by Joan Smith
Mama came to me while I was there and said, “Bessie denies slipping out last night, and I believe she is telling the truth, for her jaw is swollen up like a melon. I believe it was Annie, though she denied it. If that poor ugly creature has found a beau I cannot like to throw a rub in her way, but I told her she must not do it again.”
This should have been a pleasant morning of calls and visits to discuss Larson’s rout but for us it was only another morning of waiting and worrying with the added woe of wondering what all the ladies had been wearing last night, and what refreshments were served and who had stood up with whom. No one came to call, not even Bernie. If Mama lost him on top of the rest, I hated to think of the future.
We couldn’t hold the weather responsible for his not calling. The clouds of early morning soon cleared to sunlight. Frustrated at my own idleness I put a few hours to use and got my accounts in order, wrote the necessary checks and had a brief interview with Smith, our bailiff. I agreed to all his suggestions without half hearing them but it was no matter. Over time the interviews had become a matter of his telling me what needed doing and how much it would cost, and my telling him to go ahead. Papa had trusted him, and that was enough for me. He was an excellent bailiff, as our profits showed.
The glazier came and replaced the window pane. When we learned the truth of that broken window, we realized it would have done no good to call the constable. It was not anyone planning to rob us who broke into the house that night, and not a guilty servant either.
Chapter Fifteen
Lady Lorna gave a few little stage coughs after breakfast that morning and took to her bed, where she remained throughout the day. Mama made no more than a duty call on her to see if she required a doctor, which Lorna refused. She did not refuse lunch, however. Balky made a point of asking Mama if she would mind if he took a bottle of wine up to her guest as she had asked for it.
“You may take Lady Lorna anything she asks for, Balky. She is my guest,” Mama snapped, in a most uncharacteristic way. But as soon as he left, she said to me, “It is news to me if wine is good for a cough! A draught of linseed and raisins and so on is what one takes for a cold. She said she had a ripping headache as well. Ten to one it is the wine that is doing it. It is clear Balky has taken her in dislike, not that he has anything to say about it. There was no need to ask me if I minded if he took her up some wine. He just wanted me to know she had asked for it.”
I felt Lorna realized her welcome was wearing thin and kept to her bed to avoid bothering Mama. That was wise of her, but it did not ease the frustration of isolation or lighten the tedium. “Let us go out for a drive, Mama,” I suggested. “The sun is out today. All this trouble with Lady Lorna is getting on your nerves.”
She gave another of her weary sighs. “Where can we go? We dare not call on anyone. I shouldn’t be surprised if we were turned from the door with the excuse that Madam is not at home.”
“We’ll go into Kelvedon.”
“If we could get her to go with us, someone might recognize her. She was well known there. Lorna and I used to go into town two or three times a week. Odd she’ll never agree to go there. I have suggested it half a dozen times. She has still not got her stockings but continues to borrow mine. Mine are too small for her. She has put the toe out of my second best pair. She says she does not want to borrow any more money. Does she think it costs nothing to replace the ones she destroys on me?”
“Are you beginning to have doubts about her, Mama?”
“Certainly not!” she said angrily, but I think the anger was because she was having doubts. “Who else could she possibly be, looking like Lorna, and knowing everything about her and the family? Anyone might change her mind about liking beef after having to eat cabbage.”
I finally talked Mama into going for a drive, but she would not risk being snubbed in town. For the same reason we did not call on any friends. We just drove about the country roads. It would have been a pleasant drive, with sunlight shining on the trees and hedgerows, if she had bothered to look at the scenery, but her thoughts did not run in that direction. I was happy when we met Mr. Beamer just outside of town and he talked her into going home with him for tea. He is a kindly soul.
When he saw Mama’s mood, he knew or suspected the cause and didn’t harp on Lady Lorna. He just asked how we were, then went on to tell us how much we had been missed at Larson’s rout. “I know you were expected, for Mrs. Larson told me so. I was happy to hear it. Why did you not go, Lucy?”
