The Mysterious Heir

by Edith Layton

  “Is it true, girl?” Lady Rector asked immediately, dropping all affect of boredom, as well as her previous term of address of “Miss DeLisle” as she questioned Elizabeth. “Can you do it? There’s a pound note in it for you if you can. It is luck indeed, Isabel, if I can have that hat. For I did long for it so. It is a chip straw,” she said to Elizabeth, “with a few blue feathers and a nosegay at the side. And a wide blue ribbon to support the whole. I’ll pay for the materials as well, and if you are half so good as Isabel claims, I’ll be well satisfied. And if she is not,” the lady went on to the general company, “it is only money. And if it does not come out right, my maid will be glad of a new bonnet to impress the staff with. As she is a dream with a pressing iron,” she confided to Mrs. Henrick, “it will be well worth the price, however it turns out.”

  Mrs. Woods was stunned, and sat with her mouth open as Elizabeth rose and stood to face the others. Her face was white save for two high spots of color upon her cheeks. Her topaz eyes flashed brighter than the sunlight on the tea left unfinished in her cup.

  “I am afraid not, Lady Rector,” she said clearly. “For there wouldn’t be time to do the creation justice. I shall be leaving Lyonshall shortly and I would not want to get your hopes up by taking the commission. A pound note is very generous, I’m sure,” she added, curtsying as low as she would to a Queen, which Lady Rector noted and stiffened in affront at, “but I shall have to write it off as a loss. If, however, you are ever in Tuxford, we should be glad of your custom. If you will excuse me, ladies,” she said while she still had the control to keep her voice steady, “it has been delightful, but I do have letters to write. So sorry to disappoint you, Lady Rector. Good afternoon.”

  As Elizabeth left, so blind with grief and rage that she achieved the door only by instinct, she could hear Lady Rector announce, “Well! I must say, Isabel, I knew the countryside was primitive in many ways, and one must make do, but to have me to tea with a milliner! And when I tried, really tried to make the best of it and offer the chit a few shillings, to be so cruelly distained! Even Madame Dupont, on her highest ropes, is not so high in the instep, and would never think of taking tea with me.”

  “I should think she would kill for the privilege,” Lady Isabel’s soothing voice went on as she tried to smooth her friend’s feathers, and Elizabeth closed the door behind her.

  Elizabeth stood in the hallway and drew in deep breaths. It will not do, it will not do, she told herself severely, to rush through the house in tears. As she sought to contain herself, the butler appeared at her side.

  “Is anything the matter, miss?” he inquired with concern.

  “No, nothing. It will pass,” she said, turning her face from him so that he could not see her glittering, swimming, tear-filled eyes.

  “Might I suggest the library, miss?” the butler said after a moment, watching her closely. “For there is never anyone there at this time of day. It is a pleasant spot to relax in, miss,” he urged, beginning to walk toward the library, as Elizabeth followed, “and I shall see that you are not disturbed, Miss DeLisle,” he said softly.

  When he had closed the door behind her, Elizabeth finally let the tears fall. But only for a moment. After a few minutes of ragged weeping, she sat up and dashed her handkerchief across her eyes.

  One more tear, you silly chit, she threatened herself, and I am done with you. If they have embarrassed you, she thought angrily, it was no more than deserved. For they had not, after all, lied about her condition. Nor had they invented tales about her behavior. They had only spoken the truth. And if, she cautioned herself, you yourself had forgotten that truth here among the idle and the wealthy, then you are the only one to embarrass yourself, the only one to have illusions shattered. So she sat up rigidly and gazed out of the long lettered French doors, unseeing, as she dared herself to drop one more tear over the matter, and refused to think, here and now, about its implications.

  “Now what sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into?” the Earl asked, echoing her own thoughts as he entered the library.

  “No trouble,” Elizabeth replied stiffly. “It is just that I am unaccustomed to tea parties.” All she could see as she kept her eyes downcast was the silver head of his walking stick as he stood beside her chair.

  “And unaccustomed to incivility, insult, and cruelty as well,” he said.

