Lady Vengeance

by Melinda Hammond

  ‘Flatterer,’ she admonished him, trying to sound stern. ‘Is that my book you are holding? Give it to me.’

  ‘Here you are. What is it, another romance?’

  ‘Yes, and quite tedious it must be, or I assure you I should not have fallen asleep. Now, my boy, come sit by me and tell me, when did you arrive?’

  ‘I have but this moment come in, Mama. Yes, I know what you will say, I should have changed before coming to see you, but how could I wait to see my favourite lady, and I assure you I wiped my boots most carefully before coming indoors.’

  ‘Fie on you, sir, when have I ever scolded you over a little mud when we are in the country? Pray be sensible, Jonathan. Your father is not yet returned?’

  ‘No. Fletton told me he had gone out, so I came directly to you. Did I disturb you?’

  ‘Not at all, my love. I had no intention of sleeping. There was an hour or so to spare before I needed to change my dress for dinner, and I thought I might be usefully employed improving my mind.’ This prim speech was belied by the mischievous twinkle that gleamed in my lady’s eyes.

  The viscount smiled back at her. ‘What is this talk of changing your dress? Is that in my honour ma’am? If so I am most flattered.’

  My lady gave her attention to smoothing the creases from her snowy apron.

  ‘I did not see your father’s letter, Jonathan. What did he say to you?’

  ‘Oh, it was the briefest of notes. He merely requested the pleasure of my company here for a few days.’

  ‘Then you know nothing of …’ She broke off and looked up as the door opened, saying in a voice tinged with relief. ‘My lord! You are just in time, Jonathan is here.’

  ‘So I was informed,’ murmured Lord Hartworth, strolling across the room and bending to salute his wife’s upturned cheek. Straightening, he smiled at his son. ‘How are you, my boy?’

  ‘Well, sir, I thank you. No need to ask how you go on. Chase has always agreed with you.’

  The earl smiled faintly. ‘Indeed it has.’ He turned to his wife: ‘My dear, if you do not object, I will take Jonathan away with me. There are one or two things I should like to discuss with him.’

  ‘Of course you must go! Besides, it is time I was thinking of what I am to wear this evening.’

  The two gentlemen took their leave of her, Lord Hartworth leading his son downstairs to the library, where a decanter and glasses were set out in readiness for them.

  ‘You’ll take a glass of Malmsey with me, Jonathan?’ Lord Hartworth poured two glasses without waiting for a reply. He handed a glass to the viscount and bade him to be seated before continuing, ‘When I left Town, you were attempting to find a certain lady. Madame de Sange, do I have that correct?’

  ‘Yes sir. As I told you at the time, Guy Morellon is also anxious to trace her, but so far my luck has been quite out. She seems to have vanished without trace. The only consolation is that Thurleigh’s luck appears to be no better than my own. I have been keeping an eye on Thurleigh and I’ll swear he has no more notion than I do where to find the lady.’

  ‘Much less notion, in fact,’ purred the earl, sipping his wine.

  ‘Sir?’

  The older man smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

  ‘Did I forget to mention it in my letter to you, Jonathan? Madame de Sange is staying here as my guest.’

  Chapter Twenty

  In which a lady loses her temper

  For a full minute the viscount could only stare at his father, whose amusement deepened at the young man’s obvious confusion. At last he took pity upon his son and volunteered an explanation.

  ‘I came upon Madame de Sange in a small village in Bedfordshire, where I had stopped to pay my respects at the grave of my late friend Ambrose Burchard. It did not take me long to discover her identity and to persuade her to put herself under my protection.’

  ‘To put herself …! Sir, I think I should tell you –’

  ‘She is a most unusual young lady.’ The earl interrupted him smoothly. ‘She has told me her history.’

  ‘What, sir, all of it?’

  ‘I believe so, and I must say I find her resolution and fortitude most remarkable.’

  ‘I wonder that she should be so forthcoming upon such short acquaintance,’ observed the viscount dryly. ‘You appear to be on the best of terms.’

  The earl’s eyes gleamed. ‘You forget, Jonathan, that I have the advantage of my years. I am old enough to be her father.’

