in a spacious sitting room at the corner of the house, with windows on two sides, overlooking the hillside behind and to the side of the house, and the lake in front. A bright fire made the room stiflingly hot, but that was how Lady Markby preferred it. Lady Palgrave was hovering, asking anxiously whether she had everything she needed, or would she like another cushion, or to have her book fetched if she wished to be quiet. Elizabeth thought that she herself would soon be driven to distraction with such an unrestful female about her, but her mother revelled in the attention.

  Adjoining was a comfortable bedroom, though in both rooms the furniture and curtains were old and shabby. She understood what Lord Clifford had meant by his father's neglect. From what she had seen the entire house needed some loving care. It was a beautiful house, the rooms of gracious proportions, and there were some excellent pieces of furniture which looked cared for, but the upholstery and curtains were worn and should have been replaced years ago. She wondered why Lord Clifford had not seen to this, and then recalled he had been occupied more with the estate, the farms and woods. Grudgingly she admitted his priorities had been right.

  Beyond the bedroom was a large dressing room littered with clothes, and Joan said she had not yet had time to put them away, she had been kept too busy unpacking the various trunks to find Lady Markby's warmest shawl, her book, her smelling salts, comfortable slippers, and her favourite lounging robe. Next to it was a small room where Joan was to sleep.

  'Oh dear, she'll be able to summon you at any time,' Elizabeth said, and she and the maid exchanged a look of resignation.

  'She says she will not come down for dinner tonight, she is too fatigued. Lady Palgrave will bear her company and she will wish to retire soon after she has eaten. A bowl of chicken broth and perhaps a coddled egg is all she requires.'

  Elizabeth grinned. She knew that when the cooks, considering this a very inadequate repast, sent up portions of some of the more dainty dishes they had prepared for dinner, her mother would decide to sample them all.

  She went along to her own suite next door, similar to the one her mother had been given, and Betty explained that Lady Palgrave and Miss Annamarie had similar ones closer to the staircase.

  'His lordship's rooms are at the far end of the west wing, and gentlemen guests such as your brother are usually accommodated in that wing too. Dinner will be in an hour. Can I do anything to help?'

  'No, thank you, my own maid is here.'

  Betty departed, and Elizabeth swiftly changed into a dove grey evening gown. Meg, without interruptions, had unpacked the one trunk Elizabeth had brought, laid out her evening clothes, and well before it was time to go down to the reception rooms, she was ready.
She wore her pearls, which had been inherited from an aunt, and decided to wear her old shawl, not the new one. For some obscure reason she did not wish to appear too eager to make a good impression by dressing in all her finery.

  A footman was waiting in the Great Hall to show her the way to another small parlour. Here the panelling was painted white, and the pictures were mostly delicate watercolours of flowers. They were, Lord Clifford explained, his mother's work. He was there alone, looking remarkably handsome in impeccable evening dress, and came forward to greet her and lead her to sit beside a roaring log fire, while he stood to one side resting an elegantly shod foot on a fender.

  She considered him carefully. He was handsome, in a conventional manner. His figure was excellent, without any need for padding, and his features regular. It was no wonder girls pursued him. His air of aloofness probably intrigued and challenged them too.

  'I don't use the formal drawing room unless we have a large party,' he said. 'These small parlours are far more pleasant. Is your mother comfortable in her rooms?'

  'Very, my lord. She wishes to be excused tonight, she is weary, and Lady Palgrave is keeping her company.'

  'She is to do exactly as she wishes. Ah, come in, child,' he added, and Elizabeth looked round to see Annamarie, dressed in a childish, pale lemon round gown, enter the room. She smiled tentatively at Lord Clifford, but gave Elizabeth barely a nod of recognition.

  'Betty said I was to dine downstairs,' she whispered. 'Thank you, Crispin dear.'

  'I assumed you would wish to be with your betrothed.'

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to object that there was no formal betrothal, but at that moment a portly, elderly clergyman entered the room. He was, she soon learned, a Doctor Fleetwood, Lord Clifford's chaplain, but he also held the living of the church attached to the estate.