by Carola Dunn
“Pray think nothing of it, Miss Chatterton. Fortune having brought us to where we were needed, what else could we do? Besides, your thanks are due more to Miss Gracechurch than to me, for she is the one with the knowledge and I did no more than to follow her orders.”
“I shall thank her too,” Lavinia promised, then went on shamefacedly, “I...I was not very welcoming yesterday. I hope you will forgive me, and that we can be friends?”
“Of course,” said Jane, who considered every acquaintance a potential friend until proven otherwise. “I understand perfectly.”
“I don’t in general put on such airs. You see, my situation is difficult. My mama and Lady Wintringham say I must try to attract Lord Wintringham’s interest. I am prodigious lucky that he is Fitz’s friend, for he is a splendid parti, rich and titled, and his conduct in every way irreproachable. And he is even handsome, and not too old, so I have nothing to complain of.”
“No, indeed.”
“But oh, Miss Brooke, I cannot like him. His manner is so...so contemptuous that he frightens me and I can never think of anything to say to him. Did you know that they call him My Lord Winter? I am not the only one who finds him intimidating. I cannot bear the thought of being married to him.”
“Then you must not,” said Jane decisively. “Stop trying to attach him and follow your own inclination. I am sure there are other equally eligible gentlemen who will be acceptable to both you and your parents.”
“Oh yes, I expect I shall meet dozens, for we are soon to go up to Town for the Season.”
Dismayed by this news, Jane didn’t ask herself why she had not revealed to Lavinia her discovery that beneath My Lord Winter’s shell of ice dwelt a most attractive gentleman.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Miss Gracechurch paused in the doorway of the library and looked around the room with envy. It was as impressive as Jane had told her.
One of the greatest disadvantages of her past life at Hornby Castle had been the difficulty of procuring books, which offset the advantage of having a great deal of leisure for reading. What the future held she could not guess. Deciding to make the best of the present, she set off on a tour of exploration.
“Perhaps I might be of assistance, ma’am?” said Mr. Selwyn’s quiet voice behind her.
She swung round, smiling. “Sir, I beg your pardon. I did not see you.”
“These chairs are admirably designed to hide their occupants. Were you looking for something in particular? I fancy I have fathomed his lordship’s system of classification.”
“To tell the truth, I am overwhelmed by this embarras de richesse. I can imagine wandering around forever, unable to make a choice.”
“Then might I suggest that you tell me what you like to read and I will select a few books for you, to reduce the perplexity to manageable proportions.”
“To choose between subjects is almost as difficult. I shall rely entirely upon your judgement.” She sat down in the chair opposite the one from which he had risen. “But pray do not bring me some technical treatise on agriculture!”
He laughed. “I promise.”
His long face was well suited for laughter, she thought, not at all the dry, fussy look one expected of a lawyer. He was as much the gentleman as Lord Wintringham, and with a gentlemanly ease of manner that the earl could not match. Whatever the future brought—at present it appeared less than promising—she would be glad that she had met Mr. Selwyn.
He brought her a half dozen volumes, setting the stack on the table beside her chair. “Our host is a noted bibliophile,” he said, as she picked up the top book and read the title. “He has followed in the footsteps of his uncle, the late Earl of Wintringham, who built up this superb collection.”
“You sound as if you have the knowledge to appreciate it.”
“I myself am a collector, in a small way, of course. I cannot hope to compete with this library, but I have one or two items I believe his lordship might even consider worthy of his locked shelves.” He cast a longing glance at a cabinet in one corner.
“Rare books? I fear I should not understand their value. Jane and I simply enjoy reading.”
“If you have taught her that, you have taught her a great deal.”
“Taught...I...oh dear!” she said, flustered.
“Forgive me, Miss Gracechurch. I do not mean to discompose you, but I flatter myself I am not an unobservant man. Would I be incorrect in guessing that Miss Brooke is something more than she pretends to be, and that you are her governess?’’
“Oh dear!” She dropped the book in her lap and hid her scarlet face in her hands. “It was wicked of me to allow her to continue her masquerade.”
