Amberley Chronicles Boxset II (Amberley Chronicles Box Sets Book 2)

by May Burnett

  It was at this moment that her mother swept in, her face rigid.

  “Anthea Desborough! How can you stuff your face with chocolates at a time like this?”

  Incongruously, Anthea felt an impulse to laugh. Tragedy was turning into farce before her eyes.

  She shrugged, pretending indifference. “Since I missed dinner, this is all the sustenance I have.”

  “I can hardly believe what I learned from your father when I returned to the Hall just before dinner. How could you -?! So that was why you asked all those questions about relations between men and women! When you already knew all about it!”

  That circumstance seemed to irk her almost more than the rest. Anthea straightened her spine. “Believe it or not, Mother, I still have only the most remote and theoretical knowledge. Silas lied to Father, to prevent me from breaking off the engagement. I have done nothing wrong.”

  Her mother stared at her for so long that Anthea dared to hope her words had penetrated, but it was not to be.

  “I can hardly believe such lack of remorse and stubborn denial. How could you do this, Anthea? From your earliest years I have striven to instil sound principles in your character, and now this?! There are no words adequate to express the depth of my disappointment.”

  Anthea tried to speak, but thought better of it. She saw her mother with new eyes – not the unquestioned authority she had always been, but a middle-aged women of rigid principle who was trying her best, and yet so very misguided and unwilling to trust in the results of her efforts.

  “You are mistaken,” was all she said after a long pause. “But I see your mind is closed. How did you explain my absence at dinner, may I ask? What did you tell my maid?”

  “You have caught a sudden cold. Your maid was told not to attend you in case it was catching.”

  “I see.” Anthea breathed a small sigh of relief. “You realise that you cannot continue to imprison me like this, as though I were a naughty child, without risking unpleasant gossip? It is absolutely ridiculous to try and starve me on the word of a scoundrel like Lord Winstanton.”

  Her mother frowned. “Silas is your future husband. There is no alternative whatsoever now.”

  “Don’t you see that this is the motive for his allegations all along?” Why was she still trying to get her mother to see reason?

  “Nonsense. You are already engaged. The wedding would have gone forward in any case.” Lady Desborough hesitated a moment, then commanded, “You will remain sick for two more days. I shall inform you maid that your cold is not catching, and that you are to be served light meals in your rooms. She will sleep here with you at night – I shall send her as soon as I leave. You will not be left alone with Winstanton or any other man, till the wedding.”

  Anthea shrugged. “I do not have the slightest wish to be alone with him.”

  “Anthea,” her mother asked anxiously, “you will inform me at once if your courses are late, - and also if they come on time.”

  She raised her brows. “Why?” That was a subject Cherry had not touched upon. What did it have to do with what Silas and she had supposedly done?

  “Never mind why, but I want to be informed immediately.”

  Anthea did not reply. She would have to find out from Cherry what her mother was driving at.

  “Maybe I should have warned you more explicitly,” Lady Desborough said bleakly, still staring at Anthea. “He took advantage of your innocence. But even so, that any daughter of mine would allow it, is beyond my understanding.”

  Of course she never would have allowed it, the whole idea was simply too gross for words. Anthea deliberately took another chocolate from the box.

  “I am tired and hungry,” she said. “Good night, Mother.”

  The Countess was not so easy to dismiss, but a few minutes later she departed at last, with additional admonitions and reproaches. They did not hurt as much as they might have, now that Anthea saw her mother as a fallible, easily manipulated woman. Her naïve trust and confidence in her parents would never be completely mended. Yet another change she had Silas to thank for.

  Why did growing up have to hurt so much?

  Chapter 25

  Sometimes a happy resolution can be helped along with a few well-chosen words at the right time.