Mama opened her mouth, but no words came out. “Mama was not feeling well,” I said, rushing in to answer him. I had not told Mama that Acton had managed to get us invited. “She went to bed early with a headache.” Mama intercepted my commanding stare and said nothing.
“That is a pity,” he said. “I thought you were looking a little peaky.”
I asked about the rout party, but a man does not notice the details that are important to a lady. Unless an engagement is announced, he does not perceive the progress of a romance. While quizzing him about what young folks were at the party I managed to slip in a question as to whether Lady Anne Everley had been there.
“She was,” he said, “and sore as a boil that Acton was not there.”
This cheered me considerably. “Acton wasn’t there? That is odd. He is back from London.”
“Yes, Mrs. Larson seemed very surprised at his not going, especially as his aunts attended. They gave no reason for his not being there, even when Mrs. Larson mentioned half a dozen times that she was expecting him. It seems he had called on her on his return from London and said he planned to attend.”
The minute we were back in the carriage and headed home Mama said, “Why did you not tell me we received invitations to the rout, Kate? It was Acton’s doing, I assume?”
“Yes, and I knew you would not want him begging invitations for us. I refused for us both. I knew it was what you would want.”
“But it was Lorna’s chance — “
“Lorna was not included, Mama.”
“Ah. Then you did the right thing, of course. But you might have told me, sly puss. I cannot believe Acton went to so much trouble on my account.”
“I expect he was feeling guilty as it is his and Lady Mary’s doings that no one is calling on us.”
“I daresay you’re right,” she said resignedly. “What was I thinking? He would never marry someone like you. Especially now, after all this fracas.”
Balky had two surprising announcements when we returned. The first was that Lord Acton had called. This he told us both. I was happy we had missed him as I felt Lady Mary had told him of my disgrace and he had come to scold me. After Mama went abovestairs to see how Lorna was doing, Balky tossed his head indicating he wanted me to follow him into his little room for a private word. I thought he had some secret to tell me about Acton’s visit and was eager to hear it. But it was not that. “She’s been out,” he said. “Your mama’s guest. Darted out as soon as the carriage was down the drive.”
“Is she back? Mama is going up to see her.”
“Back ten minutes ago.”
“I expect she went out for some fresh air.”
“Then why try to hide it from me? I went into the library to see if Sally had shined up the new window as I asked her to. I saw the back of your guest high-tailing it towards the spinney. She had slipped out through the library door so I wouldn’t see her. Running, she was, and looking over her shoulder to see if she was watched.”
“Well, that is very odd,” I said.
“I thought so, Missie, especially as she gave Sally a shilling to forget she’d seen her go. Sally is no good at hiding things from me. It was never her that broke that window last night.”
“Good gracious, how odd. Lady Lorna is not a prisoner after all. If she wanted to go out there was no reason to hide it.”
He gave me a knowing wink. “That’d depend on where she was going, and why. I ought to have followed her. I wish I had thought of it. I’ll ke
ep a sharp eye on her. If she goes sneaking out again, I’ll follow her.”
“Oh dear, I don’t know what to say. I expect I ought to tell Mama.”
“Why pester the poor soul? She’s pale as a ghost and snarky along with it. Worried to death with her guest.”
“You’ve been with the family forever, Balky. Do you think she is Lady Lorna?”
He considered the question a moment before answering it. “I believed it at first, for there’s no gainsaying she looks a lot like her, taking into account how long she’s been gone and how hard the world has treated her. And she called me Balky the minute I opened the door to her that first night. I just don’t know, Missie. Your mama doesn’t seem to have any doubts. I didn’t have that much to do with Lady Lorna in the past, of course. Just open the door when she came and left, and p’raps bring a carafe of wine to the ladies. I blow hot and cold, and that’s the truth. It’s the sneaking about that makes me wonder — that trip to the Abbey.” He shook his head and gave me a stern look. How the devil did he know about that? “The servants at the Abbey know all about it, and you know how news travels in the country. Then this sneaking about today.”