  ‘I wonder if that is how she views the matter.’

  ‘You do not appear to like the lady, my son,’ observed my lord, smiling.

  Davenham threw up his hands. ‘Like her! In faith, sir, I know not what to make of her. When she disappeared I went to Knight’s Bridge to discover what information I could get there, only to find Thurleigh had gone before me, searched the house and terrorised most of the servants into running away.’

  ‘And it seems our dear friend Thurleigh is very anxious to find Madame de Sange.’

  ‘From what I have heard, I believe it is not so much the woman as a jewel he wishes to find. A ruby brooch that she stole from him years ago.’

  ‘Did Thurleigh tell you the lady stole the jewel?’

  The viscount shrugged, his face harsh. ‘Does it matter? The woman is involved in more than one murder. A little robbery would not be out of place.’

  ‘Perhaps you will revise your opinion when you have heard Madame’s story.’

  ‘Oh, I had that from Hannah Grisson, the companion, who has known her all her life. A very touching tale!’

  ‘You did not believe it?’

  ‘I believe Madame de Sange to be a scheming jade, whatever her history!’

  Over the rim of his empty glass the earl regarded his son steadily, an enigmatic gleam in his blue eyes. A clock somewhere in the house chimed and he rose from his chair.

  ‘I must not keep you any longer. You will be wishing to change out of those travelling clothes before we join the ladies for dinner. And I hope, my son,’ he added, with the ghost of a smile, ‘that when you discard your muddied raiment, you will also rid yourself of that forbidding scowl.’

  Despite his father’s advice, when Lord Davenham presented himself in the drawing room at the appointed hour, it could not have been said that he was in the sunniest of moods. He found his parents there, and as he joined them they broke off their conversation to greet him.

  ‘Jonathan, my boy, how gratifying that you are so punctual.’ The earl raised his glass to observe his son’s raiment. The frock-coat of dark blue velvet was well cut, and hung open to display an embroidered silver waistcoat and an abundance of snow-white lace at his throat, but the absence of any ornament caused his parent’s expressive brows to rise. ‘Such plain dress, my son! Perhaps you should have taken orders.’

  The viscount’s solemn countenance was transformed when he laughed.

  ‘Hardly, sir! You must forgive me if I eschew the more extravagant style of dress. An abundance of fobs and jewels is not for me.’

  ‘Evidently.’ Lord Hartworth shuddered elegantly and turned aside as his lady stepped forward, holding out her hands to her son and pulling him close so that he could kiss her cheek.

  ‘My lord has told you that we have a visitor?’ She smiled up at him. ‘I want you to be very kind to her, Jonathan. From the little she has said of your previous meetings, I think she has formed a poor opinion of you.’

  ‘Indeed, ma’am?’

  ‘Yes indeed!’ retorted his fond Mama, tapping his cheek with her fan. ‘But if you mean to look so disagreeable and behave in that odiously haughty manner, you may go away and I will have Cook send dinner to your room.’

  The cold look left his face.

  ‘Doubtless you would send me a stomach powder, too, since I am so obviously cholicky!’

  ‘Of course!’ She saw he was amused and pressed home her advantage. ‘Now I pray you, Jonathan, be kind to the child, and do not look too critically at her g
own. Your father wants as little attention as possible for our guest so I dared not send out for more clothes, and we had to make over some of my own dresses. I must say, though, it has answered very well, for apart from being obliged to let down the hems, and adding a flounce or two to accommodate the lady’s height, they fitted her admirably. Hush now, here she comes, and remember, my dear, be kind.’ With this final whispered admonition, the countess went forward to greet Madame de Sange, who was standing hesitantly in the doorway.

  Lord Davenham’s first thought was surprise that his mama had ever worn such a fetching gown as the one that now adorned Elinor de Sange. The peacock-green silk shimmered in the candlelight, and scallops of blond lace decorated the full skirts, with matching ruffles at the lady’s elbows and about her neck. Her red-brown hair was unpowdered and pinned up in artless curls, framing a face that was as pensive as it was beautiful.