  Maxims for Young Gentlewomen, by A Lady, London 1823

  Charles had not enjoyed his dinner, incessantly worrying over Lady Anthea. The guests had been told that she was confined to her rooms with a cold, but that did not jibe with his own observations. While her parents looked appropriately serious, Lord Winstanton ate large portions of everything, utterly unconcerned. Charles felt an almost irresistible desire to jump up from his seat and plant the man a facer, but that would hardly have assisted Lady Anthea, and merely led to his own swift removal from the premises.

  The half hour over the port stretched to near infinity. Finally free to join the ladies in the drawing room, he found only Miss Trevor, playing the pianoforte. After she had concluded her performance he drew her apart in a corner of the room, and lost no time in describing how he had met Lady Anthea crying earlier in the afternoon. As expected she immediately agreed to go to her cousin.

  “I wondered at this sudden and possibly contagious sickness, when my aunt told me not to visit Anthea. She hardly ever suffers the slightest sniffle. Poor girl, this engagement is not turning out as she had hoped. I wager it is Silas who made her cry. If she does not come to her senses soon, it will only be the first time of many such times.”

  “I doubt she will actually marry him. Your cousin is no fool.”

  “No,” Cecily agreed, “but too inclined to take society’s or her elders’ valuations at face value.”

  As the older members of the group were setting up a whist table, Cecily linked her arm with Charles’. “Come, let us not keep poor Anthea waiting any longer. We still have to fetch Cherry.”

  “Your Cousin does not want me, only female support, I understood.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “She did say she wanted her friends,” he recalled. “I would like to count myself among their number.”

  “Whatever Silas has done this time, it will be useful to have your masculine perspective.”

  Cecily led the way to the Durwents’ apartments in the family wing. Cherry answered her knock after a longish delay, in a silk dressing-gown. Apprised of her sister’s situation and assured that there was no contagious disease to threaten her babe, she promised to come to Anthea’s rooms within minutes.

  When Miss Trevor and he reached their destination in a part of the house he had not previously visited, Anthea was still up and fully dressed. Her eyes showed traces of crying, but she had mastered her emotions well enough as she received them, and was admirably calm.

  “Thank you,” she said to Charles, after he had explained that Cherry would follow almost immediately. “I am in trouble, and need a council of war.”

  Charles looked around the elegant sitting-room, presumably adjoining the bedroom, as there was a closed door to the side. He was relieved that the place did not appear unduly private for a conference. “If you do not object, I would like to offer my counsel and support also. I can keep a confidence.”

  Anthea hesitated for a moment. “In that case,” she said, “you are welcome to stay. I need all the support I can get.”

  That sounded ominous. Charles exchanged an alarmed glance with Cecily.

  “We’ll need another chair,” Cecily said, lowering the tension with this appeal to the practical. “Let me fetch the one from the other room.” She bustled through the side door, a minute later dragging a heavy upholstered armchair through the aperture. Charles hastened to assist her.

  “Cherry can have that one,” Anthea decided, waving her guests towards the other chairs. She did not settle down herself, and was pacing between the fireplace and her writing table.

  Cherry entered a minute later, in a cheerful yellow tea gown billowing over her stomach. At last Anthea sat, facing her
three visitors. “I am in disgrace with Papa and Mama,” she announced.

  “Why?” Cecily asked, echoing Charles’ own reaction. “Lord Desborough has always been a kind and indulgent father.”

  “Silas,” Anthea said bleakly. “That snake. This is all his fault.”

  The appellation struck Charles as endearingly childish for a young lady, but after she had explained what happened, he felt it did not nearly go far enough in condemnation. The Viscount was a complete and utter villain to have slandered such a lovely innocent as Lady Anthea.

  “Why is it,” Anthea finished her recital, “that I am more angry at Father and Mother, for not believing me, than at Silas?”

  “That is natural enough,” Cherry explained, “we can be hurt most by those we love and trust. Now that you have Winstanton’s measure you are no longer susceptible to be wounded by him at your deepest level, but it is very different with your parents. Not to be believed when you are in the right is bitter, and it will take some time to come to terms with it.”

