by Sally James
‘Do you know who did it?’
‘I have my suspicions. Dan, whose wife killed that lass at the Dower House, has been seen living rough in your woods. I wouldn’t give him his job back, and he resents it. I’ve no doubt it’s him.’
‘I’ve tried to find him, before now,’ Mr Trubshaw put in anxiously, ‘but I suspect he moves from place to place. I’ve found a couple of shelters he seems to have built from branches, but they’d been abandoned before I go there.’
‘Never mind that,’ Mr Lewis interrupted. ‘What we want’s a full man hunt in the woods. They’re too big for one man to search. Then we can give him up to the constable. Mr Brooke, will you let us do it, tomorrow?’
Jeremy raised his glass, found it empty, and refilled it. ‘Tally ho! It’sh off to hunt we go! What time in the morning can you get your hunt together?’
‘By eight. All my own lads are eager, and they’re down in the village now telling the others.’
‘Has Dan any friends who might warn him?’ Nicholas asked. ‘Lady Brooke once met him, and she told Staines, who told me, he claimed he had friends who took him food.’
‘They know if they warn him they’ll have me to deal with! So we have your permission, sir?’
Jeremy, slurring his words, nodded. ‘Shure you do, Mr Lewish. Where do you shtart?’
‘West side. Then he can’t make a break Devon way. Though I wish he’d go back there.’
* * * *
Catarina and Delphine were at a small musical evening where the latest sensational soprano, according to their hostess, would be performing. They had arrived early and been ushered to seats at the front. Delphine sat sideways on her chair and kept commenting to Catarina about the guests who followed them. Catarina resisted looking round, not wishing to know whether Nicholas might be there. She had no desire to meet him.
At the interval, after politely applauding an uninspiring performance by a very attractive but not very talented singer, they were invited to another room where a buffet had been laid out.
‘Let’s hope the trio we’ve been promised for afterwards is better,’ Delphine muttered into Catarina’s ear as they rose to move. ‘We can’t leave, sitting right at the front.’
Catarina nodded. She had suffered so many sleepless nights lately she had almost fallen asleep, and only by pinching herself hard had she managed to stay awake. She turned towards the door and gasped. Looking straight at her was Sir Humphrey Unwin.
There was no way to avoid him. She had not seen him since she had refused his offer, and to meet him here in London was most unfortunate, as he rarely visited. For a dreadful moment she wondered if he had somehow discovered she was here and had followed her. He stood aside to let the rest of the small audience leave the room, and when he could moved towards Catarina.
‘My dear Lady Brooke. What a pleasant surprise to see you here. Staines gave me the impression you had gone to Bath, but the man looked so shifty I rather doubted him. I wondered whether you had come to London, but you have not opened your town house, your tenants are in residence.’
So the man had checked up on her, had he? Why did he think he had the right to do so?
‘Sir Humphrey,’ she managed. ‘What a surprise to see you here. Do you stay in town for long?’
‘That will depend,’ he said, and gave her a speaking look. ‘Won’t you introduce me to your charming companion?’
As they moved on to the supper room, Sir Humphrey between them, Delphine kept up a flow of inconsequential chatter, allowing Catarina to regain her composure. They found a small table laid for three, and Catarina, whose appetite had vanished, tried to bear her part in the conversation while she nibbled at lobster patties and sipped champagne.
‘I hope I may be permitted to call,’ Sir Humphrey said as they rose at the signal and started back to the temporary auditorium.
‘Of course, Sir Humphrey. I receive on Wednesdays.’
‘Who is he?’ Delphine hissed as they regained their seats. ‘He was looking at you as though he could eat you.’
‘Walter’s friend. Hush now, they are waiting to start.’
‘I will not accept any more invitations to musical evenings,’ Delphine declared as they were driven home. ‘I don’t know which was the worst, the soprano or the violinist whose instrument was out of tune. Now, your very attentive Sir Humphrey. Tell me all.’
‘Let’s wait until we are back at home,’ Catarina said, conscious of the coachman, even though he might not be able to hear anything.