  She turned her face toward him and was glad that she had not seen him as he came in, for his lips were pressed into a tight line, and his face was hard.

  “I know the whole,” he said, settling lightly on the arm of the chair she had flung herself into. “What Mrs. Woods did not tell me, Weathering did.”

  “I am sorry if Mrs. Woods found being forced into company with a mere shopgirl, a milliner, to be degrading,” Elizabeth said defiantly.

  “It was the ‘two-faced witch’ and ‘that stick of an old tart’ that she complained of, actually,” the Earl said, his voice lightening. “I did not hear any mention of shopgirls. The only reference to you was couched in terms of ‘that poor dear child’ and ‘the dear young lady.’ She parted from Isabel shortly after you did, with an astonished vicar’s wife and Mrs. Henrick in tow. And not silently, either, from what I hear. She did say that she had a few choice words for her hostess as she exited. Then she turned the house upside down searching for you, but Weathering was vigilant. He was also quick to guide her to me,” the Earl said ruefully, “and she let me know in no uncertain terms what she thought of my ‘two fine London ladies.’ I shall have to swallow a great many of her husband’s evil possets till I am in that woman’s good graces again. And if it troubles you, whatever the vicar’s wife thought, she is certain to unthink, being wise enough to know to whom her husband owes his living. And Mrs. Henrick knows well what society she will be left to after the dear ‘ladies’ depart this vicinity. Mrs. Woods made it clear that ‘Emma will come round, and Mary too, if she knows what’s good for her.’ So come, Elizabeth, the only harm that’s been done is to the name of good manners, and Isabel’s spite should not sink you so low.”

  “She only spoke the truth. It was not a secret,” Elizabeth said staunchly, wondering for the first time who it was that had told Isabel the truth of her occupation.

  “No, no secret,” he agreed, “but neither is it common gossip. And do not look at me like that, Elizabeth. Your eyes speak volumes. It was not I. More likely it was Anthony that told Harry, Bev, and everyone else. Not that it matters. For it doesn’t. Yes, yes,” he said, now rising, “you think it shameful. And think that everyone in society would as well. Some would, but the majority would know that it is far wiser to work at a trade and survive than die in a socially correct manner as a perfect, idle, starving lady.

  “Lady Rector is a rare old piece of goods. I wonder where Isabel got her direction. She is a practiced harpy, and there’s not a man or woman of sense in the ton who will credit half a word she utters. Had I known she was coming, I would have canceled the whole,” he mused.

  “It has gone on quite long enough,” he said suddenly. “I would stay and convince you of the foolishness of this morning’s matter, but I am about to end all the nonsense. My man of business has come. I wrote to him some days ago. Yes,” he said, as she stared up at him, “it is almost over. I have made a decision. I shall closet myself with him this very afternoon, and then I think we can all breathe easier.

  “Bear up, it will only be for a little while longer,” he said, looking fully at her. Before she could ask a question, he spoke briskly. “Now, I suggest you leave here, for if you crouch in the library all afternoon, Isabel will have achieved all she set out to do. I did not think you so tame a creature, my dear.”

  He held out his arm and Elizabeth rose and placed her hand upon it.

  “Quite so,” she said, holding her head high as she went from the library with him.

  “Very good,” he bent to breathe into her ear. “Now, do smile, or Weathering will have my head.”

  *

  E
lizabeth did not have to face Lady Isabel that afternoon. She did not know if the Earl had spoken with her, but Lady Isabel decided to have a light luncheon with Owen in her rooms. Anthony was out riding alone, and the Earl, his man-at-law, and Lord Beverly had gone together to the Earl’s study. Finding herself alone, Elizabeth selected a promising book from the library and settled herself at a bright window seat in the same small salon where she had been so roundly insulted in the morning. She felt that by revisiting it she would show the world that the whole incident was of no import to her. And in truth she did not ponder it. But she read little of the book before her, she was so busily thinking, not of the morning’s events, but of her future. Most especially of what her future would be when the Earl at last had set his decision down upon paper.