“I confess I am beginning to have doubts too, Balky. We’ll watch her, see if she’s meeting someone.” I thought of Mr. Chalmers, and also Taylor. For some reason, it never occurred to me that she was meeting anyone but a man. Perhaps it was just some knowledge of her past doings with men.
I wondered if I should tell Mama. I disliked keeping so much from her, first the trip to the Abbey with Lorna, now this. But she was certainly a nervous wreck already, and it seemed cruel to add to her worries. I also felt some pity for Lorna — or whoever she was. This whole interlude was no picnic for her. Like Balky, I decided I would wait and watch. And wasn’t that a fine way to treat a guest, by spying on her!
Chapter Sixteen
Lady Lorna did not leave her room again that day or the next. One cannot entirely abandon a visitor and both Mama and I visited her, but it was clear our visits were not welcome. She claimed she was exhausted, yet she did not look at all ill. Balky, with knowing nods, informed me when Mama was not around that whatever ailed her, it was not her appetite for either food or drink. In other words, she was malingering — but why? Was she waiting for something to happen, or someone to come?
Or perhaps she was just afraid to go out. But afraid of what, or whom? I spent a good deal of time in the park, hoping to waylay Acton if he came to upbraid me. Fortunately the weather continued fine. To account for my sudden love of the park I took a sketch pad with me and worked on a sketch of Oak Hill as seen at a distance through the park.
It is a handsome house in the Palladian style, with a pillared entrance and a domed roof. In my rendition, it looked as if the roof wore a bonnet. My attempt at perspective and scale was poor. I had drawn one pillar shorter than the other, causing the house to tilt so precariously the roof was in danger of sliding off, bonnet and all. I gave it up, turned to a clean sheet and sketched a less demanding stand of fir trees instead.
In mid-afternoon I was rewarded. Acton came, not in his carriage but mounted on his fine gelding. He looked very gallant, a regular Sir Galahad riding straight and tall through the park to meet me as I rushed towards him, hoping to stop him before he reached the front door.
I had been rehearsing explanations and excuses, undecided whether to try the “best defence” of an attack, or to apologize. Imagine my astonishment to see a smile on his face. Had his aunt not told him of my disgrace?
He dismounted and walked the last two steps towards me, while his mount began nibbling the grass. “Where is your fellow ken smasher today?” he asked, using the Corinthian’s argot for thieves who sneak into houses to steal. “Or should I say sister ken smasher?” So he had been told all right.
“Lorna’s not feeling well. She’s in bed,” I said, but I’m sure my expression asked the question that was in my mind. Why was he not ripping up at me?
“That should limit her illegal activities,” he said with a satisfied smile.
“I daresay it was foolish of me to go along with her,” I said, making light of it as he was not angry.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. No harm done. She didn’t get away with the Fragonard. A fellow appreciates a little of the adventurous spirit in his girl, though for your own good, I suggest you stay on the right side of the law. Some folks are so narrow minded they dislike house breakers.”
His girl, not a girl. It left me speechless. When I could finally speak, my voice sounded unnaturally high. “Why didn’t Lady Mary call the constable, as she threatened?”
“It was not out of consideration for your guest, I promise you.” And that was all that was said about that awful night. I had been living a nightmare all that time — fretting all day and tossing and turning in my bed at night — for nothing.
“What are you sketching?” he asked, and took the pad from my fingers before I could stop him. He glanced at the stand of firs, that seemed to have turned into a spiky black cloud on the page, shook his head in confusion then flipped back to my poor attempt at Oak Hill, tilting it this way and that, trying to straighten the house up. “Ah, The House that Jack Built,” he said. “Should there not be a maiden all forlorn and a cow with a crumpled horn who — “
“It’s Oak Hill,” I said, snatching the pad back.