Delphine did not permit her to escape. She led the way into her boudoir and dismissed her maid.
‘Tell.’
Catarina bowed to the inevitable, praying that Delphine would not spread gossip, but unable to evade telling her.
‘He lives a few miles from Marshington Grange, has been Walter’s friend for decades, lost his wife a few years ago, his children are all married and away from home. He is lonely, and wants another wife.’
‘He wants you for wife. Catarina, my dearest friend, you won’t marry another old man, will you?’
‘Of course I won’t. I don’t suppose I’ll marry again.’
‘Has he offered?’
‘Yes, and I refused him, very decidedly, but like many men he cannot accept that what a woman says might be what she means. I’m horribly afraid he intends to ask me again. He implied as much when I refused him.’
‘And means to ask you while he’s here, if I read him aright.’
‘He’ll keep on asking until he wears down my resistance. He is that kind of stubborn man. But I swear I won’t give way.’
Delphine, to Catarina’s annoyance, laughed.
‘Poor man. He’ll come and make sheep’s eyes at you. We will have to provide you with a more suitable cavalier. That would perhaps deter him. I know just the right one. My brother-in-law George is a few years older than we are, a confirmed bachelor, but also a confirmed flirt. He will be in town in a few days, I must ask him to play the suitor and guard you from old roués like Sir Humphrey.’
Catarina began to deny Sir Humphrey was a roué, then wondered why she need defend him. If Delphine considered him in that light it might make her more willing to aid Catarina in avoiding or rejecting his offers. She was able to face seeing him again more calmly.
* * * *
The search of Marshington’s woods found traces of Dan’s occupation, but no Dan. Jeremy had woken with a sore head and refused to take part, saying he’d hear soon enough if the man were caught, but he had no desire to spend the morning tramping through wet undergrowth.
‘Let’s hope he has left the district,’ Nicholas said when Trubshaw brought the news.
He planned to go back to London on Monday, in two days’ time, and after a good deal of persuasion Jeremy agreed to go with him. Nicholas was relieved. He wanted to distract his brother from the difficulties he was encountering trying to introduce his ideas to the conservative villagers. Jeremy was young, too impatient, and liable to offend people by not taking their views into consideration.
On Sunday he hoped to see Catarina, but she was not in church, and when he asked Mrs Eade, hoping she was not ill, the Rector’s wife said she had gone to some watering place.
‘She has been indisposed for the past few weeks, and I believe a change will be good for her, but I do not know which spa she has gone to. I don’t believe it is Bath, for I wrote to enquire from a friend who lives there whether she had been seen. Besides, she has her own house in Bath, and could have taken the baby, but she left the child behind. So I assume it was a longer journey, and she would be staying in lodgings. The only servant she has taken with her is her maid. She did not even go in her own carriage, which is another reason I believe she has gone some distance.’
‘What a gabblemonger!’ Jeremy exclaimed when they were barely out of Mrs Eade’s hearing. ‘What business is it of hers where Catarina is? Why does she need to check on her?’
‘She was probably trying to help, assuming we needed
to speak to Catarina about the estate,’ Nicholas said.
‘Apart from asking her if she knows how I can make these people listen to me, there’s nothing.’
They made an early start and reached Grosvenor Square late the same evening. Olivia, they were told, was at some debutante’s ball, and would not be back until late, so for once they went to bed early, though it had been suggested on the journey that they might look in at White’s for a few hours.
Nicholas had to remain in London for the next few weeks, to oversee Olivia’s own ball, and there were a few debates he wanted to attend in the House. It would be a long time before he saw Catarina again. He would have to do his utmost to forget her.
Chapter 10
‘Nearly everyone has accepted,’ Olivia told Nicholas the morning after he reached London. ‘It will be such a crush! How wonderful!’
He smiled at her. His little sister had blossomed during the past few weeks. She had changed her hairstyle and she wore more fashionable gowns. She was acquiring some town bronze. Though still appealingly shy, she was not looking scared most of the time as she had when with Lady Keith. He seemed to have chosen wisely in asking Lady Mortimer to be her duenna.
