“Dearest, never fear.” He covered his wife’s clasped hand with his own. “Believe me, all children delight in such antics. Is that not so, Mrs. Cavanaugh?”
“It is very lowering to believe such a thing, but you have the right of it, Sir Benjamin. The children will relish the idea of facing great danger,” Penny admitted, rather reluctantly, it seemed. “The idea, mind you. They truly have no wish to face any genuine peril.”
“They have spent far too much time in the city. I must confess Lucy and Davy are finding even the most mundane country chore appealing.” David did his utmost to prevent his frustration with his guest to affect his behavior. “We ventured out to collect berries just last week. The wild berry patch was where we first ran into your Clemmy, Sylvie, and Miss Lemmon, if you will recall.”
“Ah, yes,” Sir Benjamin uttered as if he understood all and could fully commiserate with David. “More’s the pity there were no berries to be found. One would imagine to find a profusion of berries in the middle of summer since we live in Britain’s most temperate region.”
“The temperate region?” David repeated to himself in disbelief and was rather glad he’d been seated lest the shock of hearing it caused him to grow weak at the knees. They hardly lived in Italy! He did not wish to be rude and hoped his effort at maintaining a placid composure was convincing.
The man was a bit of a quiz, wasn’t he?
“Why do we not have some music?” Penny interjected in the strangest manner. Ah, she had not been fooled by David’s façade, and she understood his frustration.
“Excellent idea!” David shot to his feet and rubbed his hands, glad that he, that they all, would be spared further lectures.
Penny, escorted by Sir Benjamin, was the first to exit. David, with Lady Pelfry and Miss Lemmon on each arm, followed down the corridor to the small parlor.
A fire crackled in the hearth, welcoming the guests into the cozy, warm room. Candles, from Sir Benjamin’s bees, no doubt, illuminated the corners and the normally dim areas about the room.
“What will you play for us, my dear?” David directed at Penny. He had no doubt that a woman of her character and upbringing would be proficient at the pianoforte in addition to possessing other accomplishments.
“Me?” Penny, whom David considered a most capable lady, faced him, wide-eyed and behaving a bit bewildered. “I cannot, sir, really. I simply cannot.”
“Oh, come now, do not be so modest,” David encouraged her.
“It is not modesty’s sake, I can assure you. I have not practiced in quite some time. It would be quite the humiliation to play before an audience.”
“Belle will be more than happy to play for us, won’t you, my dear?” Lady Pelfry intervened. “This will be a good opportunity to learn what is expected when she attends the Season.”
“A very good observation, my lady.” Sir Benjamin—awakened from his contemplation of British climate changes throughout the seasons or his bee and truffle fantasies, a carryover from the dinner table, or deliberation of pit versus seed fruits—was of the same opinion as his wife. “When will she have another occasion to play before an audience?”
“Very well. I shall play if that is what you wish.” Miss Lemmon rose from her chair and moved to the pianoforte. “I must warn those of you who have not heard me play. I am a competent but not very gifted performer.”
“One does not always play to display one’s ability but to show a willingness to do what is expected.” Penny directed her comment to Miss Lemmon. “It is rare that a young lady has not some musical talent, which a potential suitor might admire.”
Miss Lemmon cast her gaze downward with a flattering blush rising in her cheeks and, it seemed, had mastered the ability to appear demure. She did so quite convincingly.
Very fetching, indeed.
“I completely understand, ma’am,” she replied, looking quite extraordinary, peeking toward them through her long lashes.
The two couples seated themselves to enjoy the performance. Miss Lemmon sat at the keyboard, taking a few moments to allow the color in her face to fade, compose herself, and decide upon a musical piece. She raised her hands to the keyboard and began to play.
It was a piece not completely unfamiliar to David, yet he could not name it. He was fairly certain he had heard it before. Miss Lemmon was, as she stated earlier, a competent musician, but it did not appear to him that she was an exceptional performer.
The rendition lacked fluidity and, David wanted to say, expression. She merely played the composition as written: every note, every rest, and every measure, nothing more and nothing less.
Then David chastised himself for being a harsh critic.
The piece ended and Lady Pelfry was the first to applaud. “Excellent, Belle!”
“Brava!” Sir Benjamin called out.
Penny praised her with an encouraging, “Well done, Miss Lemmon.”
David stood and moved toward the pianoforte. “I am certainly not eligible parti, but if I were in the petticoat line, I would be the first in line to volunteer to turn the pages of your sheet music.”
A sharp intake of breath told him he had shocked her. Oh, she must become used to a bit of attention from males if she were not to come across as such a green girl. David could certainly help her in that quarter. He would be happy to spend some of his plethora of idle time with her.
“I have recently discovered that I am quite adept at sketching shades,” he said quietly.
“Oh?” Miss Lemmon straightened and avoided looking directly at him.
“I will draw yours if you like,” he offered. David meant the gesture to aid her further with spending time with males before the approaching Season.
“I . . .” Her gaze moved past him to her sister, across the room. “I think . . .”
“I believe it is time for us to return to Manfred Place,” Lady Pelfry announced.
