"Oh you are very alike. Do not glare at me, Hugh, I mind you told me not to stare. Surely it is not unknown for such similarity between cousins though." She surveyed Torgreave until he lifted his black brows repressively. Then she clapped her hands.
"I recall you doing that very thing, the first time we met. I would not expect you to remember. You visited us in the country. You and Hugh were sent down from Oxford. I was a scrubby schoolroom child, and you the most handsome young man I had ever seen. I followed you around 'til you put up your brows, and told me to take myself off."
They all laughed but for Morag Lochmaddy. She had settled in a corner chair with her knitting.
The gentlemen prepared to depart to the library.
Miss Taunton chattered on as the ladies were seated. "You do look much older now though, Torgreave. Your wicked life, I expect, has marked you. It has not taken Hugh quite the same way."
"Aurora!" said her brother in threatening tones.
"Oh go away," she responded. "I shan't be indiscreet, or impolite. Miss Tyninghame and I will deal famously."
With a smile turning her lips, Delia agreed, and it did prove to be so. Miss Taunton had an interest in needlework and music, though she confessed to a disinterest in literature. She possessed a substantial fascination with society. She chattered happily, and Delia listened, occasionally interpolating a gay word or quiet idea.
Their guests stayed for more than an hour that afternoon. Delia was in high good humour that evening at supper and after. She and Morag left the gentlemen to their port following the meal. It was not long before the earl and his brother joined them in the drawing room.
"You missed the visit of Miss Aurora Taunton this afternoon," Delia informed Charles. "She is most delightful. We have agreed that we must enjoy further engagements. I realize how I have missed congenial female company. Had you a pleasant call upon Miss Slimbridge?"
"I did. Though she is much taken up with the approaching Season. But what was Miss Taunton like? Can she be as rattle-pated as her brother? I often thought Mr. Hugh Taunton a bad influence on Rupert."
"Good God, are you ambitious for a bishopric, Charles?" exclaimed the earl. "You sound fifty years old and priggish to boot."
Delia frowned at him and answered the rector. "I found her quite charming. She is full of liveliness and wit, not unmixed with wisdom. Strangely enough her mama's opinion is quite the opposite of yours. She fears Rupert a bad influence on Hugh."
"Hugh has no need of a bad influence. He has enough natural wickedness," Torgreave offered over his shoulder. He was staring out into the darkened street." Did it seem to either of you that the weather changed this afternoon?"
His companions blinked at the sudden turn of the subject.
"Possibly. It was warmer, of that I am certain," Charles volunteered.
"Now that I think on it, I can hear a dripping." Delia held up a slim hand for silence. Beyond the crackling of the fire could be heard the small steady sound. "If the thaw has begun, I would suggest we take the road for Edinburgh soon. I agree with you that answers which are not to be found here may come to us there."
Mrs. Lochmaddy was heard to mutter, "We have delayed our return long enough."
"I think it a wise decision. Especially as Aurora Taunton will be spreading word of our likeness around the ton." The earl ignored the companion's interpolation. "Charles, you will of course be welcome to remain here."
"I had forgot your intention," said his brother. "Can you wish to travel to Edinburgh, now that Manningford is returned to your possession?"
"I consider that the solution of this mystery is of greater moment than my return home. Delia and I must regain some peace of mind." He directed a slow intimate smile at Delia.
She returned it, loath to end or analyze it.
"Besides," Torgreave continued without turning his dark head away from Delia. "When you return to Manningford I have instructed that Mrs. Inniskip and such of the staff here as she wishes, are to travel with you. They will begin to set the house in order for me. This house will be closed. I shall return from Edinburgh to Manningford, not London. Have you seen Prym in the recent past?" He referred to his elderly butler who had remained at the Tower.
"I have. He attends at services regularly. He served Sir Thomas well, but will, I know, be glad of your return."
"Good! He and Mrs. Inniskip may work together again. A formidable team," Rupert said to Delia with another of those intimate smiles.
Charles appeared to be deep in reflection.
