‘We have almost an acre of ground at the back, surely that’s enough for you to walk around in and imagine yourself at home?’
‘It is not the same, Miss Ellison. The air is not so fresh here, it is full of smoke and noxious fumes.’
Sarah smiled. ‘Admittedly in the East End, the part we are traversing at the moment, the streets are grey and dismal, the populous unkempt. But where we live, things are quite different. We have wide thoroughfares, and the only smell is from the dung left behind by the horses.’
‘Miss Ellison! How indelicate! I have no wish to hear about such things.’ The girls laughed and their former governess joined in.
On arrival at their destination Sarah was pleased to see Foster, his white gloves pristine, his tailcoat immaculate, waiting at the head of the steps to bow them in. ‘Any problems, Foster?’
He shook his head. ‘None at all, Miss Ellison. The house was as it should be, you’d not think it has been unoccupied for three years. We’ve had the fires alight since yesterday, the house is warm and the larder is well stocked. Cook is preparing a delicious repast even as I speak.’
‘I am delighted to hear you say so. And our baggage arrived safely this morning, I hope?’
‘Indeed it did, Miss Ellison. Lady Isabelle is in residence and is awaiting you in the large drawing room.’
In normal circumstances Sarah would announce their arrival in Town by sending cards to all the families they were connected with, but this time she was determined to remain invisible. Although the house was open, she had no intention of parading up and down the street, or of receiving visitors or leaving cards. As far as Lord Atherton was concerned, and his lawyers, they were visiting friends in Edinburgh.
Her lips twitched at the thought of him galloping up to Scotland in search of them. It would serve him right; she was not used to being threatened and had no intention of obeying his rude demands however displeased he might be at her refusal.
By the time they were settled, and had eaten the high tea Cook had prepared specially for them, it was dark, and the shutters were closed and the window drapes pulled. On the streets it would have been hard to tell that anyone was in residence.
Sarah had taken Foster into her confidence, and he would make sure that none of the servants mentioned anything when they went out. She knew information spread through staff working at big houses quicker than it did through the families who lived there.
They had been happily established in London for over a week and Sarah no longer looked anxiously to see if there was a letter from Lord Atherton or his lawyers. Her ruse had been successful, she was free of the wretched man and could continue to live her life as she pleased, taking care of Jane and Miss Read and organizing her household.
Tucked away as they were in Shepherds Mews, off Park Street, Sarah was convinced nobody would know they were in residence. It was unlikely indeed that any of her acquaintances would wander past for the road led only to the livery stables.
She decided it was high time they started enjoying the sights. She would take Jane out to view the ravens and the menagerie at the Tower of London. Neither Aunt Isabelle nor Miss Read wished to accompany them, but assured her it was perfectly in order for two young women, accompanied by their abigails and a footman, to visit alone.
‘The carriage is outside, Jane. Although the weather is quite mild today it would not do to keep the horses waiting. If you have changed your mind about accompanying me, then please say so and I shall go on my own.’
Sarah was ready, dressed in a fashionable walking dress of leaf green, with matching pelisse and bonnet trimmed with egret feathers. She tapped her foot as she watched her sister adjusting the hang of her lemon yellow gown.
‘Of course I’m coming, but I have a slight headache, and was allowing my breakfast to settle before being jolted over the cobbles in the carriage. I have no wish to develop one of my megrims.’
Sarah laughed. ‘I shall take a receptacle with us, just in case you wish to cast up your accounts on the journey.’ The girls ran downstairs, Sarah slightly in front, Jane behind and both laughing at her disgusting suggestion. As they reached the hall there was a thunderous knocking on the front door and Sarah skidded to a halt so suddenly Jane cannoned into her.
The marble tiles in the hall were slippery and like ice skaters with little skill and too much speed they twirled about before sliding ignominiously to the floor in a heap of arms, legs and reticules. The young man, a newly appointed footman, didn’t have the common sense to ignore the door and assist his mistresses to their feet. The door swung open and a veritable giant, in many caped driving coat, a beaver rammed on his thick dark hair, erupted into the entrance hall.