“As you like, my dear.” Sir Benjamin stood, offering his hand to his wife, who did not quite push it aside but ignored it.
Everyone moved very quickly all of a sudden, standing and progressing to exit. Miss Lemmon had scuttled to her sister’s side, and they slipped out of the room before he could bid either of them farewell. David did not quite understand what had happened. Sir Benjamin lingered for a bit. He bowed to Penny, thanking her for her hospitality, and then he inclined his head to David before following his family.
David thought their guests’ departure was the oddest thing. “What do you suppose prompted that?” The answer to his question was silence. “Do you not think their behavior a bit peculiar?” And when there still was no reply he faced her to ask, “Is there something amiss?” Penny glared at him with such intensity. If a gaze were lethal he would be prostrate on the carpet on which he stood.
“‘Is something amiss,’ you ask?” Penny replied, incredulous, as if the reason for their abrupt departure were obvious.
It was far from that to David.
“Do you not know what your actions have caused?” She did not raise her voice. Instead her words were sharp, edged with disturbing calm.
“My actions?” To what was she referring? What possible misstep had he taken? “Are you suggesting that I have done something improper, ma’am?”
A moment or two passed in silence where he replayed the last few minutes before the Pelfry party’s departure, the last quarter of an hour, then the last half hour before reverting to the time since they all had entered the small parlor.
“Indeed, I have behaved with the utmost propriety toward you, ma’am.” From what David could recall. He felt certain of this. “I do not believe I have offended either you or any of the ladies this evening.”
“Really? Did you think we could not hear you? Your offer to sketch her was made not only before me but with your grandmother lying in bed abovestairs. Her family, sitting in the same room, could n
ot help but overhear.”
David had not considered. One could construe it was his way of paying Miss Lemmon some particular interest. He had not thought of it exactly in that manner.
“Do you realize in their eyes you are a married man making such a proposal to a single young woman?” Again the chilling, quiet delivery from Penny. “I believe you quite shocked her.”
“That’s not exactly flirting . . .” How could Penny think anything havey-cavey would go on between him and Miss Lemmon?
“Do you not realize the intimacy you suggest?” Penny’s restrained scold faded and was soon renewed by a stern, severe rebuke. “It was a wholly inappropriate action.”
“Was it?” No young miss in Town would take such offence. However, David could tell by Penny’s manner that he had crossed the line, some line—a line of good taste, perhaps? She was clearly not pleased with him. Best he make a note of this and not do it again. “I am sorry.” David hoped his sincerity came through. “Should I apologize to Miss Lemmon? To her family?”
“I am certain you will not have the opportunity to do so.” Penny closed her eyes and tilted her chin a fraction upward as if steeling herself to relay some unpleasant news. “I do not expect any of us shall see them for some time.”
“Really?” David thought that highly improbable. They lived in the neighboring property. Miss Lemmon visited several times a week and read to Gran. Sir Benjamin, as low of an opinion as David had of him, sent remedies or household items nearly every day. Would all that truly come to an end?
“They will find some excuse or other to avoid the Willows after this evening.”
“Mrs.—” David stopped there and took a moment to compose himself. He stepped closer to Penny so he could lower the volume of his voice to match hers. “Are you telling me that because of my—offer to Miss Lemmon—that she, that her family would . . . No, I highly doubt that.” Much head shaking went on, displaying his disbelief. “But they have been great friends to Gran. How could this—” He gestured to the pianoforte; he meant the action of speaking to Miss Lemmon while she sat at the keyboard. “If what you say is true, how will we—I explain this to her?”
“After a certain amount of time has passed, whatever the Pelfrys deem adequate, they will approach your grandmother to mend the rift between the families. They seem to care for her a great deal. I’m certain once you—we vacate the Willows and return to Town, relations between them will resume.”
“If I leave, will not Gran’s health once again decline?” He had meant to say the next to himself. Oddly enough, he heard the words spoken out loud. “Yet, if I do not remove myself from the premises, Miss Lemmon and the Pelfrys may refuse to visit her bedside.”
“Does it matter to you who remains to visit your grandmother?”
“What do you mean? If it has to do with Gran, of course it matters!”
“Has it escaped your notice? Now that your grandmother is recovering, you have no interest in maintaining your family? Are they so easily discarded since, it seems, you have no further need of them?”
What a load of rubbish.
“May I remind you it was a mere fortnight ago you were on your knees, begging me to portray your wife.” Penny narrowed her eyes, stressing, “Begged, sir.”
David recalled it well enough. Yes, he had done exactly that. But what was she going on about?
“Do you not realize how much you jeopardize your own plan?” Penny reprimanded. “If your grandmother should see this type of display, she would not see you as the grandson who loves his family. She would know you for the cad you are.”
“A cad? You could not be further from the truth, ma’am.” David could not imagine what had brought about this burst of temper. “Oh, I hardly think that—”
“I may not be married to you,” Penny said with venom, “but I assure you I shall have a word with Caroline Wilberforce Cavanaugh. I do believe she will have a great deal to say on the subject.”
“Neither is she my wife,” David replied.