"I think," he announced, "that when you depart for Edinburgh, I shall return to Manningford. Susannah -- Miss Slimbridge -- shall have her Season. I would not begrudge it her. But my curate must not be left indefinitely to shift for himself."
Accordingly three days later, in the midst of a tremendous thaw, the Mayfair house was shuttered. The furniture was placed in holland covers as its occupants prepared to depart.
Major Rhyle arrived in Grosvenor Street to protest their removal even as they were on the doorstep.
"Rupert, you must not leave London at this present. Louis Philippe is due any day -- ."
"I must go," contradicted the earl. "I have now a family which requires my attentions, more than Prinny. I thought he understood that."
Delia and Charles watched this altercation with undisguised curiosity. Bowland and Morag Lochmaddy retired to the coach with hot bricks and fur rugs.
"He might well understand, but his own security means more to him."
"He may go to the devil!" Rupert strode to the waiting coach.
"I will tell him that, shall I?" queried the major. "Did he promise not to reveal your part in our efforts?"
"No." The earl paused in his consideration of the interior of the coach. He broke off directing Bowland, to regard Rhyle.
"Then you may expect that if you will not support him with your presence, he will use your reputation to bolster his."
"If I had my way, I'd never return to London, so it would not matter. Be damned to it all!" Rupert challenged his friend with a cold stare.
"Don't glare at me," the major said. "That icy gaze may intimidate most men, but I remain your friend. And in your position I would do the same. But if Prinny does reveal your involvement, it will be no more than you deserve. You have earned recognition and gratitude."
Rupert relented, and unexpectedly grinned. "You are most assuredly my friend. You are welcome at Manningford anytime, and I thank you. And I wish you will be silent on my dubious virtues."
The major barked a laugh. He stood aside for Bowland to swing up beside the coachman. Then he returned to the steps and offered Delia his massive arm.
"Miss Tyninghame, I hope we may see you again in London?" He seemed to dismiss his mission from his mind, and transferred his attentions.
"I hardly know. It will depend upon what we discover."
"Your return will be anticipated," he said. He bowed over her slim, gloved fingers, before handing her into the coach. The two tall men shook hands. The earl mounted into the coach also and Charles mounted his horse.
The Scots coachman, Cullen, gave the eager horses the office to start. Major Rhyle lifted a large hand in farewell as Delia waved from the window.
"The roads are bound to be difficult," the earl commented. He settled next to Delia with Morag Lochmaddy facing them, her back to the horses. "Charles shall do better mounted, than shall we."
The young rector was visible in the crowded street outside, as they threaded their way out of London.
"You will wish for your horse," Delia commented. She drew the fur robe over her knees.
"I shall be content in your company," he said. There was no flattery about his statement, but honesty in his direct gaze.
She felt the heat rising in her cheeks and avoided Mrs. Lochmaddy's eyes.
"Why was the major so concerned with your departure?" Her curiosity required that the question be asked.
He was silent for several moments. "I suppose I am t
he Prince Regent's friend. He is not presently popular. He wishes to have all the support he can find during the next months as the Allied monarchs gather here."
Delia was not convinced that the matter was explained. "And what of the talk of your reputation and the gratitude you deserve."
"Gideon was babbling nonsense," he snapped. "You know my reputation. Do you think anyone owes me gratitude?"
She was confused by his evasiveness, but felt it best to let the matter alone. "It is a long journey," she commented in her confusion.
"I have taken precautions," he said with a laugh. "The box by your feet is filled with books. That," he pointed to a small mahogany box on the seat beside Mrs. Lochmaddy, "is a traveling chess board. And this," he drew a handsomely inlaid case from beneath the chess set, "is for you." The contretemps was quickly forgotten.
"I should not..." Delia hesitated over the gift, uncomfortably aware of Morag's presence.
The earl seemed indifferent to it. "Come, I am certainly family of some degree. It cannot be thought improper, though I should be the last to care if it was," he added with wry humour. "You are a devoted correspondent of many. You have Miss Taunton and Lady Slimbridge to add to your list. I noted you had no writing case. I thought you must have that deficiency remedied."