“Not wicked,” he said firmly, “though perhaps unwise. However, I doubt you could have turned her from her course once she was set in it.”
“Very true. Jane is a most determined young woman, besides being inclined to act upon impulse, as you have seen. Pray do not misunderstand me: she is also the sweetest-tempered girl. She is like a daughter to me.”
“How long have you been with her?”
“Since she was five years old, and she recently turned twenty.”
“Fifteen years! But, my dear Miss Gracechurch, you must have been in the schoolroom yourself.”
“Not quite.” She smiled at him, pleased by the implied compliment. “It was my first private position after teaching for two years in a school.”
“A good position, I assume, since you stayed so long.”
“I was exceptionally lucky to find such an agreeable situation.’’ And shall be even luckier to find another like it, she thought unhappily. When a young lady made her come-out, her governess’s duties were finished. “Jane’s parents never interfered in her upbringing. Indeed, we seldom saw them from one year’s end to the next. A ruined castle and a small manor house do not suit their consequence, I collect, besides being over far from London.”
“Then the credit for her disposition and manners is entirely yours, ma’am. Allow me to congratulate you. She is a charming young lady. You are going to London for the Season?”
“Her first. It has been postponed twice because of mourning for two distant cousins.” Her indignation on Jane’s behalf and his sympathetic interest overcame her discretion. “Very distant cousins. I should not dream of saying this to Jane, but I believe her mother has seized upon any excuse to keep her hidden away. Lady Hornby is too occupied with her own amusements to wish to be troubled with bringing out her daughter.”
“Lady Hornby? Even I know of the marchioness’s reputation as an accredited Beauty.”
“Oh dear, I ought not to have told you her ladyship’s name, nor spoken so of her. I am becoming as imprudent as Jane.”
“My dear Miss Gracechurch,” he said earnestly, “I am gratified by your trust. Every word you have said will be held in utmost confidence.”
She shook her head. “I do trust you, sir, but I hardly need exact a promise of silence. It seems Miss Chatterton is also to make her bow to Society this spring, as soon as her sister is recovered from her lying-in. I fear Jane’s escapade will inevitably be revealed. I wish that wretched Lord Wintringham had not taken it into his head to treat us as honoured guests!”
* * * *
At that moment, Lord Wintringham was ready to heartily second Miss Gracechurch’s wish.
In order to brood in peace over Miss Jane Brooke’s inexplicable ability to loosen his tongue beyond all the bounds of propriety—to the point of criticizing his family to a stranger!—he had retreated to his estate office. Thither Mr. Ramsbottom followed him. Impervious to snubs, sarcasm, and silence alike, the cotton merchant pursued his investigation into the economics of running a large estate with the dogged persistence of a terrier after rats.
In the end, Edmund was forced to escape Ramsbottom by going up early to change for dinner. The defeat rankled, and made him the readier to blame Jane Brooke for her earlier interference.
When he went down to the drawing-room
, she and Lavinia were chattering with the young students. She smiled at him. His cold glance erased her smile, but far from being crushed she cocked her head and raised her eyebrows a trifle, contriving to look both perplexed and faintly mocking. With a slight shrug, she turned back to Mr. Reid.
So Miss Brooke cared not a whit for his opinion? Fuming, and feeling somewhat foolish, Edmund joined Fitz, who stood leaning against the mantel with his hands in his pockets, beaming at the world with impartial delight.
“Daresay you noticed,” he greeted Edmund, “Lavinia didn’t so much as blink an eye when you came in.”
Edmund had been far too occupied in attempting to put Jane Brooke in her place to pay any heed to Lavinia Chatterton. “No,” he grunted.
“Not going to take a miff, are you? I was sure as eggs you’d be pleased so I encouraged her.”
“Encouraged her to cut me?”
“Lord no. To follow Miss Brooke’s advice.”
“Miss Brooke’s! And what precisely did Miss Brooke advise your sister-in-law?”
“Not to set her cap at you only because her mama and your aunt bid her, when she wouldn’t want you if she caught you. I mean,” Fitz corrected himself hurriedly as Edmund glared at Jane’s oblivious back, “I daresay she didn’t put it quite like that.”