  “You will forgive them eventually,” Charles predicted. “Remember that you were also taken in by Winstanton for quite some time. By confessing something shameful, he becomes instantly more credible. Honest and straightforward people like your parents, who would never indulge in that kind of manipulation, will be unable to see how it cleverly redounds to his own advantage.”

  “At least you knew that we would believe you,” Cecily said bracingly.

  “Well, I knew already,” Cherry declared. “Why did you not send word to me the moment I returned? I could have told your – I mean, our – father, that I had heard Silas threaten exactly this the other day. Maybe with a witness in your favour he would have been more open-minded.”

  “It would be humiliating if he believes you, whom he has known for little more than a week, over me, who has lived here as his daughter all his life.”

  “Your good name is not yet lost,” Cherry said. “It makes strategic sense for Winstanton to make your father believe this lie, but he can have no interest to bruit it about outside the immediate family, as long as he still expects to go through with the marriage.”

  “I agree – but once he is chased off, Winstanton will have no motive to shut up,” Charles pointed out. “Such men tend to be vindictive and eager to avenge any setback without the slightest regard to truth and honour.”

  “Nobody will want me,” Anthea said baldly. “I have already come to that conclusion. Maybe it serves me right, for being so eager to conclude a splendid match that I forgot to look closely at the man’s character.”

  “Very little of this mess is your fault, Anthea,” Cherry told her. “Blaming yourself will only make it harder to deal with the very real threat before you.”

  “And don’t ever fear that no man will want to marry you,” Charles said. “I can guarantee that there are fellows who would cut off their arm for the chance.”

  Three pairs of feminine eyes turned on him in speculation.

  “Interesting,” Cherry said with a smile. Charles felt his neck grow hot.

  “But you are going to be a vicar,” Cecily said, “Your grandfather said it was essential that no scandal should adhere to your bride. If Silas goes around slandering Anthea, she might not be regarded as suitable for a clergyman.”

  Anthea nodded. “Not only a clergyman - most men would think twice, or three times, before tying themselves to a woman rumoured to be compromised.”

  “Then they are fools,” Charles declared.

  Cherry shook her head at him. “Could you, here and now, offer for my sister, knowing that a nasty scandal is brewing above her innocent head?”

  Charles looked from her challenging hazel eyes to Anthea’s blue ones, the white around the pupils still faintly pink from recent tears. He was merely consoling her, but if it came to the point, he would not hesitate for a moment before throwing all his own plans overboard in her service.

  “Yes,” he said firmly. “If you will have me, Lady Anthea, I offer you my name.”

  She smiled tremulously, and seemed on the verge of speaking.

  He went on quickly. “You are free to take me up on this proposal at any time, my lady, but I would recommend that you not make any life-changing decisions before we have dealt with Lord Winstanton as he deserves. You are overwrought and understandably sad, and such decisions should be made after calm reflection, without any pressure. Unless,” he recalled himself, “you were going to reject me, as I deserve, in which case no reflection is required. You will find plenty of better men eager to wed you yet, whatever happens.”

  “I am not so sure of that.” Cecily winked at him.

  “You are right.” Anthea looked down on her hands, one finger marked by a faint pink line. “I accepted Lord Winstanton’s proposal too quickly, and have lived to regret my impulsiveness. I will give due thought to this new prospect.” Her eyes had regained some of their customary sparkle.

  “Let’s return to immediate necessities,” Cherry proposed. “Do you want me to talk to our father, Anthea, and try to convince him that Winstanton was bluffing?”

  Anthea hesitated. “I fear it would do little good at this point. His mind is made up.”

  “Your father will realise his error eventually,” Cecily said impatiently, “The real menace is Lord Winstanton. Is there no way to stop his mouth and get rid of him? Short of murder.”

  “For the first time, I feel some sympathy for murderers,” Anthea said, the corner of her lovely lips turning up the tiniest fraction. “There are some people and situations that drive all ordinary scruples out of one’s mind.”

