Lord Clifford's Dilemma

by Oliver, Marina

  'Though my curate takes most of the services there,' he boomed. Did he think they were in a large church?

  He had a sonorous, mellifluous voice, which Elizabeth felt was well-adapted to the pulpit, not a small parlour, but she soon came to wish he would confine his sermons to there too. He had decided opinions on everything, it seemed, from the merits and provenance of a painting above the fireplace, through comments on the latest female fashions, to what he considered needed doing on the Home Farm.

  Henry, somewhat flustered, entered the room just as the butler announced that dinner was served. Lord Clifford offered Elizabeth his arm, Dr Fleetwood did the same to Annamarie, preventing her from joining Henry, and they moved to a small, intimate dining room.

  Elizabeth was seated on Lord Clifford's right, his ward on his left. Henry had been placed beside his sister, and the cleric opposite him. While Dr Fleetwood was present the others could not mention the matter which most concerned them. It was the first time Elizabeth had been able to study Annamarie closely, and she took advantage of it to watch the girl's every expression.

  The child was demurely dressed, and her only jewellery was a simple gold locket suspended on a slender gold chain. Her mouth had a downward turn, and after a timid response to Lord Clifford's question as to whether she had finished the book she had been reading, she took no further part in the conversation, though her gaze was fixed on Lord Clifford more than on Henry. Was she by any chance afraid of him?

  The conversation was dominated by Dr Fleetwood. Henry made a few comments defending the education provided at Oxford, but subsided sulkily when told that his knowledge, though that of a recent student there, was inadequate to judge, as it was one-sided. As for educating girls, apart from teaching those from good families the basics of reading and writing, as well as how to manage a household, it was a waste of time and they would only soften their brains by reading unsuitable novels.

  Henry cast a look of triumph at Elizabeth, and it gave her pause just as she had been about to draw swords with Dr Fleetwood. She caught a puzzled look on Lord Clifford's face, but Dr Fleetwood was speaking again, to her this time.

  Elizabeth, questioned about her stay in Brighton, found her contributions about the benefits of fashionable doctors and spas were treated with condescension, while he implied that the opinions of mere females on such matters were illogical. Only from his host did the cleric permit contrary opinions, though even these he treated with the attitude that one day Lord Clifford would know better.

  Elizabeth fumed, but good manners kept her silent. Lord Clifford had on several occasions had the better of the discussion, she felt, but her host retained an impassive expression when his opinions were questioned or rebutted. However, she vowed to herself, if this man were a resident chaplain and present at all their meals, she would soon find a pressing reason to be elsewhere, succouring an old friend perhaps, whose family were all suffering various calamities. She was dreamily occupied in inventing horrid fates for a mythical family, when she came back to the present with a jerk.

  While she dreamed she had been looking at Annamarie without consciously seeing her for the past few minutes, and allowing the conversation, now entirely confined to exchanges between the cleric and his host, to float unheeded over her head. What brought her out of this trance was a glance she saw the girl cast towards her guardian.

  The child is infatuated with him, not afraid, as she had first thought. This was an astonishing revelation. It was a look of sheer adoration, such as she had seen Felicity cast George on the day when they were married. Her friend's marriage had been a love match, and Felicity had confided in her that she would remain unwed if she did not marry George, for she could not contemplate life without being at his side, and if by some dire chance were threatened with a different bridegroom she would run away to become a governess.

  Was Annamarie in love with Lord Clifford, and did he have any inkling of it? Was he aware of her feelings? Was it really love, or just a girl's infatuation with an older man? Was he aware of it? Did this explain his determination to marry her quickly to someone else? He must be twice her age, for she judged him to be in his early thirties, and while many men would be gratified at being so adored by a pretty young girl, she thought he had more sense than to wish to spend his life with a wife so much younger and less intelligent than he was.

