Edward inclined his head slightly. A faint, cold smile touched his lips for a fleeting moment before he moved away and took up his station by the fire, one booted foot resting casually on the marble step, his arm along the mantel. As a means of making Ingram move away, it was admirable. Adam remained just inside the door, his stance wary, his expression closed.
‘Good evening, Ingram.’ Adam’s voice was smooth but not at all welcoming. He did not offer Ingram his hand. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I’m come to ask a favour of you, my lord,’ Ingram said. He had a cultured voice, but where Adam’s tones held a careless patrician drawl Ingram’s were a little too carefully cultivated. Very occasionally, when under stress, he would waver back to the flatter vowels of his childhood.
‘How intriguing,’ Adam said politely. He could feel Edward’s gaze on them, full of suspicion—and warning. Ned knew that he had a hot temper buried deep under the easy exterior and if anyone could provoke it, this man would. ‘I was under the impression that our business was concluded, sir. The debt is paid.’
Ingram nodded. He removed his gloves and came forward to the fire, dry-rubbing his hands before the blaze. ‘I know I’m not welcome in this house. The matter of your brother-in-law’s debts was unfortunate, but business is business, my lord.’
‘It is certainly unfortunate that the one business that you and Lord Tilney ventured into together did not prosper,’ Adam agreed, with an edge to his voice. He hated this fencing, this polite fiction, when they both knew that this man had brought the Ashwick family close to ruin. The debt, thirty thousand pounds, had been huge and the Ashwicks had never been rich.
‘Aye, the debt is settled, right enough,’ Ingram said now, his tone friendly but his gaze piercing. ‘There was another matter, however, which I believe that both you gentlemen may help me with.’
‘And that is?’ Edward spoke for the first time. He took a draught of brandy, but his gaze never left Ingram’s face.
‘Property, influence…’ Ingram thrust his hands into his jacket pocket and rocked back on his heels, turning towards Adam again. ‘You have a very pretty parcel of land that abuts my estate at Linforth, my lord. I hear that the farm there is not so profitable for you, but I could make it turn in a tidy income. With some of my improvements it would soon be on its feet again.’
‘I hear that people do not like your improvements, Ingram,’ Edward said coolly. ‘There is discontent in the villages—’
Ingram barely flicked him a glance. ‘They’ll learn to live with it.’ He looked at Adam. ‘If you could see your way clear to selling the farm to me, my lord—at a reduced rate, of course, seeing as how it’s in poor shape…’
‘I cannot do that.’ Adam felt the anger rising in him and forced himself to crush it down. He kept his tone even. ‘I have a tenant in that farm, Ingram, and even if I did not I have no wish to sell.’
There was a taut silence in the room.
‘Ah, well,’ Ingram said, after a moment, ‘you might wish to reconsider in a moment, my lord. But first I had a favour to ask, like. On behalf of my wife.’
Adam raised his eyebrows. Ingram shifted a little.
‘Venetia—my wife—has taken it into her head to enter society. And as you are so influential in those circles, my lord, we thought you might smooth our way, sithee. You and your brother…’ he gave Edward a mocking bow ‘…have the entrée to so many events that we, alas, do not.’
Adam turned away. He knew it was Ingram, not his wife, who had overweening social ambitions and he was damned if he was going to assist him. ‘You are already prominent in local society, Ingram. I do not see how I may help you.’
‘There’s society and society, is there not, my lord?’ Ingram said. His tone matched Adam’s for blankness. ‘Now I may be welcome to attend the town assemblies on account of my money, but there are some drawing rooms where I cannot enter—’ He broke off as he caught the ghost of a smile that passed between Adam and Edward. ‘I see you understand me, my lord. Society is a mighty tricky thing for a self-made man. So much snobbery…’
‘Disgraceful as it is,’ Adam said coolly, ‘I do not believe that I can change that for you, Ingram.’
A faint flush came to Ingram’s cheek. ‘Like I said, my lord, you may wish to reconsider. It would be embarrassing if I were to make public the details of your brother-in-law’s debt…’
Adam’s head came up sharply. ‘I understood that we had a gentleman’s agreement that the details would never be published, Ingram.’
