by Buck, Gayle
“Indeed, a grievous loss,” agreed Lady Ratcliffe grudgingly.
“It is a harsh thing to be cast upon the world, suddenly and without family,” said Lady Cassandra.
Joan was seated beside her ladyship on the settee and Lady Cassandra patted the young woman’s arm. “But Miss Chadwick is more fortunate than many, for we are now to become her family.”
Lady Ratcliffe stiffened in her chair, her eyes flashing, all of her sparse sympathy at an end. Miss Ratcliffe’s expression froze, her face a beautiful mask to offset her glittering eyes. She caught her full under lip between her teeth in an excess of impotent temper.
Lady Dewesbury closed her eyes briefly. She wished heartily for the horrible evening to be done with. It had been so trying, and matters certainly had not been aided by her mother’s several unfortunate observations. It was almost beyond Lady Dewesbury’s considerable capabilities as a hostess to continue on in the face of her guests’ determined ill will toward one another, but she made the effort.
“Aurelia, you have not told me how Princess Esterhazy’s ball came off. If you recall, I had already left London then,’’ she said brightly. With slowly gathering success, the countess engaged Lady Ratcliffe into conversation about the just-ended London Season. Miss Ratcliffe had a natural interest in the reminiscences, since many concerned her own social triumphs, and she abandoned her baiting of Miss Chadwick.
“Well, my dear? How are your spirits holding up?” asked Lady Cassandra, the shade of a smile on her face.
Joan gave a small laugh. “I survive, my lady.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
It was not many minutes later that Lord Ratcliffe came into the drawing room. He was alone and he shut the door behind him.
Lady Dewesbury’s gaze went from the closed door to Lord Ratcliffe’s face. A worried expression entered her eyes.
“Are not the earl and Lord Humphrey joining us?” asked Lady Cassandra.
Lord Ratcliffe shook his head in a thoughtful way. “I believe that Lord Dewesbury had something of import that he wished to convey to the viscount,” he said. As he finished speaking, raised voices began to be heard through the walls.
“Oh, no,” Lady Dewesbury said, faintly.
“Oh, yes,” snapped Lady Cassandra.
Lady Dewesbury wrung her hands. “I had hoped it would not come to this!”
“Pray do not be such a clunch, Charlotte. Of course it had to come!” Lady Cassandra snorted her contempt. She grasped Joan’s arm. “Help me up, girl. I’m going to my room. I’m of no mind to sit around with a bunch of huddling hens, straining to hear what I may. I’ll hear all about it on the morrow when it’s done with.”
In the resulting silence, Joan walked with Lady Cassandra to the door. Lady Cassandra opened it and shook off Joan’s hand as she called for a footman. She looked at Joan. “I shall now leave you to face the wolves alone, my dear. Good night!”
Joan had no choice but to return to the drawing room, where she was at once attacked by Miss Ratcliffe.
“It is all your fault. You have no business here at all.”
“Augusta.” Lord Ratcliffe’s warning tone was not attended, as Lady Ratcliffe also rounded on the interloper.
“Who are you, Miss Chadwick? I do not recall ever seeing you in London during the Season.” Lady Ratcliffe’s voice was not as blatantly hostile as her daughter’s, but nevertheless its cold undercurrent was just as antagonistic.
Joan returned to the settee and seated herself, folding her hands gracefully in her lap. “I am not surprised. I have never been up to London for the Season, Lady Ratcliffe,” she said quietly.
“Indeed! However then did you meet Lord Humphrey?” asked Lady Ratcliffe grimly.
“It was a chance meeting, my lady,” Joan said shortly, not liking her ladyship’s tone. She was beginning to be quite angered by the arrogance with which Lady Ratcliffe and her jealous daughter treated her.
Miss Ratcliffe trilled a pretty laugh. Her eyes were bright with anger. “Oh, that I am certain to be the truth. Come, Miss Chadwick. You cannot sit there and expect any of us to believe that you did not positively toil to bring yourself to the viscount’s attention.”
“That will be enough, Augusta,” Lord Ratcliffe said explosively.
Miss Ratcliffe tossed her head, but she was silenced.