  Even if he did return her feelings, he would be in an invidious position as her guardian. Many people, should he marry her, would condemn him for taking advantage of her. Without knowing the true facts they would probably assume he had married her to gain control of her fortune. Many would not believe she had no fortune, and Elizabeth suddenly recalled she knew this only because Lord Clifford had told her so. Was it true? Felicity had discovered that her father had not been wealthy, but girls could be left fortunes, as she had been herself, by people outside the immediate family, a godparent or distant relative, for instance.

  Somehow Elizabeth could not quite bring herself to believe in such a motive. He had no need of a greater fortune, he was wealthy himself. Or so she understood. Crossways needed a good deal of attention, the house had been neglected for years by his father, he had said, but was the real reason lack of funds to put this right? It was a huge house, and according to Felicity he had other properties, which might be in similar states of disrepair.

  Was this infatuation, Elizabeth suddenly wondered, the real reason for Annamarie's provocative behaviour towards all these unsuitable men? Did she hope to arouse him to jealousy? It was the kind of situation sometimes encountered in the novels published by the Minerva Press, and Annamarie was far more likely to read these than more improving tomes. She enjoyed them herself, in moderation, and recognized that she turned to them for light relief when her mother's behaviour became more than usually irritating. But she knew them for fantasy. Annamarie was the sort of girl to believe them implicitly and take them as guides to behaviour.

  She suddenly realized Lord Clifford was looking at her with a puzzled, slightly amused expression on his face.

  'Miss Markby, would you and Annamarie like to retire? We will join you shortly.'

  There had been no hostess to give the ladies a signal, and Elizabeth wondered if she had been expected to take the lead. With heightened colour she nodded to him, stood up, and led the way from the room with her head carried high. The butler, whose name she had learned was Dawson, had opened the door for them, and asked her to follow him.

  'The reverend gentleman lives at the parsonage in the village, Miss, not in the house,' he murmured to her as she entered the parlour where they had met before dinner.

  She looked at him swiftly, and encountered a sympathetic smile. She struggled not to laugh. Did he take it upon himself to reassure all the guests of this?

  'He dines here once a month, and it's your misfortune today happened to be the time,' Annamarie told her as Dawson closed the door behind them and Elizabeth moved towards the fire.

  'Is he always like that?' Elizabeth asked her.

  Somehow, she must get to know this girl better and discover her true feelings. If she were using Henry as part of a devious plan to make Lord Clifford jealous Elizabeth would feel obliged to do something about it. Exactly what she had no idea. She would in any event oppose the notion of Henry becoming rivetted to the child at his age, but the more she saw of Annamarie the more she understood the girl was far deeper and perhaps more cunning than she appeared.

  Annamarie sighed deeply and knelt before the fire, holding out her hands to warm them.

  'Crispin does his best to draw his fire, but he is always demanding to know what I am studying, and prosing on about what a girl should be learning in order to make a dutiful and accomplished wife. The Palgrave is no help at all, she just sits there looking approving and nodding agreement. I'm not surprised his wife left him.'

  'Did she?' Elizabeth asked, startled. 'When?'

  She ought not to encourage the girl to gossip, but she felt so antagonistic towards the m
an she could not contain her curiosity.

  'It was before I came to live here, but I've heard some of the villagers talk about it, and Mr Matthews, that's the curate, didn't deny it when I asked him. She just vanished one night, and everyone decided she had run off with a man who had been staying at the Clifford Arms. No one knew why he'd been here, but he vanished on the same night. People afterwards said they had seen the two of them walking together in the woods. And Dr Fleetwood made no attempt to trace her and bring her back. My own opinion is that he murdered them both and buried them in the churchyard. There were two graves already dug that night, I was told, ready for two of the villagers who had died of smallpox, and it would have been easy to dig down a foot more and cover their bodies with soil.'

  'Surely not?'

  'If she had run away, don't you think he would have wanted to catch her, and make her suffer? His sermons are usually about sinners and the punishments they deserve. Though I must say, he thinks everything, including a small lie to get one out of a scrape, is deserving of hanging in this world and everlasting fire in the next.'