  “It is not as bad as all that,” Charles said. “I trust you are joking, Lady Anthea. Though my offer stands even if not.”

  She smiled reluctantly, as he had hoped.

  “I have a plan,” Cherry announced. “It is already in motion, and though it cannot stop Lord Winstanton’s mouth for good, it should rob whatever he says afterwards of much of its force. However, its effectiveness depends on no rumours of his lies leaking out beforehand.”

  “Before what?” Anthea demanded.

  “The dinner party next week. Are you going to be allowed to attend it?”

  “I think so. I am only to be sick for three days, and Mother would not want to raise unnecessary speculation,” Anthea said. “She will uphold the appearance that all is well, whatever happens. Do you mean it, that my problems could end so soon? It is only five days away.”

  “It is not an altogether sure thing, as it depends on outside help,” Cherry warned, “but it should work, with any luck. All you need to do is carry that green ring on your person, and keep in mind that you are a high-minded, highly respectable young lady who abhors any wickedness and vice; the kind of girl who would never forgive a suitor for a deception or less than perfect morals.”

  “That is only the truth,” Charles said, “no acting should be required.”

  “I can do that,” Anthea agreed. “I hope I am not a prig, but Silas has certainly not earned any forbearance from me.”

  “In that case, just be alert for your cue. Until then, bar your doors, just in case, and make sure you are never alone with your fiancé.”

  “Mother thought of that already. My maid is sleeping in here, on a cot.”

  “I could also sleep in your bedroom, the way we do when you visit us,” Cecily offered.

  “Even better, but still lock and bar the doors,” Cherry advised. “The three of us will make sure he cannot get you alone in the daytime, once you are over your ‘cold’; I shall get Jonathan to help as well.”

  “Don’t tell him the details of Silas’s threats,” Anthea pleaded. “It is too embarrassing. The very idea is humiliating.”

  “Even if were true, your friends would not hold it against you,” Cherry reassured her. “But I shall not breathe a word to anyone. When you talk to your mother and aunt, impress upon them, if you can, not to talk to anyone about these allegations.”

  Charles wondered if they
needed to be told. Surely the Countess would understand that such gossip would only hurt her daughter and her family’s consequence.

  As Charles left Anthea’s sitting room, Cherry fell into step with him. “You surprise me,” she commented. “Since your devotion to young Anthea is obvious, why aren’t you rearing to challenge him to a duel?”

  “I disapprove of settling affairs with violence. We must have a care for Anthea’s reputation, and what would be more dangerous to it than the sensation of a duel for her sake? And whether I kill the fellow or he kills me, what would it prove in the end, except our mutual stupidity?”

  “You are far more sensible than most men your age. I would not mind having you as my brother-in-law.”

  “It will not come to that - I was merely convincing Lady Anthea that she need not despair of a happy union eventually,” he said uneasily. “Her parents would not allow her to throw herself away on me, and she would ultimately regret doing so herself.”

  Cherry shrugged. “We shall see. I must say, this house party offers far more drama than I had bargained on.”

  Charles had to agree on that score. He had come to Kent merely in order to spend some time with his grandfather and clarify the exigencies of his vow in his own mind. Yet compared to Lady Anthea’s undeserved suffering, these concerns seemed unimportant. Since he had seen her crying, he had not been able to focus on theology for a single minute.

  How could her parents be so blind?

  Chapter 26

  It takes strength of character to admit a mistake.

  Maxims for Young Gentlewomen, by A Lady, London 1823

  Charles went for a brisk walk. He had briefly considered riding instead, aware that the splendid horses in Lord Desborough’s stables were waiting on his convenience. But for clearing up muddled thoughts, nothing beat walking.

  Fog ghosted over the treetops, and the clouds were hanging low. Even in these less than ideal conditions, the extensive park was a balm to his soul. Not that Charles spared the carefully planned and cunningly placed attractions more than impatient glances, as he trod on freshly fallen leaves crinkling under his boots.