The Lonely Earl

by Vanessa Gray

  After dinner, when the gentlemen joined the ladies promptly — “can’t stand to linger over port with Astley!” Egmont had said more than once — the group split up into smaller groups. In one comer Astley had cornered the earl. Faustina moved near enough to hear the tenor of Mr. Astley’s words. “Yes, my daughter is such a comfort to me. I miss her sorely when she travels to her mother’s people — the Hortons, you know, of Hampshire — but then, they set such great value on her that I must not be selfish.”

  Faustina moved on. She did not need to hear the vicar to know the rest of his monologue. It rarely varied. After this particular paragraph would come one that extolled his daughter’s great charity toward the poor, and after that…

  Faustina glanced back once, and found that Hugh was watching her with the same wicked amusement that had overcome him at dinner. It was a surprisingly comfortable feeling, she realized, to know that Hugh was not driven to rudeness, as Vincent usually was, and that he could suffer fools, if not gladly, then at least with civility. A valuable asset, she admitted. She glanced around to find Vincent, but he had not yet joined the drawing-room party.

  Faustina was not the only one aware of Hugh’s trapped situation. It was only moments before Lady Waverly, ethereal in pale green gauze over a satin underskirt of the same color, floated over to join them. “Ah, now, Mr. Ast-ley, you must not monopolize the earl, you know! When I’m so anxious to know what news he has from London! For he was there, you know, after I had left. And my ball was such a crush — no time for a comfortable cose!”

  “Not for long, Lady Waverly, was I in London. I believe it was no more than the next day after you left that I passed through.”

  “Only passed through,” said Ned heavily. “A good idea. I am in no hurry myself to return to London. A mad rush this time of the year.”

  Louisa watched him narrowly. “I thought you were going back next week, Ned.”

  “Did I say that?” said Ned innocently. “But there are certainly advantages to the country, Pendarvis. I find it peaceful, refreshing as a change.”

  Julia cried, “Then why do you go so seldom to Beaufort? We never see you when we’re down there!”

  An uncomfortable silence fell, in which the whirring of thoughts was almost audible. Faustina glanced at her father, to find that his troubled look had deepened since this morning. This could not go on, she vowed. She would find out what trouble Ned had brought to the household. It certainly had to be more than coincidence that Ned’s arrival preceded her father’s distress by only a few hours.

  “But all the bright lights, the fun, the excitement,” cried Louisa energetically. “Always something doing. I do miss it. When are you planning to return to London, Pendarvis?” she asked directly. “I must make sure to introduce you to some people you may not remember.”

  Bone appeared in the doorway and caught Faustina’s eye. “A person to see Sir Edward,” he whispered to her. Ned did not seem surprised at the summons. In fact, he vanished through the front door into the night almost as though he had expected the caller.

  He was gone for no more than half an hour. When he came back, very little had altered. Lady Waverly was talking with Mary, Helen, and Egmont. But her eyes reached across the room often to where Julia and Aubrey sat apart at the chess table. “Such an odd amusement,” she murmured once, and then repeated herself with renewed vigor to Pendarvis, until he rose and went to watch the chess players.

  Ned’s eyes went swiftly around the room, noting that Vincent was still absent. He hesitated on the threshold, wondering whether to impart such information as he had just received, and to whom. The arrival at that moment of Vincent Crale through the open terrace windows seemed to afford him no relief at all. Vincent could have been… where? Listening to Ned’s conversation with his caller?

  Vincent put the lie to that. “Sorry, Faustina,” said Vincent jauntily. “Your man Oates’s got a new litter of hounds he wanted me to see. I thought I’d better get down there at once, before someone else gets the lurcher’s best!”

  The conversation swerved to hounds and hunting, and then Mr. Astley spoke. “I meant to tell you all before of my small triumph. You may know that I have been attempting to convince old Timothy of the wrongs of taking game unlawfully. And I think I have succeeded!”

  Hugh said with a lazy smile, “I’m glad to hear it, since it is no doubt my game that he finds most attractive!”

  “Oh, yes,” agreed Mr. Astley cordially. “For you know Lord Egmont’s warden is feared sufficiently that I don’t think old Timothy ventures upon his coverts at all.”