  Elizabeth did not reply. It was clear to her that Annamarie's imagination was a vivid one, no doubt fed by the lurid novels she read. She could, however, believe that Dr Fleetwood might be a ranting clergyman. Something else was nagging at her thoughts, though. Annamarie had been able to ask such questions of a curate. She wondered if he was young, and if he was another of the men Annamarie was intent on using, whatever her motive.

  *

  Chapter 5

  Lady Markby sent down apologies the following morning, saying she meant to remain resting in her rooms. Lady Palgrave proposed to keep her company, if she were not required to supervise Annamarie or entertain Miss Markby.

  'So shall we ride? It's a fine day,' Lord Clifford suggested as they ate breakfast. 'Henry, do you care to try out one of my new horses? I think your own may be in need of a rest.'

  That set Henry off again about the riders who had caused his accident the previous day, and he continued muttering about it and the revenge he wanted all through the meal.

  They agreed, the girls went to change into habits, and Betty, who had been chatting to Meg in Elizabeth's rooms, said she had come to show Miss Markby the way.

  Elizabeth found that two short wings had been built out from either end of the main house, partially enclosing a courtyard which contained a knot garden planted with many herbs.

  'The old Lord Clifford knew a good deal about herbs, he brought many back from his travels,' Betty explained as she led the way down some stairs inside the east wing and through the sweet-smelling courtyard. 'Cook doesn't know how to use the half of them, but his lordship, the present one, that is, insists they are left to grow.' She giggled. 'He says that when he is wed his wife may have such knowledge.'

  Elizabeth very much wanted to know if Lord Clifford was contemplating matrimony, and if so, with whom. She doubted very much it would be with Annamarie. If it were, the girl was unlikely to have such knowledge, Elizabeth thought, nor was she the kind of girl to try to discover it from books or friends. She wondered whether Lord Clifford had anyone in mind for his wife, and crossly told herself it was no concern of hers.

  The stables were some way beyond the house, and extensive. The boxes were arranged round a square yard, and an archway in the far wall led to another yard where the carriages were housed.

  Lord Clifford was talking to a groom, who held a grey stallion's reins in a firm grip, but as soon as he saw Elizabeth he walked across to greet her.

  'My grandfather was a famous horseman, and built these stables,' he told her. 'I use barely half of them. Come and meet the mare I have selected for you. I think you will like her.'

  Another groom was leading out a jet-black mare, slender and clearly with Arab bloodlines. She tossed her head skittishly, but stood quietly when Elizabeth spoke to her and stroked her neck.

  'She's the full sister of the one I have in Brighton,' Lord Clifford explained. 'She isn't a novice's ride, but from what I saw that day you will have no difficulty with her.'

  Henry appeared then, and was introduced to a tall, rangy bay. They stood holding their horses' reins, waiting for Annamarie. Yet another groom had led out a pretty dappled pony, a fat, placid animal who stood patiently, not appearing eager to be off as the other three horses did. So Annamarie was not an accomplished rider, Elizabeth decided, and wondered whether the pony had been exercised already that morning to take the edge off any excess energy she might have had.

  Betty still hovered at the entrance to the yard, and Lord Clifford bade her go and tell Miss Kirkland that if she did not appear within five minutes they would be off without her.

  Before Betty could reach the house, however, Annamarie came running into the yard. She ran towards Lord Clifford, laughing and apologizing for her tardiness, but as she reached him she dropped the ends of her habit, tripped on them, and fell against him. His horse reared, and since he had instinctively put out an arm to catch her, he was fully occupied until a groom sprang forward and took hold of the stallion, carefully leading the startled beast away from the group and attempting to sooth it. From the ugly glance the man cast at Annamarie Elizabeth suspected the child was not a favourite in the stables, and indeed, if she often behaved in such a fashion in the vicinity of high-bred horses, there was cause.

  Lord Clifford's mouth was a straight, grim line, and he rather brusquely set Annamarie on her feet, while she stared up at him, her eyes filling with tears.