Ingram spread his hands in a helpless gesture. ‘Not being a gentleman, my lord, I would not understand the principle of such a thing. However, I could learn very quickly if you were prepared to host a dinner for Venetia and myself, just as a start, like…’
Adam took a deep breath. This was blackmail, no more, no less. He had agreed to settle the debt and had thought that he had got off fairly lightly with the settlement that Lafoy had negotiated. Now he saw that that had just been the beginning. First there was the property. Ingram had chosen to strike when he knew that the Ashwicks were weak through payment of Tilney’s debt. He would whittle away at the Eynhallow lands to expand his own estate, making life a misery for the tenants and villagers should Adam choose to cut his losses and sell. Then there was the more intangible issue of influence. There was no doubt that Adam could, if he chose, bring Samuel Ingram and his wife into fashion. He had the social power to do so for, in a small society like Harrogate, plenty would follow his lead. He felt revolted at the thought. To have to compromise his own principles and toady to Ingram simply because his brother-in-law had made a bad business decision…It was intolerable. It was not just pride or snobbery talking, Adam thought furiously. He hated to be coerced by any man.
‘I am sorry but I cannot help you, Ingram,’ he said, very firmly. ‘I do not choose to enter Harrogate society myself and therefore cannot undertake to sponsor anyone else.’
Ingram shrugged. ‘No hasty decisions, lad. I am sure that you would not wish Lord Tilney’s poor judgement to become a matter for common tittle-tattle.’
Adam felt his temper slipping. ‘If you understood more about being a gentleman, Ingram, you would know why I say tell everyone and be damned!’ he said, through his teeth. ‘Although I would deplore your behaviour, I would not lower myself to comment upon it in public!’
Ingram’s mouth thinned to a tight line. ‘Well, well, my lord, there’s plain speaking! You might be so hardy, but what would your dear sister say? Such a charming lady, but not strong since her husband’s death…not strong at all.’
Once again there was a tense silence. Adam caught Edward’s look of mingled warning and disquiet. He knew his brother well and he knew that look. Ned was telling him to play for time, to give them a little breathing space. Adam made a final attempt to clamp down on his anger. An expression that was colder still hardened his lean, masculine features.
‘Very well, then, Ingram. I will give consideration to your proposals, but you must give me a little time.’
Ingram relaxed. ‘That is very sensible of you, lad. I’ll call again in a day or two. My Venetia is not a patient woman, you see, and would like an answer soon as maybe.’ His eyes narrowed to slits. ‘See to it, laddie.’
Adam gave him a stony look. ‘I hear you, Ingram.’
Edward moved across to the door and held it open. Ingram, showing the first signs of hesitation he had displayed all evening, paused for a moment before he marched through.
‘Good night, my lord. Good night, Reverend.’
He appeared to expect some response, but when none was forthcoming his expression hardened and he stomped out, his footsteps echoing across the stone flags of the floor.
There was an ominous calm in the study until the sound of Ingram’s footsteps had faded away and then the front door closed. Edward was the first to break the silence.
‘As well that Della had already retired for the night,’ he observed. ‘She can scarcely bring herself to be civil to Ing
ram if she has the misfortune of bumping into him. She ain’t weak, though! Ingram is barking up the wrong tree there!’
Adam’s face was a mask that splintered suddenly into vivid anger. ‘God damn the man! I feel like a fish wriggling on the end of his line!’
Edward took his brandy glass from his hand, moved over to the oak sideboard and poured more brandy for both of them.
‘Your metaphor is not apt,’ he said slowly. ‘I was watching you and a wolf at bay springs more easily to mind. Ingram should have a care not to push you too far.’
Adam took the proffered glass and stalked across to the fire, kicking a log deeper into the glowing embers. There was a hiss of flame.
‘Steady,’ Edward observed. ‘Hoby will never forgive you if you set fire to those boots, Ash. Besides, imagine the figure you would cut, hopping around on one leg as you try to remove them without the help of your valet! Not worth it, old fellow.’
Adam’s dark expression lightened with a glimmer of a smile, but he did not pause in his restless pacing. ‘If only there had been one iota of evidence to suggest that the business with the Northern Prince was not above board.’