“I was going to suggest you sketch me but on second thought ...” I could contain my curiosity no longer. “Acton, aren’t you angry about what I did?”
“I find it difficult to be angry with you, Kate, but I’m disappointed that you’re letting that woman impose on your good judgment. What else have you been up to?”
“Nothing! I realize it was a foolish thing to do. But she knew how to get into the Abbey, and knew where she — or Lorna — kept things. She went straight to the jewelry case.”
“And finding the cupboard bare, helped herself to the Fragonard. A wise choice, the most valuable thing in the room. It’s certainly worth more than the bits and pieces of jewelry Lorna kept in her room for everyday wear.”
“She just took it in spite. I don’t think she even knew it was valuable. But she knew it was a sixteenth birthday present from your father.”
“I notice you don’t say her father. Are you beginning to believe me, Kate?”
“I don’t know what to believe,” I said, and sighed like Mama.
“I had hoped you were coming to know whom to believe at least,” he said, looking a question at me.
“Mama still says she is Lorna. And she does have that little ring that belonged to your mama,”
“Yes, that still wants explaining. I expect she showed some interest in the dresser,” he said, peering at me sideways, and noticing my start of surprise. “Specifically the bottom drawer. Did she remove it?”
“Yes. What was she looking for, Acton? You obviously know.”
“So does your guest. Ask her. But I can tell you I beat her to it.”
“I know. She was furious.”
“She obviously has some other source of information about Lorna. That’s all right. I have another source of information about her.”
“But what source? I don’t see why you make such a mystery of it!”
“I daren’t jeopardize my secret weapon, with such a determined opponent. If your guest ever got wind of it... Why I shouldn’t be surprised if she’d sink to murder.”
“So it’s a person. You can’t murder a thing. She’s not that bad, Acton. I can’t believe she’s actually capable of murder. I thought you would have your proof by now.”
He reached out and took my hand. “So did I, Kate. There has been an unfortunate delay, but soon.” For a long moment we just looked at each other. A tension began building as he gazed deeply into my eyes, till I felt hypnotized, drowning in their dark depths.
“Very soon, Kate,” he said softly, then his arms came around me and he began moving, walking me backwards, as if we were waltzing. I couldn’t imagine what he wa
s doing, until he stopped at the big old oak tree, where no one could see us from the house. Then he gazed at me a moment, slowly lowered his head and kissed me, pinning me against the tree so I couldn’t escape if I wanted to. Escape was the last thing in my mind. I was caught up in the mad, whirling sensation of that kiss as his lips pressed on mine, tentatively at first then firming to passion as his arms crushed me so closely against his chest I could feel the buttons on his jacket.
I never dared imagine Acton cared for me in that way. In my youthful and maidenly imaginings we reached the altar without more than a chaste kiss on the cheek and a declaration of undying devotion. I had never imagined love could bring such a fierce, frightening passion either. His lips were like a spark to kindling, the fire swiftly blazing to an inferno inside me.
I didn’t make a single move to stop him or slow him down. I practically egged him on, lifting my arms around his neck, stroking the silky hair at his nape, with my lips returning the ever increasing pressure of his till I felt my lungs would burst. When he lifted his head and gazed down at me, he looked dazed, the way I felt. Then he smiled, a warm, conspiratorial smile, nuzzled my ear and said, “Thank goodness for that.”
I gasped for air. “What — what do you mean?” I asked in a breathless murmur, the only voice I was capable of.
“That it’s like this between us. Natural and right. I feared you might freeze up on me.”
Burning up was more like it. “It didn’t feel natural to me,” I said. Supernatural was more like it. But it had felt right, wonderfully, excitingly right.
He laughed softly and said in his old jaunty way, “It will, with repetition.” He released me and went to pick up the sketch book I had dropped without even realizing it. I looked at him, Lord Acton, the man every lady in the parish and half the London debs wanted to nab, and wondered how he could possibly have decided on me.