  Anthony, Richard, or Owen? she wondered. Which would make the better heir? And then, omnipresent, the thought came to her that, to herself alone, it mattered little now which he chose, despite all of Uncle’s hopes. She only wondered whether she would ever set eyes upon him again once she left his home. Perhaps, she thought, growing drowsy in the sunlight, he would stop off in Tuxford one day to see how his cousin did. Perhaps if Anthony was named heir, he would have him to Lyonshall again to go over accounts, and Elizabeth could come along for the journey. Perhaps, she thought at last, half-conscious from her lack of sleep, he would want to kiss her again. Just once again, she thought, laying her book down and her forehead against the cool windowpane.

  “How lovely,” Lord Kingston said.

  Elizabeth started up with such force that the book slid to the floor. She reached for it, but Lord Kingston retrieved it first, and she found herself looking up into his intent blue gaze. He held the book, and did not offer it to her outstretched hand.

  “Your pardon for awakening you,” he said quietly, “but you looked so very lovely, like some sleeping dryad surprised in the wood.”

  “Dryads don’t read much, I think,” Elizabeth said crossly, “and there’s not a tree in sight.”

  “Why do you always attempt to take the wind from my sails?” he asked seriously.

  Elizabeth saw the frown which only slightly marred his smooth even features and watched the late light play upon his fair hair. He was a tall, straight, well-looking man, and now that he had left off wearing his black sling, claiming that only the damp troubled his wound these days, he looked a picture-perfect man of fashion. She wondered again why she remained so impervious to his gallantries.

  “I suppose,” she answered just as seriously, being still too dazed with waking to take care with her words, “because everything you say to me seems so rehearsed. And quite the same as the things you say to Lady Isabel. And whenever I do say a thing you don’t expect, you seem displeased.”

  “How am I to communicate with you, Elizabeth?” he asked plaintively, sitting down on the seat beside her. “My usual manner you distrust. I have asked Tony about you time out of mind, but he doesn’t understand your attitude either.”

  Elizabeth stood up abruptly. “It doesn’t matter, really,” she said, “for soon we shall both be on our separate ways.”

  He reached out and grasped her by the wrist and said earnestly, “But it does matter to me, Elizabeth. Very much.”

  Elizabeth did not wish to be rude enough to pull free from him, so she only said simply, “Lady Isabel is far more conversant with the art of light flirtation. I wonder that you do not concentrate on her, for you two are of the same world. I am only a shopgirl from the provinces, Lord Kingston, and you shouldn’t wonder at my gaucheries.”

  “But I do,” he said, rising, and still holding her fast by the wrist. “And I know Lady Isabel of old. She is like all the others of her ilk. It is your freshness, your naturalness, which enchants me.”

  Elizabeth grew alarmed at his insistence and reached out for the book he held, so that she might make a retreat. But he only dropped the book and then grasped her by both hands.

  He gazed down at her, and then, curiously, looked quickly at the clock upon the mantel. Seeing her puzzled expression, he said hurriedly, “There is time for us. Someone always comes to interrupt our conferences, but I see that this once I have time to speak my heart. Elizabeth, you delight me. I think you have been so dazzled by Morgan that you have not given me a chance. But Morgan, you see, can feel nothing toward you. His late wife destroyed all faith in women for him. I can see that a female might find him intriguing, but, Elizabeth, there is no hope for you from that quarter. But I am heart-whole, or was, until I met you. It is high time you considered me. But,” he said, cocking his head to the side, “it is my words which have always displeased you, isn’t it? I think”—he smiled, pulling her toward him—“it is time you judged my actions.”

  He wrenched her to him and held her close. And lowered his head and kissed her gently before she knew what he was about. His lips were cool and undemanding, but still she fought free of his embrace.

  “Lord Kingston,” she gasped, trying to pull her arms away, “you go too far. I am not interested in lovemaking. You can only anger me this way. Please let me free.”

  He stood for a moment, considering her. Then his eyes turned to the clock once more.

  “On the contrary,” he said, smiling. “I think it is only that I have not gone far enough.”

