Lord Clifford's Dilemma

by Oliver, Marina

  'I would like to inspect your library, sir. I have been dependent on Donaldson's since we were in Brighton.'

  'Good. Henry, later, when they are heading for their roosts, do you care to come and shoot some rooks? They seem to have multiplied faster than usual this year, and if I don't control them now they will be after the new lambs next spring.'

  'If you wish, sir,' Henry replied, listless. 'Excuse me, please, I would like to stroll outside for a while. I need some air. At what time shall I meet you in the billiard room?'

  *

  Henry had been rather silent all morning, and Lord Clifford was well aware he was puzzled by Annamarie's behaviour. He wondered if the young man's affections could be turned away from the girl by such behaviour, though he was not amused at her deliberate use of him to make the poor lad jealous. If that was her desire, though he could not fathom why she should wish it, perhaps he ought to invite some other young men to join them, but that was out of the question as he intended to remain at Crossways for just a few weeks. He would, though, invite some of his neighbours to come and dine. He considered the possibility of a small ball, but decided there was too little time to arrange it, though an impromptu dance when there were younger people visiting was feasible.

  As they rose from the table he excused himself, and went swiftly up the stairs. Receiving no reply to his peremptory knock on Annamarie's door he tried the handle, to find the door locked. Frowning, he went a short way along the gallery and discovered the child had forgotten to lock the door of her dressing room. It was typical of her thoughtlessness. He stalked in, and into the deserted bedroom. It was empty, as he had suspected.

  He ran down the stairs and gave orders for his curricle to be prepared, then walked into the library, hoping to find Elizabeth there. She was standing looking at the books in the shelves devoted to Hampshire.

  'Miss Markby, I must beg your pardon, but I have to go out. Will you forgive me?'

  'Shooting rooks, sir? But I know. Have you abandoned the idea of billiards?'

  'I'd forgotten. Dawson,' he said to the butler who had followed him into the room, 'pray excuse me to Sir Henry. Annamarie has gone out, and I must try to follow her.'

  Elizabeth came towards him.

  'Let me come with you. Perhaps I could be of use. I'll fetch a pelisse, I'll be but a couple of minutes.'

  His first instinct was to refuse, but perhaps she could be useful, depending on what they discovered. He nodded.

  'Five minutes, then. By the front door.'

  *

  Elizabeth clung onto the side of the curricle as he drove down the driveway at a gallop. The surface was far from smooth, and needed urgent attention. She was relieved when they reached the better road outside the gates, and relaxed. Here she was less likely to be tipped out of the vehicle. She had time to be thankful it was not a high-perch phaeton he was driving.

  He had dismissed the groom, explaining to Elizabeth that the less his servants knew of Annamarie's starts the better.

  'Though in the odd way they always appear to know everything I imagine they know as much as I do,' he added ruefully.

  He turned in the direction opposite to the one they had arrived by, and soon came to the outskirts of a sprawling village. To her relief he dropped the pace to a decorous trot, and then, as they reached the main part of the village, to a walk. Outside a baker's shop he drew to a halt, with a brief apology handed her the reins, and leaped down. A minute later he emerged, crossed the road to a butcher's shop, and then to a linen draper's next door. He spoke briefly to an old man sitting on a bench under some chestnut trees on the village green some yards ahead, nodded, and came back.

  'The churchyard,' he said briefly as he took back the reins and gave the horses the office.

  For a wild moment Elizabeth wondered whether Annamarie had decided to try and excavate the graves where she suspected the vanished Mrs Fleetwood's body to be found, then told herself not to be so witless. Even this foolish child could not imagine she would be able to dig down six or more feet, and then remove the coffin she thought rested on the woman's body.

  Lord Clifford drew to a halt beside the lych gate, hitched the reins to a post, and held his hand out to help Elizabeth alight.

  'Come,' he said, and led her towards the church. The door stood open, and inside it was dark, just a single lamp alight near the altar. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as she tried to penetrate the gloom, but Lord Clifford did not hesitate, striding down the centre aisle until he came to a stop beside the foremost pew.