‘What in tarnation! Good God, I have come to a madhouse.’ His barked exclamation echoed round the spacious vestibule. By this time Foster, accompanied by another footman, had appeared and Sarah was grateful to have the elderly gentleman’s bulk between herself and the fulminating glare of the man who could only be Lord Atherton.
She could feel Jane’s hands shaking and looked down fearing her sister was as nervous as she. To her horror she realised Jane had succumbed to a fit of uncontrollable giggles. This happened occasionally and she knew, to her cost, that nothing would stop them - they had to run their course. ‘Jane, please desist, it is Atherton. Try and pull yourself together. He will think we are laughing at him.’
Tears were running down Jane’s face; she shook her head trying to find space between gasps and giggles to speak. ‘I know who it is, and I’ve never seen anyone look so angry in all my life.’
Sarah continued to untangle herself, accepting the hand of the footman to regain her feet. She was barely upright when Foster was thrust rudely aside and she found herself within arm’s reach of the man she’d done her best to avoid. Jane was quite right, he did look more than displeased, he looked ready to murder.
The sound of hic-coughs and giggles behind her was not helping the situation. She took a deep breath, pinned on her most pleasing smile and dipped in an elegant curtsy. ‘Lord Atherton, I assume. Please do come in.’
An explosion of laughter greeted her inane comment. It was too much. She felt her self-control slipping, despite the man’s terrifying countenance, the thinness of his lips and the steely glint in his eyes, she felt her mouth curving in an involuntary smile. Instantly she too was helpless with laughter. There was no alternative but escape.
She turned her back on him and taking Jane’s arm pushed her back upstairs. Hopefully before Atherton realised what was happening, they would be out of his reach. Guardian or not, he couldn’t in all decency follow them into their private apartments.
Holding Jane’s hand she raced along the wide passageway that led from front to back of the spacious house, into the apartment they shared, slamming the door loudly behind her.
‘Goodness me, whatever must he think of us?’ Jane gasped before collapsing in a heap on the chaise-longue burying her face in her hands and crying with mirth.
Sarah recovered more quickly. Jane hadn’t seen his face, felt him vibrating with fury. If she’d known just how formidable Atherton was, she might have reconsidered her rash decision to rush to London. At least there hadn’t been time for him to go on a wasted journey to Scotland. How ever had he discovered their whereabouts so quickly?
* * * *
Perry watched his quarry running up the stairs, the sound of her laughter drumming in his ears. He was tempted to follow, to get hold of the young woman and shake some respect into her. As he glared at the deserted staircase he became aware that there were several members of staff watching him.
Schooling his features he turned nodding to the butler. ‘Here, take my things. Is Lady Isabelle down? Tell her Viscount Atherton is here to speak to her.’
The butler bowed, accepted his top coat and hat with aplomb. ‘If you’d be so kind, my lord, to follow me to the small drawing-room, I shall go at once and enquire if her ladyship is receiving this morning.’
; Perry followed him across the hall and into a pretty chamber, a substantial fire burning in the grate, and furnished with impeccable, if outmoded taste. A slight cough behind him made him turn. He raised an eyebrow.
‘Would his lordship require any refreshments?’
He shook his head. As he paced back and forth across the carpet he simmered with righteous indignation. It was lucky for Miss Ellison that he hadn’t gone on a wild goose chase to Edinburgh, that her lawyers had let slip there was a house in Town. It had not taken long for his man to ascertain the girls were in residence. What in God’s name had he let himself in for?
Twittering women were the bane of his existence. He believed that his father had been talked to death by his mother. He had moved his family to Chelmsford on his father’s demise. He had not lived with them for years and time had not changed his opinion of the distaff side of his family in particular, and women in general.