‘So what have you been doing while we were out of town?’
She reeled off a list of balls and receptions and morning calls.
‘I wanted to go to Vauxhall Gardens, but Lady Mortimer said it was not suitable, too many cits went there, and we had no male protectors. Nicholas, now you and Jeremy are back, could we not go?’
‘We’ll see.’
‘That’s what you always say when you don’t wish to do something. I suppose you will say it when I ask to go to a masquerade. Louisa told me they are great fun.’
Nicholas made a mental note to tell Lady Mortimer to avoid Louisa, whoever she was, as a bad influence.
‘I’ll refuse permission entirely for that!’ he said now. ‘Vauxhall is bad enough, but for you, or any respectable girl, to go to a masquerade is out of the question.’
‘Why? People just go masked, don’t they?’
‘They — ‘ he paused. How could he explain to his innocent young sister that these affairs were licentious, that unsuitable, even disreputable people attended, and most of the men and women who patronized them were seeking particular unsavoury pleasures?
‘They what?’
‘A masked ball in a private house, with invited guests only, is acceptable,’ he said slowly. ‘But at public affairs one does not know who might be there, anyone with the price of a ticket.’
Olivia looked unconvinced. ‘I think that’s odiously toplofty! Why should we mix only with the ton? I like being with some of the villagers at Brooke Court, they are friendly and helpful.’
‘Our own people are different, we’ve known them all our lives. But there are some unscrupulous characters at public masquerades.’ He paused for a moment, and then decided it would do no harm to frighten her a little. ‘If they knew you had expectations from Grandmama, for example, or that I am your brother, they might attempt to kidnap you and hold you for ransom.’ Or worse, he thought, but it would destroy all Olivia’s new-found confidence to spell out the other dangers. At private functions she was safe, protected.
‘Oh. Then of course I won’t ask to go,’ she conceded. ‘Perhaps we could arrange a small masked party here, after my ball, then?’
He was happy to agree.
‘Have you met anyone interesting?’ he asked, wondering if any of the young men had attracted her notice.
‘Oh, yes. But can you guess who is in town? Lady Brooke, Catarina. She is staying with a Mrs Pearce, who used to be at school with her. Lady Mortimer and I went to have tea with them, and their cook had made some delicious cakes. They weren’t from Gunter’s, and some I had never tasted before. I think one was a Portuguese receipt Cat — Lady Brooke had taught her.’
For a few moments Nicholas was incapable of speaking. Catarina was here, within his reach, and they were likely to meet. How should he behave towards her? Did he wish to renew his offer? He was undecided. He still longed to possess her, but did he wish to have her as his wife?
‘Are they coming to your ball?’ he asked finally. ‘Have you sent invitations?’
‘Oh yes, and I have also asked Mrs Pearce’s brother-in-law, George Pearce. He is in the 10th Light Dragoons, the Prince’s own regiment, and he looks so smart in his uniform. And Nicholas,’ she said, giggling slightly, ‘I think he is in love with Catarina. He could not take his eyes from her, and when he was leaving he held her hands for far longer than he did Mrs Pearce’s.’
Nicholas had a great deal to consider when Olivia left him to go with Lady Mortimer to purchase new evening sandals. Catarina was here in London. He would meet her soon, and she apparently had a new admirer. The thought infuriated him, and eventually decided him that he wanted Catarina sufficiently to make her an apology and an offer.
* * * *
Catarina meanwhile was attempting to deflect another offer. Sir Humphrey had arrived in Hill Street that afternoon in a barouche, and she had been forced to drive out with him. Delphine had, she learned with disquiet, accepted the invitation on her behalf.
‘You have to make your refusal firmer,’ her friend admonished. ‘If you decline and make it absolutely clear you do not wish him to repeat his offer, perhaps he will go home and you will be free of him.’
‘And perhaps not. Delphine, you do not know the stubbornness of the man! I can refuse him a score or more times and he will still regard it as maidenly reticence.’