Delia lifted the lid to discover the lack well satisfied. The case was fitted with everything she could require to fulfill her correspondence -- inkpots and quills, wafers and sand, even the finest of papers, in two sizes. The whole was crafted with taste and elegance, and lined with silk the colour of her wide eyes.
"From Mr. Asprey's?" she hazarded, meeting his gaze.
"You remember we saw them there in the window. It was the day we purchased your furs."
"I do," she confirmed. She realized with a pang that there was nothing of their days together that she had forgot. "Thank you," she whispered. "I shall treasure it." Something fragile shimmered in the air between them. A sudden lurch of the coach destroyed the moment.
"The roads are terrible," Mrs. Lochmady confirmed, as they gained the open countryside.
It was a long journey. The first two days were pleasurably broken up by Charles' presence. But when he left them at Stamford, Delia could not find herself sorry. Indeed, she once found herself wishing he had taken Morag Lochmaddy with him. She quickly squelched the immodest desire.
The time passed more quickly than on her journey south. The earl was an amusing, erudite companion. As she watched his finely modeled, mobile face while he read to her one day, she recognized that he had changed since she had come to know him. He appeared less weary, and he ate well. Many of the deep lines that had seemed carved in his face, had smoothed. A few had disappeared. He laughed more often, and seemed less burdened. He spoke more freely of the past, and with anticipation of seeing Edinburgh.
He also appeared undisturbed by their destination growing ever closer. Delia found herself increasingly torn between apprehension, expectation and anxiety. There was little snow remaining, though it had apparently been widespread. The roads had been left in a fearfully muddy state, which slowed their journey abominably. Lady Barbara's fine coach was sadly dirtied.
"What have you told your lady aunt of me?" Torgreave asked the last day but one before they reached Edinburgh.
Morag Lochmaddy, who seemed to have dozed for most of the five days, straightened.
"Little enough," Delia admitted.
He shifted in his seat, she thought to better survey her face. His knee pressed hers. She did not withdraw, but found she welcomed the reassuring contact.
"I could find no words to explain our similarity. I felt she must see it to understand. I warned her that there were extraordinary reasons for my early return, and that you would be with me. That is all."
"I see," he mused.
"You seem...you are less worried than when we were in London," she ventured.
"Am I? Yes, perhaps you are right." The earl shrugged. "No one will know me in Edinburgh. I find anonymity a delightful prospect. I may walk abroad unknown and explore your fine city. If a gentleman or lady on the street thinks my face familiar in passing, he or she will be hard put to think why. If they, having remembered whom I resemble, question you, you may disclaim all knowledge. Like you in London, I will not enter society. But if absolutely necessary, I will be introduced as your cousin, Rupert Manning." He took her hand. "You are beset with worry. Will you tell me why?"
She was not proof to the intimacy of his tone, but she was uncomfortably aware of Morag's presence. "I...oh I cannot say. I just fear what we may eventually discover. I have already learned my dear father was probably not my own. I wonder what I shall hear about my mother. I wonder what my aunt will think, and what she will disclose."
"I could wish this had not occurred. I deeply regret that you are caused pain. But I cannot wish that we should not have met."
Delia found that she was gripping his gloved hand. She met Mrs. Lochmaddy's disapproving gaze. She stared back defiantly, and left her slim fingers in his reassuring hold.
***
A day later they arrived in Edinburgh.
Torgreave was immediately fascinated by the city. He did not conceal his interest, but questioned Delia relentlessly. Those questions that she could not answer were addressed to the guidebook of Edinburgh that he had included in his box of books. His interest was unfeigned, but he hoped also to distract Delia from her apprehension. He was certain she felt a different person than the carefree young woman who had departed two months before.
As they rounded Calton Hill, she stated that her anxiety outweighed her pleasure in arriving at home. "Home is no longer a welcome sight," she mourned.