Lady Ratcliffe started to open her lips. Lord Ratcliffe caught his wife’s eyes and held them by sheer force of will. “That will be quite enough all around.” Lady Ratcliffe sniffed resentfully, but she also subsided.
The drawing-room door opened. Lady Dewesbury jumped nearly out of her skin, but it was only the coffee and desserts being brought in.
“Hudgens,” she exclaimed with relief. She heard an enraged bellow emanating from the direction of the dining room and she paled.
At the butler’s soft query, she said, “No, that will be all. We can manage ourselves. Thank you!” She rose from her chair and hurried the butler out with a whispered command and urgent gestures. After shutting the door against the distant voices still raised in conflict, she returned to her chair. “Coffee, anyone?” she asked with determined hospitality. “Or perhaps a tart. Cook always turns out such superb pastries.”
Lady Ratcliffe rose abruptly. “Not for me tonight, Charlotte. I discover in myself a touch of indigestion. I shall retire now, I think.”
Miss Ratcliffe leapt to her feet. “I shall go with you, Mama.”
“That is probably best, pet,” said Lord Ratcliffe quietly.
Miss Ratcliffe rather pointedly ignored her father as she prepared to follow her mother. She threw a haughty look at Joan as she passed her.
“Oh! Well, I do hope that you will feel more the thing in the morning,” said Lady Dewesbury lamely.
She accompanied her friend toward the drawing-room door, not a word more being spoken between them. Miss Ratcliffe trailed them. Just as the ladies reached the door, it was flung open. They started back in surprise, until they saw that the viscount stood on the threshold. “My dear! How you startled us,” exclaimed Lady Dewesbury.
Lord Humphrey’s gray eyes glittered above his stony expression. His lean cheekbones were flushed and he was breathing rather quickly. “My pardon, ladies,” he said shortly. “Hudgens reminded me that I was neglecting my duties.”
“Your father?” faltered Lady Dewesbury. She looked quickly past her son’s shoulder to meet the glance of the hovering butler. Hudgens spread out his hands helplessly.
The viscount spoke through his teeth. “His lordship will not be disturbed from his port, my lady.”
Impervious to the viscount’s temper, Miss Ratcliffe smiled prettily and edged past her mother and Lady Dewesbury so as to be nearer his lordship. She placed her hand gently upon his sleeve. “I did not think that you would be coming in, Edward. I was about to go with Mother, but—”
Lord Humphrey stepped back, pushing the door wide. “Pray do not let me keep you then, Augusta.”
Miss Ratcliffe sucked in her breath. Her eyes flashed. “How dare you,” she whispered, trembling.
Lady Ratcliffe perceived the moment to be quite wrong for any recriminations to be lodged against the viscount. Lord Humphrey looked to be capable of saying anything and she knew her own daughter’s temper. She took hold of her daughter’s arm. “Come, darling. You must not let this unfortunate evening upset you. We are all of us rather testy. Lord Humphrey will be much more himself in the morning, I promise you.”
Lady Dewesbury threw a wild look up at her son’s face, torn between her familial duty and her duty as a proper hostess. “I shall walk up with you, Aurelia.”
“Pray do not bother, Charlotte. I am certain that Augusta and I am quite able to find our rooms,” said Lady Ratcliffe loftily.
Lady Dewesbury turned back into the drawing room. She saw that Miss Chadwick had retreated to the window and had drawn back the drape so that she could look out on the night. Lord Ratcliffe sat in a wing-back chair. He had served himself cof
fee and was meditatively sipping at the hot brew, the expression in his eyes distant.
The countess felt her son’s hand on her arm and she glanced up quickly. He still looked very angry, but there was regret, also, in his eyes. “I am sorry. Mama,” he said quietly.
“Are you, Edward? I am heartily glad to hear it,” she said with unusual bitterness. The viscount jerked as though he had been slapped and Lady Dewesbury hurried away from him. “John, I see that you have served yourself. Forgive me, I have been remiss in my duties. Miss Chadwick, would you like coffee or dessert?”
Joan turned away from the window, allowing the drape to fall back into place. “No, my lady, thank you,” she said quietly. “I rather think that I shall also retire. It has been a long day for me.”
“Of course, my dear. I hope that you sleep well,” said Lady Dewesbury courteously.