‘Well, talk about George all the time. I could see young Olivia’s eyes grow even bigger when they were here, and he was ogling you so blatantly.’
Catarina giggled. ‘He was behaving like the lover in a ridiculous farce.’
‘I will get him to ride in the Park and meet you there. If that does not signal to your ancient Sir Humphrey that his suit is hopeless, nothing will, until you become betrothed to someone else.’
Not at all sure that meeting George in the Park would deter Sir Humphrey, who seemed to have grown in his own self-esteem as he became older, Catarina joined him in his hired barouche with great foreboding. It was a staid conveyance, and she longed to be driven in a high-perch phaeton, such as she saw the young men and their fortunate companions enjoying. Might she regard him more kindly if he provided her with that pleasure? She shivered at the thought. Though he was a competent driver in the country, she had never seen him drive anything but a gig or, occasionally, when the roads were dry and easy to negotiate, a curricle. But all his horses were sluggish, far from excitable. He would never be able to control high-spirited teams with the same skill as was shown by many of the more sporting young men.
They reached the Park in a steady trot, and for the first round Sir Humphrey confined his remarks to news from Somerset, and comments on how life in London was becoming more unpleasant.
‘I shall be glad to return home,’ he said, and paused. ‘I shall be even happier, my dear, if you will consent to become my wife and come with me to prepare for our marriage. I envisage a simple ceremony, conducted by the Reverend Eade. As a widow you will not wish for a great show, or to spend months preparing a trousseau. From the many new gowns I have seen you wearing up in town I assume you have been shopping, and have sufficient. Nor is it as though we were setting up home together. I imagine that between us we have everything of a household nature that we need.’
Catarina had been attempting to break into this flow of eloquence, and at last, when he paused for breath, she was able to speak.
‘Sir Humphrey, you go too fast. I have not, and will not, ever, agree to become your wife. I have already refused you once, and it distresses me to have to listen to you when there is no hope. Please take me back home now.’
She could swear the coachman’s shoulders were shaking, and she could not blame him. Without waiting for Sir Humphrey’s order he turned the barouche towards the Park entrance, and just at that moment George Pearce r
ode up and saluted them.
‘My dear Lady Brooke, what a surprise to meet you here,’ he sang out, winking outrageously at Catarina. ‘It was such a pleasure to dance with you last night, and I am looking forward to doing so again, tonight and many other times.’
Catarina smothered a grin. They had been to no ball on the previous day, nor was one planned for tonight.
‘Mr Pearce. Sir Humphrey, may I introduce my good hostess’s brother-in-law, George Pearce. He has been so assiduous in escorting us ladies around town. Mr Pearce, Sir Humphrey Unwin lives in Somerset, and was a good friend to my late husband.’
The men bowed coldly to one another, and Catarina was startled to detect the creak of corsets from Sir Humphrey. He had been growing corpulent over the past few years, but she had never suspected him of the vanity which would make him adopt such a fashion.
George rode alongside for a while, chatting eagerly to Catarina about mutual acquaintances, and occasionally, seeming to recall Sir Humphrey’s presence, tossing a few remarks to him. Then he bowed, brazenly lifted Catarina’s hand to his lips, and took his leave, again reminding her she had promised to reserve the waltz for him that evening.
‘H’m. Just the sort of fortune-hunting scoundrel I wish to protect you from, my dear lady!’
Catarina stiffened. ‘George Pearce has an independent fortune, and I like him. I consider him a good friend, Sir Humphrey, and would be grateful if you do not abuse him.’
They drove back to Hill Street with him keeping an offended silence. Catarina hoped she had done enough to prevent future proposals, but she was sorry if he had been hurt, for he had been a good friend to Walter. He allowed the footman who came out of the house to assist her from the barouche, merely nodding farewell, and ordering the coachman to drive on before she had gained the house.
* * * *
Lady Mortimer received on Tuesdays, and Nicholas was sitting with them when Sir Humphrey was announced. After paying attentions to the ladies, Sir Humphrey moved to sit next to Nicholas.