  Sure of the attention of his audience, the vicar was inclined to draw out his story, but a glance at Egmont induced him to hurry. “Timothy has not left his house at night for a week!”

  “Too bad,” burst forth Vincent, “that nobody knew he had gone over to religion!” He glanced furtively at Hugh.

  “Ah, but his wife is so proud! She believes, as I do, that his conversion is complete. The whole village knows. Counting the nights, as a matter of fact!” boasted the vicar.

  Hugh interposed smoothly, ‘This is Timothy’s own business, is it not? Religion, I have always believed, is a very private matter.” Then, seeing that the vicar’s eye was kindling to a new argument, he added hastily, “But we can discuss this at another time, can we not? I should be glad to hear your thoughts on the subject, Mr. Astley, when time is not so short.”

  Marveling at his kindly tact, Faustina watched, as, under Hugh’s influence, the vicar’s party was rattling down the driveway and Hugh and Vincent were not far behind.

  The members of the family relaxed visibly as they returned to the drawing room. Faustina rang for the tea cart, which was brought so promptly that she suspected it had been waiting at the hall door. Faustina took her own cup, after the others were served, to the small velvet chair she was fond of, and let her mind wander over the evening. The most spectacular landmarks, she decided, were those two glances shared with Hugh. If only he were not such an arrogant…

  “If only,” her own words echoed startlingly, “you appreciated the advantages I have provided for you!” But it was Louisa, speaking in sharp tones to her daughter. “When you have the opportunity to learn a little something of the world,” complained Louisa, “from the earl, who has traveled more than most of us, I cannot understand why you insisted on wrapping yourself up in that chess game!”

  Faustina had the strong impression that Julia had not heard her mother.

  “Chess is an interesting game,” offered Egmont.

  “It’s so… so solitary!” said Louisa pettishly. “It is the height of rudeness to play so exclusively, especially with Mr. Talbot!” Louisa managed to invest the man’s name with an implication that he might be a small boy’s tutor — at any rate, far beneath the notice of anyone with pretensions to position.

  “I vow I have never seen a man with such address,” cried Louisa. “Here we all had heard the most dire opinions of his manners…”

  “Mr. Talbot?” said Faustina with an air of innocence.

  “You know whom I mean! And, dear Faustina, I do not like to say this, but I am sure you have taken the wrong impression of the earl.”

  The dear earl, don’t you mean? Faustina thought wickedly.

  “Julia, I’m speaking to you!” announced Lady Waverly sharply. “Please pay attention to me! I could wish you had paid more attention to the earl. Don’t tell me again you find him unattractive!”

  “Yes, Mama!” answered Julia quietly.

  Faustina stared openly at her cousin. She had not heard her mother’s question, that much was plain, but in addition, her appearance seemed altered — perhaps the dreamy curve of her lips, or perhaps it was a new look of calmness in her eyes. Not the calmness of spiritual serenity, but of simple mental displacement. Julia was not here, in the drawing room of Kennett Chase, but somewhere dancing in the vivid world of her own thoughts.

  Louisa, thunderstruck at her daughter’s unfortunate answer, o
pened her carmined lips to remonstrate. “Julia! What did you say to me?”

  Egmont set his teacup down with a sharp click. Faustina winced on behalf of the Worcester procelain, but the proceedings were becoming too fascinating to dwell upon a chipped cup.

  “Now, then, Louisa,” he said forcefully, “why should young Julia make an effort to entertain the earl? You did enough for both. And I never thought I would be ashamed of any member of my near connection, but, by Gadfrey, you came mighty near the mark tonight!”

  Louisa rounded on him. Faustina thought, irreverently, that they might have been two oversized brats in the schoolroom, so vigorously did they go at each other.

  “Ashamed, James? You are a fine one to talk!”

  “Why don’t you marry him yourself?” demanded Egmont bluntly. “He surely must be convinced that you are hanging out for a title! Why not his?”