Joan murmured good night to Lord Ratcliffe and crossed the drawing room.
Lord Humphrey awaited her at the door. He detained her a moment with his hand. “Shall I walk up with you, Joan?” he said softly.
She shook her head swiftly. “No!’’ Realizing that she had been unpardonably abrupt, she drew her breath in slowly before she turned her expressive eyes full on him. Her gaze reflected her own perturbation over the events of the evening. “I think it would be best if you did not.”
The viscount’s mouth tightened. “Very well.”
He bowed her out of the drawing room and watched as she went swiftly up the stairs. He could not recall ever having had a worse evening in his life, and all of it was due to the young woman who was now racing away from him.
“Edward, you have not said one way or the other. Would you like coffee?”
Lord Humphrey turned his head. He regarded his mother’s anxious expression. Suddenly, wearily, he smiled. “Thank you, I would.” He let the drawing-room door swing closed behind him.
The viscount knew that his mother was anxious to know what had been said between himself and the earl, but he could not bring himself to speak of it. For one thing, Lord Ratcliffe was in the room, and even though his lordship was an intimate acquaintance of the family, the viscount felt extremely reluctant to air his differences with the earl before him. In addition, Lord Humphrey knew himself still too furious to swallow with patience his mother’s inevitable words of counsel. So, instead, he made the effort to appear as unaffected as possible and idle the time away with quiet conversation.
Lord Humphrey’s attitude was clue enough that he had no wish to discuss the subject. Lady Dewesbury was wise enough to accept for the moment her son’s wishes. She resigned herself to the desultory conversation, but she waited tensely for her husband’s appearance. Lord Dewesbury never came to the drawing room, however, an unusual breach of etiquette for the earl.
After coffee was finished and the two gentlemen had gone their separate ways for the evening, Lady Dewesbury inquired of Hudgens if he knew the earl’s whereabouts. She was informed that his lordship was still keeping company with his port. Lady Dewesbury nodded and quietly thanked the butler before she climbed the stairs to the first floor. She knew that it would be some time before the earl came upstairs. His lordship rarely drank himself silly; rather, brooding came easier to the earl when he held a wineglass between his fingers.
Lady Dewesbury went along the hall to her mother’s suite. She knocked and was immediately admitted by Lady Cassandra’s starched-up personal abigail. The abigail quietly left so that the ladies could be alone.
Chapter Seventeen
The countess saw that Lady Cassandra was settling herself comfortably, and not just for the night, but as though for a lengthy stay. The furniture had been rearranged to suit Lady Cassandra’s taste and there were a number of emptied trunks and portmanteaus on the floor.
That Lady Cassandra meant to remain for more than a day or two was in itself surprising. Lady Dewesbury knew quite well that despite her sincere efforts to make her mother’s visits as pleasant as possible, Lady Cassandra was never truly comfortable at Dewesbury Court. Lady Cassandra always hared off back to Blackhedge Manor, after imparting her usual pithy shot about cloying hospitality.
Lady Dewesbury did not question her ladyship about her plans, however. She knew better than to do that. In any event, the duration of Lady Cassandra’s visit was of minor importance to her at the moment. She had come to find out about Miss Chadwick. But naturally she would have to lead up gradually to her main interest.
“I came to be certain that you have everything you require, Mama,” said Lady Dewesbury.
“I require nothing, Charlotte, at least for the moment. I was about to enjoy my evening sherry,” said Lady Cassandra, gesturing at the tray on the bedside table. She was attired in her dressing gown and had on comfortable slippers. On her head was a muslin and lace sleeping cap.
She shot a penetrating glance at the countess. “I was disappointed not to have served to me at dinner any of those dishes that I am partial to. I hope that my cook has been given proper run of the kitchen?”
Lady Dewesbury sighed. Turmoil in the kitchen was one of the crosses she bore whenever Lady Cassandra chose to descend upon her well-ordered household. She had long since given up the attempt to persuade her mother that her own cook was just as able as Lady Cassandra’s. “Of course, Mama. Everything will be just as you wish it, as always. The cook will be able to see to those dishes that you particularly like and mine will allow him to do so.”