  Following him, Elizabeth saw that all the pews had nameplates. The two at the front were reserved for Lord Clifford and the Rectory family. It was at this last Lord Clifford was looking. He had thrust open the small gate at the entrance, and stood leaning nonchalantly against the side of the pew.

  Elizabeth heard a scuffle inside, and then a muffled voice began to stammer out incomprehensible words. Above this incoherence Annamarie's voice rose, clear and shrill.

  'Why do you spy on me, Crispin? I'm doing nothing wrong! John is helping me with my studies.'

  Lord Clifford finally spoke, and Elizabeth thought she had never heard anyone use such a haughty tone.

  'I think the proper place for such tuition by a curate is in a schoolroom. Mr Matthews, if you wish to arrange with me a suitable time and place for continuing your religious instruction of my ward, pray apply to me in the morning. Now, Annamarie, I fear I have to drag you away and take you back home.'

  'I – it – that is, my lord, it was not premeditated! Of course not! I would not dream, presume, that is, anything clandestine. I was here, praying, as is my custom, when Miss Kirkland came and begged for my help in understanding a passage of scripture. I am sure she meant no wrong, she is but a child, and one searching for the truth.'

  Elizabeth could have sworn Lord Clifford emitted a snort, but whether it was of annoyance or amusement at the poor curate's discomfiture, she could not tell.

  Annamarie, with no sign of embarrassment, emerged from the pew, catching at the curate's hand as she did so.

  'Oh, John, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to get you into a scrape, but it will be all right, dear Crispin will not punish you, I will make sure of that, for it was all due to my thoughtlessness.'

  With a flickering smile up into Lord Clifford's face she began to walk towards the door, her hips swaying. When she caught sight of Elizabeth a calculating look came into her eyes, but she smiled sweetly, passed by and sailed out of the church.

  Leaving the abashed curate to his interrupted devotions, Lord Clifford took Elizabeth's arm and drew her after his ward.

  'A gardener's boy, a religious, and heaven knows who else she tries to enslave! In not more than a week or so since we returned home! Can you not see how urgent it is to have her safely wed?'

  Elizabeth was furious and even though he was her host did not trouble to conceal it.

  'Do you really believe marriage will cure that impossible girl's behaviour? Once she has the security of a husband to take the blame for any by-blows she may produce, she will lose all restraint!' she said bluntly. 'It is probably only fear of the consequences that prevents her from going further than flirtation now! But one day, she will meet a man she cannot control, and then what will you do with her, my lord? Not foist her and a bastard onto my brother!'

  By now they were outside, and Annamarie was calmly clambering into the curricle.

  'Hush, my dear,' he said. 'She will hear you.'

  'I am not your dear!'

  'Not mine? Or not dear?'

  Elizabeth tore herself away from his grasp and stalked down the path. She contemplated walking back to Crossways, and forcing her mother to leave that very minute, but common sense told her it would be idiotic. It was a long walk back, Henry would refuse to leave, and the very notion was likely to drive Lady Markby into violent spasms. She swallowed her anger and climbed into the curricle beside Annamarie.

  'It will be a tight fit,' Lord Clifford remarked affably as he un
did the reins and squeezed in beside them.

  Neither girl spoke, and it was in a constrained silence that they drove back to Crossways. As the curricle drew to a halt Annamarie scrambled across Elizabeth to jump down, and without apology ran up the steps to the door which Dawson had just opened. Elizabeth could hear her loud sobs as she hurtled past the butler, and on her other side the exasperated sigh of Lord Clifford.

  She permitted Dawson to help her down, and Lord Clifford drove off towards the stables. Elizabeth went straight to her room, and finding Meg there, told the maid she did not wish to be disturbed until it was time to dress for dinner. She had much to think about.

  *

  Aware that she had scarcely been polite outside the church, and ought to offer an apology, Elizabeth took extra care with her dress that evening. She donned a gown she had only worn once before, in silvery grey crepe, with short puffed sleeves and ruffles round the hem. Today, she decided, was the moment for her new Norwich shawl. With it carefully draped round her shoulders she descended to the white parlour.