  'Oh, Crispin, I'm so sorry, but I was late, and I did not wish to anger you. It was the skirts of my wretched habit. If only you would permit me to ride in breeches, such a thing could not happen.'

  'Not again, Annamarie, please. You know my views on that.'

  For the first time Elizabeth felt a faint twinge of sympathy for the girl. At home, when she knew she would be unobserved, she frequently donned breeches and rode astride.

  Lord Clifford sighed and crossed to lift Elizabeth into the saddle.

  'Let us go,' he said curtly and mounted his own horse, which was still fretting. With a few soothing pats and some softly-spoken words Elizabeth could not hear, he calmed the animal and led the way towards the archway and the park beyond.

  Annamarie looked round helplessly, and Henry stepped forward to lift her into the saddle. She smiled ravishingly at him, and before he could mount and ride beside her set her pony into a trot so that she came level with Lord Clifford just beyond the archway. Henry, frowning slightly, and Elizabeth, thoughtful, followed.

  'I'll show you round the estate this morning,' Lord Clifford called back over his shoulder, and he led them from the park and through fields from where the harvest was safely gathered, across pastures being grazed by fat sheep and sleek cattle. Then they were out on the open downland and had the opportunity for a swift gallop. Even Annamarie's pony allowed itself to be kicked into a canter, and while the others waited for her to catch up Elizabeth caught sight of the village in the distance, set in the valley below them. She could see a cluster of cottages and a few larger houses surrounding a church in the centre, and several lanes radiating from it with more cottages scattered along them. When they turned back towards Crossways they did not go near the village, instead Lord Clifford led the way at a walk in single file through deep woodland, where pigs snuffled amongst the acorns, and were prone to running across the path unexpectedly. The horses snorted in alarm whenever this happened too close to them, but the riders were able to control them, even Annamarie. Her pony seemed lethargic, hanging its head whenever they halted. What was the matter with it? Was it over-exercised, or simply old and lazy?

  Elizabeth was thoughtful later, as she washed and changed from her habit into a long-sleeved morning gown of peach-coloured muslin, trimmed with ribbons of a deeper shade. Had her surmise about Annamarie's adoration of his lordship the previous evening been correct? That stumble into Lord Clifford's arms had been, she was almost certain, cleverly contrived. During the entire ride
Annamarie had ridden as closely as possible beside Lord Clifford, when her pony had been able to keep up. She had effectively ignored Henry, frustrating his attempts to draw her away from the others so that they could speak privately. Which of the two men was she really interested in?

  Was she taking a good opportunity to be with Lord Clifford? She had no reason to make Henry jealous, he was already infatuated. She might, indeed, turn him against her if he became angry at her neglect of him. But if she wished to make her guardian jealous, then surely she would have made more attempt to show kindness to Henry? Or was she astute enough to realize this was unlikely to be a successful tactic with her guardian? Elizabeth gave up in disgust. Speculation was proving inconclusive. She needed to know the chit better in order to understand her.

  *

  Elizabeth noted how Lord Clifford frowned when Annamarie sent down a message that she was resting in her room and did not want anything to eat. He and the two young Markbys sat down in the small dining room for a nuncheon of ham and fruit, with cider to wash it down.

  Elizabeth took a tankard of cider, refusing his offer of wine, and saying she did not wish for tea either.

  'At Markby Court we produce our own cider, my lord. Kent has many orchards, and we have some good cider apples in ours. Pears for perry, too, though I am not so fond of that.'

  'What would you like to do this afternoon?' Lord Clifford asked Elizabeth. 'I have challenged Henry to a game of billiards. Have you a desire to inspect my father's antiquities? Or would you prefer a book? The Classical Gallery contains his own collection, but I also have a library which may have books more to your taste. I have most of the new novels and books of poetry sent here.'

  She would have preferred to watch them play, and even played herself. Her father had taught both of his children, but Henry had far more opportunity to play that she had. Her mother disapproved, so even at home she felt reluctant to ask any guests to join her in a game. Lord Clifford might well consider it unladylike if she asked.