‘Wishful thinking, old chap.’ Edward swallowed his brandy in one gulp. ‘The ship went down right enough. It was just our bad luck.’
‘Then if not that, how did Ingram persuade Humphrey to invest in the first place? Perhaps he was blackmailing him.’
Edward shook his head. ‘Ash, Humphrey may have shown bad judgement in borrowing heavily at a time of economic uncertainty, but sadly that was in character.’
Adam was silent. He knew that this was true.
He threw himself down in his armchair. ‘If I could find any suggestion that Ingram’s business dealings are illegal—’
‘Others have tried that. The man is too clever to be caught. Besides, just because Ingram is ruthless in business does not make his dealings illegal.’
Adam brought his fist down hard on the arm of his chair in impotent anger.
‘Damn it, Ned, the man is provably a blackmailer! What was he trying to do this evening?’
Edward shrugged. ‘I concede that, but his methods are cunning. He would say that all he has asked of you is a favour…’
‘And if I do not comply, he will drag Humphrey’s name through the mud.’ Adam swallowed a mouthful of brandy, frowning hard at the flames in the grate. ‘Well, devil take it, he will have to make good his threats. I will not become Ingram’s pet poodle and entertain him and his wife, and I am sure that Della will understand my reasons!’
‘You may find that Ingram has greater matters on his mind soon,’ Edward observed. ‘I hear he has offered the tenant farm at Shawes for an exorbitant rent. The villagers already hate him for enclosing Shawes Common, and if we have a poor summer and wages are low, that hatred will erupt.’
There was a silence, but for the sigh of the wind in the trees outside.
‘There was already trouble at one of the new tollhouses this week and it is only half-built.’ Adam frowned. ‘Do you think that matters will get worse, Ned?’ He knew that Edward, as Rector of Eynhallow, had far closer an understanding of what went on in Harrogate’s surrounding villages than any of the landowners could hope for.
‘We have all the ingredients.’ Edward looked grim. ‘If there is a food shortage and a poor harvest, there will be crime and unrest. We’ve seen it happen before, Ash. And Ingram is turning the screw on a populace already sunk in poverty. I have a bad feeling…’
‘It’s an interesting prospect, albeit it a damned unpleasant one.’ Adam shifted a little in his chair. ‘There’s already been the fire at Shawes.’
‘Arson,’ Edward said, nodding. ‘It was meant as a warning, but Ingram is so thick-skinned it would take more than that.’
‘What can we do?’
‘Keep an ear to the ground. If there is trouble in the villages, there may be a way to take advantage…’
Adam raised his brows. ‘Devil take it, little brother! Is that really a man of the cloth speaking?’
‘God helps those who help themselves,’ Edward said righteously.
‘Does he? I don’t believe I’ve ever read that bit of the Bible! Would it be next to the passage about men of God stirring up trouble from the pulpit?’
Edward looked positively angelic. ‘I am sure you overestimate my influence, Ash.’
‘I am sure that I do not.’ Adam gave him a straight look, which Edward met with one of his own.
‘Of course,’ he said reflectively, ‘we should dwell on the one matter that requires our gratitude…’
Adam raised his brows enquiringly.
‘That Ingram at least has no daughters of marriageable age!’ Edward said, with a grin. ‘Or we should both be leg-shackled before you could say thirty thousand pounds in debt!’
‘It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase parson’s mousetrap,’ Adam agreed gravely.
The weather broke the following night and it rained for the whole of the next day, putting Fanny and Lucy in a fretful mood and echoing Annis’s own feelings of gloom. She sat on the window seat in the drawing room, watching the rain streak the glass and the passers-by hurry along the pavements, head into the wind, umbrellas held before them like bayonets. Fanny and Lucy picked at their needlework and chattered. Annis sat quietly, wishing that Adam would call and reminding herself that he would not since she had specifically asked him not to. Nevertheless, she missed him.
In the evening they were invited to dinner at Hansard Court, Sir Everard Doble’s home just outside Harrogate. It was both an opportunity for Fanny to inspect the house and for the widowed Lady Doble to inspect her prospective daughter-in-law, and everyone was on tenterhooks. The dinner was poor and the house dark and dismal, but Fanny’s desire for a title outweighed all else and she sparkled, making Annis wince with only a few ill-mannered remarks. After dinner, whilst Fanny entertained them on the pianoforte, Lady Doble plumped herself down next to Annis on the sofa.