  Lord Clifford was there, and when she attempted to apologize hook his head.

  'I don't blame you,' he said with a sigh. 'I sometimes fear the same myself, and I do all I can to prevent her from ruining herself. I need help, Miss Markby. She is growing wilder and I dread what she will do next. I have not before had much to do with girls her age, and I don't understand them.'

  They had to talk of something else then, as Lady Markby, who had announced her own determination to overcome her weakness and sit at her host's table, appeared in a dark brown bombazine gown, and began complimenting Lord Clifford on the excellent attention his servants were giving her.

  To Elizabeth's relief Dr Fleetwood was not at dinner today. Neither was Annamarie who had, Lady Palgrave whispered to her in the white parlour beforehand, been locked in her room for some undisclosed misdemeanour. Their presence made the conversation general, though Henry, who was scowling ferociously, took no part in it.

  'I am sending out invitations to some neighbours, for a dinner,' Lord Clifford announced. 'I was thinking of next Tuesday. Do you feel up to meeting them, Lady Markby?'

  'Of course, my lord. I will look forward to it. Will there be anyone I am likely to know?'

  Lord Clifford mentioned a few names.

  'They spend some time in London, so you may have met them.'

  'I'm afraid I spend very little time in town these days, my lord. Elizabeth and I go for a week or so each year to replenish our wardrobes, but if we need a change of air we go to Brighton or Bath, and if I can face the long journey, to Harrogate.'

  'That cannot be very exciting for Miss Markby,' he commented.

  Elizabeth almost laughed out loud, her good humour restored. When had her mother ever considered her comfort?

  'What does Elizabeth need with excitement? She's not a gal any longer, my lord, pining for balls and beaus. She has her village schools to occupy her attention.'

  How little her mother knew about her, Elizabeth thought. While she had no desire for beaus, having been hurt sufficiently in the past not to wish to attempt any further attachments, she enjoyed dancing when she had the opportunity, and would have enjoyed the company to be found in London, the more serious conversations, discussions of books and poetry, visits to the theatre and the opera. Little of this was to be had in most of the spas her mother visited, and still less at Markby Court, where Lady Markby entertained only occasionally, and then it was just a few of her neighbours and most sycophantic friends. For the past eight years she had been forced onto her own resources, finding what occupation and amusement she could in between attending to her mother's demands. Her schools, now they were established, did not take a great deal of her time.

  Just occasionally she escaped for a few weeks, mainly to visit Felicity, but since her friend had produced three children in quick succession, she hated leaving them, and now never visited London, so Elizabeth had to forgo visits there too. She envied Henry, with the freedom to go where he would. She had money enough to do as she wished, but not the opportunity, while he, with opportunity, was limited by the amount of money she allowed him. It was sufficient to fund necessary expenditure, but not enough, she hoped, for him to indulge in much gambling.

  She awoke from this reverie to hear Lord Clifford saying to Henry that he would take him rook-shooting on the following morning, to make up for the sudden cancellation of their plans that afternoon.

  Henry, with an effort, pulled himself together and agreed.

  'Will Miss Kirkland be permitted to attend your dinner party?' he asked.

  'If she promises to behave. Miss Markby, I wonder if I can prevail upon you to discuss menus for the dinner party with Cook? I know Lady Palgrave does not like doing it, and I would not presume to ask Lady Markby, who is here to rest, not undertake my duties.'

  'If you wish it, my lord,' Elizabeth replied, rather startled. 'Though I am not accustomed to planning for large parties. How many people do you expect to attend?'

  'Let me see, there are six of us. Another twenty, perhaps. Dawson,' he spoke to the butler who was supervising the pouring of wine, 'how many can we seat in the big dining room? I don't think I've had occasion to use it since my father died and we had all the relatives staying here.'

  'Thirty, my lord, if all the leaves are used.'

  'Then cater for thirty, if you will, Miss Markby. You will find Cook, Mrs Dawson, a very capable organizer.'

  Later, in the white parlour, while they waited for his lordship and Henry to finish their port, Lady Palgrave was speculating on which of the local families his lordship would invite to meet them.