  This had gone far enough, Faustina judged. She started up from her chair. “Now, Papa…”

  Ned gestured her to silence with unaccustomed authority. She looked at him in surprise. Was this the cousin she had known since they were small children? He was watching his mother narrowly, and suddenly Faustina was sensible of a good deal of strength in her prosy cousin. Ned was not one to be set aside while one got on with the serious business of living. In fact, she thought fleetingly, he was more likely to be the serious side of living.

  Louisa had progressed a degree in her remarks to Egmont. “I pray you will not come the villain on me, James. After all, although I do not think I should choose to live in the country, yet I am old enough to know my own mind, at thirty-seven!”

  “Thirty-seven!” snorted Egmont. “Louisa, you forget that I know to a day how old you are. Take off a few more years, if you will. Thirty-seven sounds a bit old, does it not? You may as well take off another ten years. That will put Ned in leading strings. A fine sight for a government official!”

  Faustina was amazed. Her father had never before, to her knowledge, been so angry. He had lost his usual amiable tolerance, and the man who presented himself to her eyes now was an individual in his own right. How strange it was that she had, in the main, considered him only as “Father,” whereas he was James Kennett, with thirty years of living before she knew him, and possessed of who knew how many secret thoughts and wishes.

  It was a jarring concept. She was lost in her own tumbling thoughts until she heard her own name mentioned.

  “You’re no judge of the right thing to do,” Louisa railed. “Look at what you’ve done to Faustina!”

  “To Faustina?” said the baron, bewildered at the new tack her attack was taking. “What have I done to Faustina?”

  “Faustina will never complain!” cried Louisa. “She takes after my sainted sister…”

  Egmont was truly distressed. He had been set beside himself with anger at what he considered the ill-advised flirtation of Louisa with his near friend Hugh Crale. And, being essentially of a gentle nature, tolerant of all, he was embarrassed by the blatant (so he thought) advances of Louisa Waverly. Whether part of his distaste was due to the fact that he had always considered her a spoiled brat, he could not say, nor was he inclined to inquire more closely into his own motivations. But to cast an aspersion upon his darling Faustina — that was outside of enough! He turned and stalked furiously toward the door. Faustina was in two minds about whether to follow him out. Would he wish to be let alone for a bit…?

  Louisa, overwrought and excessively weary, lost, then, any vestige of control she might have had. A loud cry announced to all that she was about to succumb to a bout of screaming hysterics, which she proceeded to demonstrate.

  At last the rigor that had seized them all was broken. Ned moved efficiently to his mother, with one word. “Julia!” Julia, awakened at last from die trance she had enjoyed since the departure of the vicarage party, came to life and slipped into the practiced routine she had found most effective in the past.

  “Now, Mama, you’re perfectly right. How terrible that you should be subjected to such a scene! I can’t think what Uncle is thinking of.”

  She threw an apologetic glance toward her uncle, breathing heavily just inside the door. His face was drawn in aggravated distaste. He moved his hand in protest, but second thoughts prevailed, and he remained silent, stepping aside when Faustina came to the door.

  Bone was waiting in the hall for the summons to remove the tea cart, and she beckoned to him. “Yes, Miss Faustina? I have already taken the liberty of sending for Sanders.”

  “Bless you, Bone,” said Faustina softly.

  Sanders came scurrying along the hall from the kitchen. “Got into it, has her ladyship?” she muttered. “Knew it was coming. Been quiet too long.” She glanced sideways at Lord Egmont and pressed her lips firmly together. Turning back to Faustina, she said, “Don’t you worry none, miss. We’ve had these kind of wild nights before. As you remember, I’m sure. There’s a small bottle I’ve got, Miss Kennett, and a drop or two will fix everything right and tight.”

  She vanished at speed into the drawing room, past Faustina and Lord Egmont. Faustina looked anxiously at her father. He was wrapped in his own dark mood, and wisely she refrained from disturbing him. She could hear Louisa’s shrieks subsiding little by little, and the words of her minions came clearer.

  “Too bad,” said Julia very kindly, “that you will look so wretched tomorrow, when the earl may decide the weather is fine enough for a picnic.”