  ‘My dear Elinor, pray come in!’ My lady drew her guest forward until she was standing before the viscount. ‘I am sure you remember my son, Jonathan, for I know you have met any number of times in Town.’

  Elinor glanced up, uncertain of her reception, but she found the viscount regarding her with nothing more menacing that a faint, polite smile. She relaxed slightly and gave him her hand.

  ‘Yes of course. How do you do, my lord?’ her tone was cool, but not unfriendly, and the viscount answered in kind, although he made no effort to engage the lady in conversation.

  ‘You can have no idea how pleasant it is for me to have Elinor to bear me company,’ remarked Lady Hartworth, sensing the restraint. ‘Your father always has a great many things to attend to when we are here and one cannot be forever driving abroad paying morning calls. To have so charming a guest is a veritable blessing.’

  ‘You are too kind, ma’am,’ murmured Elinor, blushing faintly.

  ‘I trust, Madame, you do not find Hart Chase a trifle dull,’ remarked the viscount, unable to keep the acid note from his voice. ‘I believe you have been used to a more eventful way of life.’

  Even as the words left his lips Davenham regretted them. He observed the expression of pain and confusion that momentarily shadowed Elinor’s countenance, but before he could offer an apology, Lady Hartworth intervened. Casting her son a look of burning reproach, she carried Elinor off to sit beside her until they went into dinner. Somewhat to his mother’s surprise, the viscount begged to be allowed to escort their guest. Elinor acquiesced silently, but as they followed the earl and his lady across the hall Davenham detained her, allowing his parents to move away so that he could speak to her privately.

  ‘Madame, pray forgive me for my incivility. I have not yet recovered from the shock of finding you here.’ He tried to speak jokingly, but realized to his dismay that he had merely succeeded in sounding even more cutting. He felt the lady’s fingers tremble upon his arm.

  ‘It is of no consequence, sir. I pray you will not allow my presence to destroy all your pleasure in coming here. For my part I shall endeavour to inconvenience you as little as possible!’

  Removing her hand from his sleeve, she walked quickly away, leaving the viscount to follow her into the dining room. During the meal it was left to Lady Hartworth to maintain a flow of inconsequential chatter, with the earl obligingly adding the occasional remark. The countess could only be thankful when the time came for her to remove with her guest at the end of the meal, leaving the gentlemen to their own devices.

  Upon entering the drawing room some time later, the earl and his son found only my lady, dozing in a chair beside the fire. She sat up as they entered, stifling a yawn and smiling upon the gentlemen.

  ‘So here you are at last. I vow you have been so long about your cognac that I had almost given you up. Poor Elinor was so tired she could scarce keep her eyes open, so I have sent her to bed. I think she has the headache, for she was unusually quiet at dinner, was she not, my lord? However, she makes you both her apologies. Although in my opinion,’ added my lady, fixing her son with a reproachful eye, ‘it is you, sir, who should be making the apology for your cavalier behaviour before dinner. How came you to be so unkind to our guest, Jonathan?’

  ‘It was not my intention, Mama, and I am indeed sorry for it. However –’ he looked at her, frowning – ‘How much do you know of the lady’s history, ma’am?’

  Lady Hartworth met her son’s eyes steadily.

  ‘Enough to know that she has suffered quite dreadfully at the hands of evil men.’

  ‘And do you also know, Mama, that she came to England seeking revenge?’

  ‘In her position I hope I would have the courage to do the same,’ she retorted with unwonted spirit.

  ‘Madame de Sange has favoured us with a full and, I believe, true account of events,’ remarked the earl. ‘I think it might be best if you were to discuss this with the lady herself on the morrow.’

  ‘Yes, I agree,’ put in his wife, a note of weariness creeping into her voice. ‘It is far too late to talk of such weighty matters now.’

  ‘Poor Mama, you too should have retired,’ said the viscount, looking closely at her. ‘There was no need to wait up for us.’

  ‘Nonsense, Jonathan, I am not in the least bit tired,’ she retorted, sitting up in her chair. ‘How could I go to bed without seeing you, and on your first evening with us, too! Now come and sit down with me, my son, and tell me all the latest gossip from London.’