‘The chit will do well enough, I suppose.’ Lady Doble did not trouble to lower her voice, and Annis reflected that her future mother-in-law might almost outdo Fanny in vulgarity. ‘How much money will she be bringing?’
‘Forty thousand pounds,’ Annis said, lowering her voice.
‘Forty thousand, eh?’ Lady Doble bellowed. ‘Perfect!’
After that it was only a matter of form for Sir Everard to whisk Fanny off to the conservatory to propose and to be accepted. Annis left Hansard Court feeling deeply relieved for a great many reasons, and wrote to Sir Robert Crossley that very night.
It was Miss Lucy Crossley’s turn to receive a declaration the following week, when Barnaby Norwood came up to scratch and delivered himself of a romantic proposal in the drawing room. Annis congratulated Lucy wholeheartedly, wrote a second letter to Sir Robert, and felt almost euphoric with relief. Even Fanny, whose pride was satisfied to be marrying a baronet rather than a mere Honourable, was gracious to her little sister.
The Monday night ball the following week took place at the Dragon and both Crossley sisters were boasting about their engagements. It was another humid night. Annis sat amongst the chaperons, fanning herself ineffectually and wishing that she had not chosen turkey red for her gown that evening. With the current heat it was likely to be a close match for her face. The combination of a crowded ballroom, a hundred candles and a hot summer night was not a happy one. Even the feather in her turban was wilting.
She turned her head slowly to scan the dance floor. Lucy was dancing the quadrille with a half-pay officer, but was behaving with the perfect decorum of a girl whose future was already assured. Barnaby Norwood was watching indulgently and chatting to a group of fellow officers. Annis smiled to herself. Lucy was a sweet girl and deserved her happiness. Fanny was dancing with Sir Everard and looking very pleased with herself. Annis’s smile became a little cynical. Fanny knew that all eyes were upon her, envying her the good luck and forty thousand pounds that had secured Sir Everard’s title
.
The door to the ballroom opened and a number of latecomers pressed their way into the throng. The Master of Ceremonies was bowing and scraping, and Annis’s smile turned wry as she recognised the new arrivals. Samuel Ingram and his youthful wife Venetia were always warmly welcomed to the town’s social events. It mattered little that Ingram was the son of a lighthouse keeper and the beautiful Venetia was a first-rate shrew. Their money, like Sir Robert Crossley’s, cast a golden glow.
There were those who disapproved, of course. Annis’s position amongst the chaperons gave her the perfect opportunity to witness the tight-lipped displeasure of some of the town’s high sticklers. Old Lady Cardew and Lady Emily Trumpton were whispering malignantly like a pair of witches. Annis caught the phrases ‘appalling drop in standards’ and ‘any old riff-raff at these events’. There were some circles in which the Ingrams would never be welcome. The Cardews and Trumptons would never invite them to grace their drawing rooms.
Following Mr and Mrs Ingram through the door were Charles, Sibella and David. Annis felt a mixture of strong affection and annoyance. She could not bear the way in which Charles in particular was in Ingram’s pocket, and at times like this it stuck in her throat to see her family in Ingram’s retinue. She was guiltily aware that she had been avoiding Charles since the issue of the sale of Starbeck had arisen. She had pleaded her work as an excuse and had been glad to put him off. Now she rather suspected Charles would press his case. What was worse was that she would be obliged to do the pretty to the Ingrams tonight for Charles’s sake. Samuel Ingram always treated her with courtesy and Annis had a suspicion that he did so because of her title and because he was not sure of her exact social position. She had to work for a living, but the fact that she was a Marquis’s granddaughter and the widow of a knight certainly confused the issue in his eyes.
The country dance ended and Annis watched as Sir Everard offered Fanny his arm and guided her over to an alcove where they could converse together. Fanny was behaving very pleasantly that evening, but Annis knew better than to take her gaze off her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Lucy was now dancing with Lieutenant Norwood, and a very pretty pair they made. Annis relaxed slightly. From that point of view the evening was going well.
The Chaperon Bride (Harlequin Historical) Page 12