“There you are mistaken, Mr. Cavanaugh.” Penny rounded upon him before taking her leave. “While you are in residence at the Willows, she is very much your wife.” She stopped at the doorway. “If your grandmother happens to witness any of your questionable behavior, it may be the death of her. Are you prepared to pay that price, sir?” Then Penny left.
David merely stood there speechless.
Chapter Sixteen
Penny hardly slept at all that night. She rose much earlier than normal to vacate her bedchamber. She, above all, wished to avoid David Cavanaugh’s morning birdsong ritual which, as far as she knew, occurred at the beginning of each and every day.
Removing to the breakfast room, she poured herself a cup of coffee and planned to find quiet in the small parlor. She rounded the corridor just in time to miss David, whom she heard descending the staircase. She wasn’t aware, until then, how much she dreaded seeing him. His booted feet sounded loudly on the floor. He was on his way out of the house, she was certain.
To remove any chance of meeting, Penny would return to her bedchamber. With her coffee cup and saucer in hand, she climbed the stairs, and once inside her rooms, she closed the door behind her.
Why had she felt so strongly against facing him? Was she ashamed of her outburst last night? Penny set her coffee upon her dressing table and gave it some thought. No. His actions had stepped across the line of decency. She had every right to chastise him for his behavior.
There was, however, something else that bothered her. She would never admit this to another living soul and had, in truth, had difficulty accepting the notion herself. She had formed an attachment to him.
No. She shook her head, wishing it were not so.
Penny had no right, she knew that. How could she have thought him in any way agreeable? Although she had never heard of him living a life of vice in London, Frances had cautioned her regarding his charming manner. Had this been what she meant?
Charming, indeed. What a rascal.
The flirtatious overtures toward Miss Lemmon and the crafting of a family history for his grandmother were not actions easily overlooked. On occasion, when David had interacted with her, especially when not in company with or observed by others, his demeanor was refreshing, direct, and, at times, playful. What she found most attractive about him was his kinder, thoughtful side, displaying a devoted, loving grandson who would do what he could for his last blood relative. Surely that action redeemed his character somewhat.
Could Penny forgive him? Would she forgive him? She had no idea. Her gaze moved to the top of the dresser, where she had placed the sketch David had made of her. She retrieved it from its hiding place and gazed upon the somewhat familiar outline. Even with her cap removed, the enhancement of imaginary curls, and the inclusion of a dimple no one could see, Penny conceded it was she. Presently she was moody, petulant, and, dare she admit it, jealous?
Of a man who was not her husband? A man who had no interest in her? A man who had used her badly? Penny’s lower lip began to tremble, and she tightened her mouth, hoping to keep her unsteady emotions in check.
She closed her eyes and wondered how she could have been so foolish. Penny had never behaved in such an immature manner, even when she was a very young girl just out of the schoolroom. At that time, many years ago, she did not have the luxury of forming an attachment.
Her marriage to Mr. Parker had been arranged by her parents. Being a friend of her father’s, he was much older than Penny. Mr. Parker had always been kind to her, and they shared a mutual civility during their short union. He was nothing more than her guardian and passed soon after both her parents.
Penny’s gaze fell to the sketch again. Was it possible she could hold David in such esteem? Because, a small voice said inside her, you know deep within this man exists an extreme devotion to his family despite his outward ill-mannered behavior. And such
a devotion meant quite a lot to her. Was it enough?
Penny heard quick, staccato steps approach, those of Mrs. Sutton perhaps, followed by a knock.
“Enter,” Penny replied, lowering the sketch she held.
The door opened. Mrs. Sutton stood in the portal, straight and very serious. “Dr. Harding has just arrived,” she announced, barely stepping into the room. “He will be coming up to see Madam straightaway.”
“Has Mr. Cavanaugh been told?” Penny experienced a jumble of emotions at the thought of coming face-to-face with David, but she had no difficulty dismissing the impending discomfort that would follow at their meeting.
“But, ma’am.” Mrs. Sutton appeared somewhat perplexed. “Master David has departed with the children. Surely you must have known . . .”
“Of course, their journey to Beacon Hill.” He had spoken of it just last night, Penny remembered, and this morning she had quite forgotten. “I shall attend at once.” She acknowledged with a nod, and the companion departed.
All that truly mattered was Grandmother Cavanaugh’s well-being. Giving the sketch a last glance, Penny decided what she felt was irrelevant. Without hesitation she folded the paper she held in half, and in half again, before tossing it into the hearth, where the flames wasted no time consuming it, and then she left.
David and his party departed the house at what he considered early that morning. Taking the lead of the expedition along the once well-defined path, he thought it was most fortunate he had planned the trip with the children. And he had the oddest notion it might be best if he were to keep his distance from Penny.
Pulling his hat snug onto his head, David thought back to how vexed she had been last night. There was no need to start off today with daggers drawn. Perhaps her temper would have cooled by the time he returned this afternoon. Yes, he thought that a distinct possibility.
Perhaps the whole thing would have blown over by then!
An Elaborate Hoax (A Gentlemen of Worth Book 5) Page 17