Rupert could do little to comfort her under the stern gaze of Mrs. Lochmaddy. He tensed as the carriage rolled down Princes Street, negotiated two turns and entered Charlotte Square. It drew to a stop. His relief at the completion of the journey was tempered with uneasiness about the introductions to take place.
Rupert swung out of the coach, surveying the Castle looming on the rock above.
Bowland jumped down from the coachman's seat. "'Tis a fine city, my lord," the valet exclaimed. He gestured at the ridge in the south rising to the east and west. "I can scarce credit it."
"Did you think them all 'devils in skirts', man, living in blackhouses?" Torgreave queried. "I've a notion they are more civilized than we in London."
The valet looked shocked as well as disbelieving. He said nothing, but hurried to help the footman who trod across the paving to take down the trunks.
Torgreave turned back to hand Delia down the carriage step. She lifted worried sapphirine eyes to his face. He could only smile.
Their arrival was anti-climatic. Lady Barbara Lochearn was from home. As she could not know the exact day of their arrival, she had gone to dine with friends.
Confronted by Lady Barbara's butler and housekeeper, Rupert stood close by Delia in support. He felt her tension ease as she received the news of her aunt's absence. She was warmly welcomed by her aunt's staff. They showed a little shock at the sight of his face's similarity to Delia's, and he sensed their uncertain reserve. Morag Lochmaddy hurried away, bearing Bowland with her. The housekeeper took efficient charge of their trunks and wraps.
The butler -- Delia introduced him as Kilsyth -- was waiting to guide them upstairs to the drawing room. As they followed him Rupert twined Delia's arm with his. He clasped her hand where it rested on his superfine sleeve. Kilsyth opened a door and when they had passed through, he closed it after them.
"This is a strange homecoming for you," Rupert bent his head to murmur. Delia shook her head wordlessly and stepped away from him, gazing eagerly about her. He did likewise. It was a handsome, comfortable room. A tambour frame stood in the corner, a sketchbook lay on the centre table, and a well-polished pianoforte stood open. He looked back to Delia in time to see her composure abruptly crumble.
Tears streamed down her face. Rupert's response was spontaneous. He drew her i
nto his arms. He enfolded her tenderly, and his right hand stroked her silky black curls. She sobbed on his chest soaking the fine silk damask of his waistcoat until at last her tears were used up. Only then did she seem to realize her position. She withdrew from his embrace, her cheeks flaming. He did not readily release her.
"I cannot think what possessed me!" she exclaimed in mortification. He offered his snowy handkerchief and she dried her tear-wet face.
"I can," he assured her. "You have been on a fine edge of tension for weeks. You are now at home. It is not surprising that emotion should overwhelm you. And it is not unlawful for even a brother and sister to embrace," he stated. He was intensely aware of unbrotherly sensations surging through him.
"I did not mean...I mean I am not usually a wateringpot. It is just...just..."
"Seeing me here in your home, makes it seem less a dream and more a nightmare?" he suggested.
"Something of the sort," she admitted with a hiccough.
He smiled with tenderness at the homely sound. "I shall retire," he announced. He strode to the window, and surveyed the quiet square as dusk settled. "Will you ring for a footman to guide me? I will take a tray in my chamber for supper. You will wish to reacquaint yourself with your home, and you may find it more comfortable to greet your aunt alone."
"It is not necessary," she protested, holding out her hand to him. He did not see it as he continued to stare out the window.
"I think it is. You are weary," he insisted. "If you have need of me, you have only to request my attendance."
He did not leave the window until the footman came. Then he bowed formally over her hand, and did not meet her eyes as he wished her goodnight.
***
In the end, Delia retired also before her aunt returned home. Weary, and distressed over her collapse into Rupert's arms, she sought solace in her own dear, familiar chamber. It was comforting to be at home, surrounded by familiar faces and well-loved possessions. Nevertheless Torgreave's presence overshadowed every other thought and emotion. She worried herself into sleep, and if her dreams were inappropriate, she did not remember them the next morning.
The Rake's Reflection Page 11