When he had stepped through the door and seen two staggeringly beautiful young women rolling around on the floor he had been nonplussed. He was still at a loss to know what they had been doing and could only surmise they had taken a tumble. That was an extraordinary enough, but for them both to ignore his presence and run away laughing at him beggared belief.
He knew himself to be a formidable man, over the years there had been many an opponent who had lived to regret being on the wrong side of his anger. Yet the older girl, in spite of being well aware of his rage, had been unmoved.
His lips twitched as he recalled her luminous green eyes, russet curls tumbling around her neck in disarray, and the prettiest pair of ankles he’d seen in a long time. He could feel his anger trickling away, maybe there was an amusing side to the incident if one looked hard enough.
The door opened and the butler stepped in. ‘Lady Isabelle to see you, my lord.’
He turned and a tall, statuesque woman with the same green eyes, but grey locks instead of chestnut, studied him and found him wanting. His chest tightened. His anger flooded back, but somehow he found the presence of mind to bow deeply.
‘Atherton, this was badly done on your part. Sit down, if you please, we have much to discuss.’ No pleasantries, no greeting, just a wave of an elegant hand towards a chair. He was tempted to snarl a reply and walk out. ‘This is not the time to stand on your high horse, my lord, kindly take a seat and stop glaring at me.’
He did as he was bid, feeling more like a recalcitrant schoolboy than a respected member of his Majesty’s government and a peer of the realm. He folded his arms, stretched out his legs and stared at the toes of his immaculate boots as if examining them for dirt.
The silence stretched and after several minutes he raised his head to find the remarkable old lady watching him amusement in her eyes. He felt his cheeks colour, he had behaved appallingly, he was famous for his diplomacy and he had let his equally notorious temper overcome his commonsense.
‘Lady Isabelle, I most humbly beg your pardon. I have not lost my temper since I was a young man and there is no excuse for my incivility.’ This time he stood and bowed deeply.
‘Apology accepted, young man. Let us forget the incident, we have more pressing matters to discuss. Now, I wish to assure you that my niece did not have my approval for her actions. She has always been headstrong, my brother-in-law was a weak man and allowed her too much rein.’ She chuckled and gestured towards the wall. ‘Would you be so kind as to summon Foster? I think we could both do with a strong cup of coffee to calm our nerves.’
Perry walked across to tug the strap. What he needed was a very large brandy, but he’d already given a disastrous impression of his capabilities and demanding strong alcohol so early in the day would not improve his image. For some reason he wished to regain the respect of this redoubtable lady.
The refreshments arrived and she was right, the bitter aromatic taste of the coffee restored his equanimity and he was ready to listen to whatever Lady Isabelle had to tell him.
‘Perhaps, my lady, it would be politic for me to explain my position?’ She nodded and so he continued. ‘I cannot understand why Miss Ellison should have taken me in dislike. We have never met, and I cannot imagine she has heard ill of me from any of her acquaintances. I merely requested that she and Miss Jane join my mother and sisters at my estate in Chelmsford.’
She chuckled. ‘I expect you ordered, rather than requested?’
‘What is the difference? I am not one for flowery language, I am the girls’ legal guardian and they are obliged to do as I bid. I will brook no disobedience from any member of my family.’ As soon as he completed the sentence he realised what an ass he sounded. He smiled and finally understood what all the fuss was about.
‘Am I to understand that Miss Ellison does not take kindly to the curb? That if I approach her more gently I am more likely to get a favourable response?
‘Exactly, my lord. I understand my oldest niece perfectly. I see myself at her age and know just how I would have reacted if some perfect stranger had started issuing dictates.’
‘How then, Lady Isabelle, do you suggest I persuade my wards to follow my instructions?’
‘It is far too late for that, I am afraid. I think it would be better if you left them in my charge, we can live here and you can call in whenever you wish to check that they are behaving themselves in accordance with your wishes.’