  'He is bound to invite some with young families, for your benefit, and that of dear Sir Henry,' Lady Palgrave said. 'Let me see, there are the Harrises who have two young daughters, though I believe the elder has contracted an engagement this last Season. The Snaiths live close enough to come. I wonder if Felix is at home? Then, if he thinks it not too far for them to drive, there are the Templetons from Winchester. And mayhap the Flemings too. Both have young daughters who are out. And there is a boy, a little older, if he has not joined the army. I did hear from Lady Fleming he was considering it, though she was very much against, and so was his father, as there is little chance of preferment now that monster is out of the way and we are at peace.'

  'There are still wars elsewhere than in Europe,' Elizabeth murmured softly.

  'Oh, indeed, but you could hardly expect a gentleman to be sent to somewhere like India!'

  Elizabeth withdrew from the conversation. Much as they disagreed about his wish to marry Annamarie off to Henry, she found Lord Clifford's conversation more stimulating than that of the two elderly ladies, and hoped he would soon appear.

  *

  Chapter 6

  Elizabeth talked to Mrs Dawson in the green parlour, which seemed to be reserved mainly for household business. Cook, as she said she preferred to be called, was tiny, as thin as her husband was portly, and only reaching to Elizabeth's shoulder. Her hair, pale grey with streaks of white, was pulled back into a small bun, and her hands were small and knobbly. Was she strong enough for the effort that would be involved in preparing for a large dinner party?

  It soon became obvious to Elizabeth that it was she being interviewed, not Cook, and she smothered a smile. Cook had detailed menus prepared. She laid her list in front of Elizabeth and went through it, without need to refer to the paper herself.

  'We get all our meat and poultry from the estate, and are close enough to the coast to have fresh fish. There's river fish available too. His lordship will make sure I have game birds. We've vegetables aplenty in our own gardens, and fruit from the succession houses. The home farm produces excellent cheeses, and I have preserves of all sorts in the still room. I won't be able to do fancy concoctions like those London people get from Gunters,' she said with a sniff of derision for hostesses who bought from outside confectioners for their desserts, 'but I will provide tarts, tasty syllabu
bs, flummeries and jellies and the like. There's still some ice in the icehouse, so that's no problem. Did you have anything else to suggest, Miss?'

  Did she dare comment, or even ask questions? To make any suggestions for changes would offend deeply, she was aware, and though she was not accustomed to catering for, or even attending, large parties, this menu seemed to have more than enough to satisfy the nicest of tastes.

  'It's a great deal of work,' she said, thinking she was being feeble in not having anything else to say. 'How will you manage?'

  'That's no problem, Miss. Mrs Evans from the west gatehouse is an experienced cook, she worked in a big house before she was wed. She will see to the soup and vegetables, with a couple of women from the village to help her. I'll have more help too.'

  'The kitchen must be big to have you all working there.'

  'Yes, Miss. Would you care to see it?'

  Elizabeth recognized this as a sign of approval, not meant to demonstrate that her fears were unjustified, so she readily agreed, and was conducted forthwith to the north wing, which protruded back from the main section of the house.

  'His lordship changed the dining room as soon as he inherited,' Cook said as they made their way there. 'That was a blessing. In his father's day the big state dining room was at the other end of the house, and food was cold by the time it had been carried there. He changed it round, made one of the big saloons into a dining room. Though it hasn't been used for many big parties,' she added with a sigh. 'I'm hoping that will change soon. It's high time he was wed and producing bairns.'

  Elizabeth glanced at her, but her expression was bland. Nevertheless, Elizabeth wondered. Did the servants see that which Lord Clifford seemed oblivious of? Did they expect Annamarie to succeed and cajole her guardian into becoming her husband?

  The kitchen and attendant pantries, game larders, sculleries, cellars and still rooms, as well as the servants' hall and butler's pantry, all of which were shown to Elizabeth, occupied the whole ground floor of this wing. There were two huge ranges, only one of which was lit today, and three maids busy at the large central table, mixing dough and pastry, and chopping vegetables. A stockpot simmered on the range, and gave off a most appetising smell.