  This time she was prepared for his onslaught and dragged her hands together so that when she was pulled close they at least acted as a buffer between their bodies. This time, however, he was adamant, his mouth was open and hot upon her lips. This time he kissed her savagely. While she struggled he quickly transferred both her fists to one large hand, so that he could grasp at her breast with his other.

  Elizabeth felt no responsive delight in his kiss, and his gripping hand at her breast caused no thrill to her senses such as the Earl’s gentle touch had aroused. She felt only suffocating panic and disgust.

  He had forced his tongue against her gritted teeth, when she suddenly remembered the advice Anthony had given her in jest long ago. She relaxed a moment and he took heart from her surrender. As he groaned against her mouth and gripped her closer, she eased one slippered foot behind his highly polished boot. Feeling her slight movement, he chuckled low in his throat and thrust one leg between hers as he strove to lower her to the chaise. Then she gave him a sudden strong shove which sent him backward, stumbling over her impeding foot. He went reeling back, releasing her as he attempted to regain his balance.

  She stood appalled, backing away from him. He recovered himself and stood upright, only looking at her. He did not appear to be a man driven by passion. Though his cravat was askew, he did not breathe hard, nor did his cool light blue eyes register anything but calculation.

  Elizabeth neither slapped him nor burst into tears. Rather she wiped her mouth savagely with the back of her hand and cried in ringing tones, “That was revolting! If that is how you thought to win me over, I think London females must be wanting wits! I find you quite revolting! A popinjay, a fool! Pray leave me and never, never speak to me again!”

  But he made no answer. He only looked beyond her to the doorway of the room; then he shrugged. “What could I do?” he said simply. “I misread the situation and went a bit too far.”

  Elizabeth wheeled around to see that the Earl and Anthony stood within the room, goggling at her.

  “A bit too far?” Elizabeth cried in disbelief.

  Anthony was the first to step forward. His fists were clenched and he looked from Elizabeth to his friend in troubled confusion.

  “Come, Tony,” Lord Kingston said, straightening his cuffs. “You are a man now. Your lovely cousin went to my head. It was only a bit of light lovemaking that got out of hand. I don’t often lose control, and for that I do apologize, but she does not know the strength of her own charms. I understand your anger, to be sure. But I am a gentleman. If it will satisfy you, I will offer for her. Although,” he went on calmly, “in London a mere kiss would not be considered such a shocking disaster. Still, I am your friend.
And Elizabeth is your cousin, and lovely. I could do a great deal worse. And so could she. For with all her protestations, which I do understand, my dear,” he said placatingly to Elizabeth, as though they shared a great secret, “it seemed to me that she was enjoying it well enough till I forgot her youth and inexperience,” he went on with a lifted brow that robbed his words of meaning.

  “But then,” he sighed, “I was ever self-congratulatory, eh, Morgan?”

  The Earl remained quiet, though his face was shuttered and grim, while Anthony stood taut and flushed with anger.

  Lord Kingston went on smoothly, “Still, if you won’t accept my apology, or my offer, you may wish to call me out. Come, Tony, cry friends, or it will be pistols at dawn, old fellow. Shouldn’t you rather have me as a brother than as an opponent?”

  Anthony glanced to Elizabeth’s horrified face and made up his mind.

  “Pistols, then,” he said tightly, “for I know Elizabeth too well to stomach these lies.”

  “No,” the Earl said coldly, limping into the room. “Not in this house, or upon these grounds. Go to London if you wish to do battle. I shall not countenance it. Harry, we will talk about this later. And, Anthony, Harry is correct only in that such things are not considered so rigidly in the sets he travels with in Town. But he has apologized. And we are none of us tattlemongers. It need go no further. Elizabeth, come tell us, do you think it a bloodletting matter?”

  “No,” Elizabeth said quickly, thinking that Anthony had never held a pistol in his young life, while Lord Kingston often bragged about his marksmanship, even with one “bad wing,” as he called it, at Manton’s in London. “But,” she said quickly, “I did not…” Her words trailed off into silence when she saw the chilled and chilling expression of distaste upon the Earl’s face.