“You have very properly satisfied yourself as to my creature comforts. Is there anything else that you wish to discuss, daughter?” Lady Cassandra asked. She smiled when she saw the denial forming on her daughter’s lips. “Pray do not dissemble, Charlotte. I have always been able to discern when you have your mind fixed upon something.”
“Very well, Mama. Let us have plain speaking,” Lady Dewesbury said, feeling a prick of annoyance. Really, her mother had the most irritating habit of reducing her to the status of a child. “I wish to know about Miss Chadwick.”
Lady Cassandra pretended to yawn, but it was a smile that she hid behind her hand. She had had every expectation of this visit. It did faintly surprise her, however, that Lady Dewesbury had come to her so quickly. She had assumed that the countess would be occupied for some time in her efforts to smooth down the rift between the earl and Lord Humphrey. The strength of the countess’s familial instinct was one for which Lady Cassandra had always held a reluctant admiration, though at times it was of considerable annoyance to herself. “Miss Chadwick? Why, I believe she is a very worthy young woman. Is that what you wish to hear?”
Lady Dewesbury gestured impatiently. “You know very well what I mean, Mama. I wrote to you not a fortnight since of Edward’s fixed betrothal to Miss Ratcliffe.”
“Yes, a most worthy young lady,” murmured Lady Cassandra sardonically. “Miss Ratcliffe was most persistent in presenting herself as the rightful owner of my grandson’s allegiance. I am surprised that we were not treated to a genteel spasm in the course of things.”
Lady Dewesbury decided that she would let that provocation pass. She had not been behind in noticing that her mother had taken an instant dislike to Miss Ratcliffe, and really, it was no wonder when the girl had behaved as she had. She herself had resented Miss Ratcliffe’s attempts to bear-lead the viscount. She was about to say so when she caught herself up.
The countess was irritated that she had allowed her thoughts to be diverted by even so much as a hairbreadth. She had not sought out her mother to compare notes on Miss Ratcliffe, though she suspected that Lady Cassandra would enter into such an exercise both willingly and gleefully.
Lady Dewesbury said with dignity, “It was a nasty shock to read that brief, inexplicable notice in the Gazette that Edward had engaged himself to an entirely different young lady. Naturally I wish to learn all that I can about my son’s unknown inamorata, and I believe that you can enlighten me. She did arrive in your company, after all.”
Not for worlds would Lady Dewesbury ever
reveal that she had actually heard Lady Cassandra’s name from Miss Chadwick’s own lips. She could make a shrewd guess how Lady Cassandra would react to that, though. She thought with another flash of irritation, she did not know how her mother could make judgmental statements when her ladyship was herself a meddlesome incorrigible.
“I can actually tell you very little, not being intimately acquainted with the girl or her family. I know of her father, of course. He was the vicar of a neighboring parish and, as I have heard, a very good man,” said Lady Cassandra.
“A vicar,” repeated Lady Dewesbury blankly. Miss Chadwick was the daughter of a vicar. Without noticing that she had done so, she sat down weakly in the wing-back chair that had been situated in front of the fire.
Lady Cassandra did notice, and her brows rose, but she did not bring the matter to her daughter’s attention. It was a measure of the countess’s obvious dismay that she should so forget herself as to take Lady Cassandra’s own seat.
Lady Cassandra settled herself gingerly on the edge of the bed. “Yes. A rather learned man, actually. As I understand it, Reverend Chadwick published a small number of very well-received treatises. It is quite possible that I may even have a copy or two in my own collection at Blackhedge.”
Lady Dewesbury felt gray depression gathering about her with every word. “Miss Chadwick comes of decent family, then.”
“If you are fishing about for some hint of a vulgar past, you may put away your line, Charlotte,” Lady Cassandra said roundly. “When I met her in my grandson’s company, I naturally wondered the same. But since then I have had occasion to speak with the girl at some length on a great number of topics. I can say truthfully that Miss Chadwick is everything that she appears to be: educated, genteel, and possessing of no vices that I could discover. A rather dull girl, by my standards.”
Lady Dewesbury sighed. It was all much as she had begun to suspect and to fear. She glanced up at her mother. “Do you happen to know how Miss Chadwick chanced to meet Edward?”