  The viscount obliged her with half an hour of the most interesting stories from Town, but after this time he excused himself, pleading fatigue. For a long moment after he had left the room, my lady remained staring at the door.

  ‘Well,’ she said at last, shaking her head. ‘I must say tonight has been one of the most uncomfortable evenings I have ever endured. Elinor hardly touching her food, and blushing every time one spoke to her, and as for Jonathan, he scarcely said a word at dinner! I really cannot make it out.’

  ‘Can you not?’ murmured her spouse, looking amused. ‘And I have always considered you a romantic.’

  She stared at him.

  ‘Surely you cannot mean – but they scarcely know one another!’

  ‘Does that matter? I knew I loved you the moment I first saw you.’

  A rosy blush coloured my lady’s cheek.

  ‘And I you, my lord, but that was different.’ She observed his smile and sighed. ‘Mayhap you are right, my lord, you usually are. Well, all I can say is that I hope they will soon get over it, for there is nothing more uncomfortable than to be obliged to share one’s house with a pair of quarrelsome lovers!’

  * * * *

  The morning dawned dull and wet, with a damp mist shrouding the countryside. It suited Elinor’s mood, for she had awoken with an almost tangible depression hanging over her. However, after taking breakfast in her room, she dressed and went down to the library, where she took some comfort in the cheerful fire she found blazing in the hearth. She sank down into a chair and closed her eyes, hoping that a little quiet reflection would drive off the threatening headache. She fell into a doze and when she awoke some time later it was to find the viscount standing over her.

  ‘Oh! I – I am sorry, you were perhaps wishing to use the library? I will go –’ She started to rise, but Lord Davenham waved to her to remain in her seat.

  ‘Please, stay where you are.’ He gave her a slight, perfunctory smile. ‘My father suggested we should talk. I was unpardonably rude to you last night. I apologise.’

  Elinor blinked in surprise, regarding his back as he walked away from her to stand looking out of the window, staring out at the pleasant prospect of shaved lawns and orderly flowerbeds that glistened in the rain. ‘Will you – that is, I would be honoured if you would tell me how you come to be here.’

  ‘Has not Lord Hartworth -?’

  ‘I wish to hear the story from you,’ he broke in, turning to face her. He saw her stiffen and added, ‘If you please, Madame.’

  After a moment, Elinor nodded.

  ‘Very well. Won’t
you sit down, my lord? To have you standing over me puts me at a disadvantage.’

  He drew up a chair and sat down facing her.

  ‘There. Now will you begin?’

  She could not explain why his presence should cause her hands to tremble so, and she clasped them in her lap to disguise the malaise.

  ‘I was visiting my father’s grave when Lord Hartworth first approached me. He told me he had known me as a child, when he had come upon occasion to visit Papa.’

  ‘Wait –’ the viscount stared at her, frowning. ‘Who was your father?’

  ‘Ambrose Burchard.’

  ‘But of course! I should have realized – my father’s dear friend.’ He subjected her to another searching look. ‘He died in a duel?’

  The lady’s face darkened.

  ‘He was brutally slain by Lord Thurleigh or one of his cronies! My father was a peaceful man, no more adept at swordplay than – than I am. And as if his death was not enough, my mother and I were forced to flee the country, for fear of being arrested as thieves!’

  ‘Ah. The ruby.’

  ‘What do you know of that?’

  ‘I called upon your companion, Mistress Grisson. She had just endured a visit from my Lord Thurleigh, who made it clear to her that he was anxious for news of you and, it would seem, for the return of a certain ruby brooch.’

  ‘When – when was this?’ she asked him, growing pale.

  ‘Soon after Boreland’s death – you knew of that, of course?’ His sarcasm was lost on her, and she merely nodded.

  ‘Poor Hannah, was she hurt?’

  ‘No, but very frightened – and more for your sake than her own.’

  ‘I must write to her again, tell her I am safe –’

  ‘That would not be wise at present,’ he said quickly. ‘Thurleigh has not given up his search for you. But we digress from your tale, Madame. Why did you come to Hart Chase?’

  ‘Your father seemed to know something of me.’ She shot a speculative glance across at the viscount. ‘From you, perhaps?’