  Whether it was the thought of her declining looks, or simply weariness, it was impossible to say, but Lady Waverly at last allowed herself to be assisted up the broad stairway and out of sight. Not until they heard the door of her room shut behind her, and the sound of her sobs was stilled, did Egmont draw a long, shuddering breath.

  Faustina said tremulously, “I feel like a bit of sea wrack, left behind on the shingle.”

  Ned flashed her a look of appreciation. “I suppose I should apologize, sir, and certainly…” He could not find words sufficient to express his disgust He merely shook his head and let his sentence die away.

  Egmont said to Faustina in a cold voice, “My dear, best get the drawing room cleaned. A fumigation would be best.”

  Ned followed him into the hall. “Sir,” he said in a low voice, “I should tell you what my visitor had to say.”

  With an effort, Egmont wrenched his mind away from the recent scene. “The caller who stayed outside?”

  “A riding officer,” explained Ned. “One of the excise-men from the post at Exeter. This night he will be watching the coast with his men.”

  “Why tonight?”

  “It is dark, you see. Cloudy. No moon. He thinks it a perfect night for the smugglers to try to set their cargo ashore. Whatever it is.”

  “Whatever it is?” echoed Egmont, startled. “Then you expect… the cargo you spoke of?”

  “Most probably. But he won’t escape, sir. That I promise you!”

  Chapter 13

  Ned was not quite so sure of himself at breakfast the next morning. Indeed, Egmont thought, he seemed unusually morose. He accepted another cup of coffee in silence.

  Lord Egmont as a rule enjoyed his food, and today was no exception. After Devon ham, little biscuits with wild strawberry conserve, and two coddled eggs, he was willing to put his mind to his gloomy nephew.

  “What was the catch last night?” he asked. “Unsatisfactory, I must assume.”

  Ned grumbled, “In fact, we got not a thing!”

  “We?” said Egmont, raising an eyebrow. “Were you out last night? After all that rain? You’ll catch your death!”

  “No, no. I wasn’t out. I’d be no use in an ambush,” he said, clearly visualizing himself as a villain manqué. “Too late to start jauntering around in the dark, especially in country I don’t know. Better leave it to the professionals!”

  “But you wish you had gone,” pointed out his uncle with a twinkle.

  The light leaping in Ned’s eyes showed Egmont he was right. “It w
ould have been such a lark!” Ned cried boyishly. “And you, sir, you would have enjoyed it above all things!”

  Egmont said with mock austerity, “Perhaps I should have, once.”

  “You can’t hoax me upon that score, sir!” exclaimed Ned, before the weight of his duty descended upon his shoulders once more. What had happened, he explained, was that the smugglers failed to land. “Didn’t come at all.”

  “You mean along the section of the beach below Tre-van?”

  “I mean as far as the estuary/’ said Ned, crumbling a biscuit unheedingly in his fingers. “We had a good deal of the coast watched. And not a sail showed.”

  “Perhaps the wind was wrong,” Egmont offered.

  “Perhaps,” Ned agreed reluctantly, “and then, perhaps, they were warned.”

  “Warned?” Egmont stirred uneasily. “Probably your men moved into position with the secrecy of Hannibal’s elephants!”

  “I suppose so. You can’t move many men along these country lanes without causing notice. At any rate, now it’s all to do over again.”

  Ned sat long at the breakfast table. In fact, after Egmont had departed, Ned still stared, unseeing, while Faustina joined him, refilled his coffeecup, and ate her own huge breakfast.

  Faustina herself watched her cousin warily. Egmont had told her nothing except to ask no questions. She merely said, after she deemed Ned’s silence had gone on long enough, “Maybe the earl will have his picnic today.”

  She rolled her eyes significantly toward the ceiling.

  “You mean you want another exhibition like last evening?” said Ned sourly. “I vow I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.” He contemplated his empty cup unfavorably, and Faustina promptly filled it.

  At an apparent tangent, Faustina mused, “Papa has gone to inspect the cottages up at More.”

  Ned looked up, puzzled. “So?”

  “The farthest comer of the estate. He said we should not expect him back to lunch. And I would be surprised, myself, were he to return before nightfall. The cottagers have my aunt’s presence to thank for this attention!”