Perry was about to refuse, but hesitated. Was this such a bad idea? If he insisted they moved to Chelmsford he would be obliged to visit regularly to see they were not leading his sisters astray. He shuddered at the thought. Duty visits at Christmas and Easter were more than enough. When they came to him in Town he could escape to his club, he had no such bolt hole at Highfield Hall. This way he could keep an eye on them and continue to live the life he chose. His own house was only about fifteen minutes walk away in Grosvenor Square.
‘I think that is an excellent solution, my lady. However, I shall need to speak to both girls before I leave. I’m sure you understand matters cannot be left as they are between us.’
‘In which case, I shall leave you here and go up and fetch them.’ She paused as if carefully selecting her next words. ‘My nieces are intelligent and spirited young women, not like the simpering debutantes you might have come across in Town. If you treat them with respect I can promise you, you will deal famously.’
He watched her sail from the room and knew he had been warned. If there was one thing he disliked above all others it was being told what to do. His eyes flashed and his mouth thinned. If Lady Isabelle thought he was going to allow two provincial chits to dictate to him, she was very much mistaken.
Chapter Three
Lady Isabelle swept into the sitting room without pausing to announce herself causing Sarah to leap to her feet expecting to be confronted by Lord Atherton. Greatly relieved to find it was her great aunt she relaxed. ‘Aunt Isabelle, is something wrong? You look somewhat flustered.’
‘And well I might, young lady, as I have just spent fifteen minutes in the company of your guardian. He wishes to see you both immediately.’
More orders! ‘I shall not go down, I shall send a message saying I have the headache. The wretched man is too fond of issuing commands.’
‘I think we should go down, Sarah. We have treated him abominably and whether we like it or not, he has the law on his side and could make our lives wretched if he chose to do so.’
‘The voice of reason, Jane, as always. I shall compromise. Am I not always open to discussion?’ She ignored the derisive snort from her great aunt. ‘I shall go down and speak to him, but you shall stay behind. I’ll not have him berating you with something that is none of your doing. I shall apologise prettily and that will be the end of the matter.’
‘Very well. My headache has come back and I fear I am getting on my megrims. I shall send Mary to fetch me a tisane and retire to bed.’
Sarah’s face softened and she hurried to her sister’s side. ‘You should have told me, I am so sorry. I shall tell Lord Athe
rton you are unwell. Now, is my gown creased or my hair in disarray?’
Assured by both ladies that she was looking charming, she headed for the small drawing-room and in spite of her bravado could not help but feel a trifle apprehensive. As she is dithered outside the door she wished she’d had the foresight to ask Mary to accompany her. He might be her guardian, but he was still an eligible bachelor and even from the little she’d glimpsed of him she could not help noticing he was a decidedly handsome man, if a trifle brooding for her taste. She preferred a blonde gentleman, not someone with heavy brows and slate grey eyes that bored into a person in a most uncomfortable way.
If Aunt Isabelle had sent her down to speak to him unchaperoned she must suppose it was acceptable for Atherton to be alone with her as he was so to speak, in loco parentis. However, she would leave the door wide open just in case. She smiled at her wild imaginings; he was far more likely to ring her neck than wish to ravish her.
She straightened her spine, pleased for once that she was unbecomingly tall. Being able to stare into his face and not into his stock would be a definite advantage. She was about to knock on the door and remembered that she was entering a room in her own house. He had got her so bamboozled she was behaving like the veriest nincompoop.
Grasping the handle she pushed the door open with more force than she had intended and to her horror it slammed noisily against the wall causing Lord Atherton to tip his coffee down his immaculate buff unmentionables. Sarah’s instinct was to turn and flee but something, she wasn’t sure what, held her on the spot. She braced herself for the onslaught of his rage.
To her astonishment he put down the cup and bowed formally. She curtsied, almost losing her balance her knees were shaking so. He didn’t attempt to take her hand to raise her for which she was grateful. If he’d touched her he would have known instantly that she was trembling.
She faced him nervously; he was neither smiling nor scowling. ‘Shall we be seated my lord, or do you intend to berate me whilst I stand?’
Lord Atherton's Ward Page 2