“I shall, of course, be glad to be rid of Lavinia’s pursuit,” said Edmund, regaining his outward composure with a struggle. And he’d be glad to wring Miss Brooke’s neck, he added to himself.
For the next few minutes he was forced to listen to Fitz singing Miss Brooke’s and Miss Gracechurch’s praises. Daphne was sleeping comfortably and the baby had been removed into the next-door chamber, all due to the kind offices of those two admirable ladies.
“Like to ask your advice,” said Fitz at last in a low voice, looking round to be sure no one could overhear. The Tuttles, the Danforths, and Henry Parmenter had all come in, but none approached their host and his friend. “Thing is,” he went on, “I want to do something to thank them. It’s obvious they’re both purse-pinched, but do you think they’d be insulted if I offered them a spot of the ready?”
“Yes, I do!” Though Edmund was quite prepared to condemn Jane Brooke’s character on any number of grounds, he had never for a moment supposed her mercenary. In his experience, those who wanted money approached with obsequious flattery or whining complaint. He couldn’t imagine Jane lowering herself to either expedient.
On the other hand, payment for services rendered was a different matter from begging. However much he disliked her, he didn’t want to deny her the comfort of a few extra coins in her purse while she was searching for a post. “I’ll try to devise a way to reward them without offence,” he promised Fitz.
Reminded of his sister’s attempt to feather her nest at his expense, he decided to take her in to dinner to show he held no hard feelings. When Judith sent word that she had the headache and would not come down, he glanced around the room. There was not one female in it he wished to sit next to, a sorry state of affairs in his own house. In fact, the only one to whom he had no positive aversion was Miss Gracechurch, so he went to join her, rescuing her from a detailed exposition of Mrs. Tuttle’s illustrious family tree.
Bradbury announced dinner shortly thereafter, and Edmund found sardonic amusement in Mrs. Tuttle’s chagrined expression when he offered his arm to Miss Gracechurch.
To his surprise, he actually enjoyed her company. They talked about literature. Though she in no way put herself forward, she expressed her opinions without apology when they differed. He was forced to defend his own views, and once or twice even to concede that she might conceivably be in the right. In her own quiet, restrained way she was as forthright as Jane Brooke.
Jane was at present deep in conversation with Ramsbottom. Edmund recalled her comment that, however vulgar, the cotton merchant was at least easy to talk to. He hurriedly refocused his full attention on Miss Gracechurch, noting in passing that young Reid, on Jane’s other side, looked most uncomfortable under assault from Lavinia’s fluttering eyelashes. Apparently the boy’s expertise in proper behaviour towards the ladies was purely theoretical.
The second course was brought in and Edmund turned unwillingly to his other neighbour. The absence of two ladies had unbalanced the numbers; Henry Parmenter’s fishy eyes met his and darted away.
“I trust Judith’s headache is not too severe,” said Edmund.
“No, no, not at all, nothing to it,” gabbled his brother-in-law. “More of a pet, really. That is, you know what females are, daresay she does have the headache. Megrims! That’s the word I want.”
So Judith was sulking, as he’d supposed. After exchanging a few pointless remarks on the continuing fog, both gentlemen fell silent.
Edmund found himself once again watching Jane. She was talking to Reid now, and the youth had lost his hunted look. Surprised by a sudden flash of envy for her effortless skill in putting people at their ease, Edmund tore his gaze away from her animated face. The Earl of Wintringham had no reason to envy a chit bound for a joyless life as a governess.
Lavinia had turned her eyelash barrage on Mr. Hancock, who was better able to defend himself than his bashful friend. He appeared to be enjoying the skirmish and giving as good as he got. Edmund saw that Lady Wintringham had noticed their flirtation. Her frown boded ill for the heedless Lavinia.
Perhaps he should try again to convince his aunt that the Honourable Miss Chatterton had no hope whatever of winning his regard.
Beside him Miss Gracechurch, more reserved but as unaffectedly cordial as Jane Brooke, was now chatting with Lord Danforth. Edmund wondered to what extent she had influenced the younger woman. Obviously they were neighbours and close friends. Alfred had said Miss Gracechurch was an impoverished gentlewoman on her way to visit relatives. Probably Jane’s father was a clergyman or some such, who had taken the opportunity to send his daughter to London in the company of a respectable older female. It was odd that neither had mentioned any family, but of course he had not asked. Their antecedents were none of his business.
He caught Jane’s eye. She gave him a tentative smile and somehow he couldn’t help smiling back.
* * * *
“I didn’t mean to get her into trouble.” Jane plumped down on the love seat beside Gracie and gazed in dismay at Lavinia, shrinking before the onslaught of the countess’s wintry wrath. “I only suggested that she stop chasing the earl, not that she should start flirting with Bob Hancock instead.”
“Then you have nothing to reproach yourself with.”
“No, but I hope Lavinia does not blame me. To tell the truth, I cannot imagine what she sees in Mr. Hancock. He and Mr. Reid are just boys. Oh dear, she does look miserable. How glad I am that Lady Wintringham takes no notice of me whatsoever.”
“We might not exist for all the attention she pays us,” Gracie agreed, smiling. “However, I had an interesting discussion with her nephew at dinner. As you said, he is a pleasant companion when he forgets his station.”
“If only he were consistent. In here, before dinner, he froze me with a look, then at table he smiled at me in the friendliest way.”
“Perhaps he had learned in the interim that you were responsible for Miss Chatterton’s change of heart.”
“Do you think so? She might have told Fitz—I mean, Lord Fitzgerald—and he might have passed it on. He is the only person who seems comfortable with the earl, and I suspect it is because he is impervious to snubs.” She sighed. “Lord Wintringham will no longer have cause to be grateful to me if Lady Wintringham frightens Lavinia into setting her cap at him again.”
“Jane!”
“Into resuming her pursuit,” she amended. “It is amazing how Derek’s phrases stick in my mind when we have seen so little of him since he went away to school, and less since he started spending his holidays with friends. Do you think we will be able to visit him while we are in the South?”
“Eton is not too far from London, but I suspect a sc
hoolboy of sixteen might find a visit from his elder sister and his ex-governess a trifle embarrassing.”
Jane’s laugh was rueful. “No doubt. Last time he came home to Hornby, he spent much more time with the village lads than with us.”
While they reminisced about happy days when young Lord Brooke had been content to keep his sister company, Jane kept glancing at the door. Surely the gentlemen would not linger long over the port after last night’s disturbances. She was eager to find out whether Lavinia would simply avoid Mr. Hancock at Lady Wintringham’s behest, or go so far against her own inclination as to seek out the earl. The girl sat captive at the countess’s side, looking thoroughly cowed.
Plump little Miss Neville, on the other band, had lost her air of timid apprehension. As Jane had noticed earlier, she was positively bubbling with good cheer, as much as anyone could bubble to whom no one paid the least heed. Jane wanted to ask Lord Wintringham what he had said to his cousin. She hoped Lavinia would not monopolize him.
The earl soon led the gentlemen into the drawing-room. As soon as she saw him, his aunt ordered Lavinia to the pianoforte. “Wintringham will turn the pages for you,” she said, as she had the previous evening.
Lavinia stood up and curtsied. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but I believe I ought to pay my sister a visit.”
Fitz lent a hand. “I was just going to ask you if you wanted to go with me. Beg you’ll excuse us, my lady.”
“If your ladyship desires music,” said Jane, “I shall be happy to oblige, if Lord Wintringham will be so kind as to turn the pages.”
Though the countess ignored her offer and the earl’s tight lips rebuked her presumption, she went to the instrument and began to look through the music. He followed her, probably to voice his rebuke, she thought, but Mr. Reid tugged his friend over to join them.
His lordship’s repressive silence soon drove the youthful gentlemen to ask permission to play billiards. This granted, they made their escape, Mr. Reid with a wistful backward glance. In the meantime, Jane found a sonata by Johann Christian Bach that she knew so well as to be able to play it without effort. She quickly sat down and began to play.
