The Lady Fan Series: Books 1-3 (Sapere Books Boxset Editions)

by Elizabeth Bailey

  As Ottilia reached the French window, she attracted Tamasine’s wide smile and the child gestured with excitement to the man standing a little behind her, who looked to be young and personable. A wild presentiment shot into Ottilia’s brain as to his identity and she hastened to unlatch the door and pull it open.

  “I have brought Simeon to see you,” said Tamasine without the slightest preamble. “I said he would come.”

  “You did indeed.” Ottilia was pleased to find her surmise had been correct as she took in the fellow’s dark good looks. “Mr Roy, I think? Do come inside, both of you.”

  Moving aside to allow the two access, Ottilia took stock of this Simeon about whom she had heard so much. He entered, moving with a natural grace and ease that was reflected in his smile.

  “How do you do, Lady Fan?”

  His drawling voice was as rich as the molasses he had no doubt had occasion to make in Barbados, and his confident figure held something of a swagger. He wore his dark hair loose, in the shaggy cut currently in vogue among young men. His lips were full, his nose straight and his eyes, in which a gleam of calculation was immediately apparent, were a liquid brown. Ottilia wrote him down as a charming rogue.

  His use of her nickname gave rise to a slight feeling of antipathy, but since he must have had it from Tamasine, she did not trouble to correct him. She took time with an introduction to the dowager, over whose hand Simeon Roy bowed with exaggerated courtesy.

  “Tamasine has given me an account of your kindness to her, ma’am, upon the occasion of her accident.”

  Sybilla’s reception was frosty. “Indeed? I had not thought Miss Roy recalled the occasion.”

  Mr Roy’s smile would have melted butter. “Oh, she tells me everything, ma’am. We are avid correspondents.”

  The blatant untruth of this assertion struck Ottilia at once. Even could Tamasine write, which was in serious doubt, any such intimacy must have been clandestine, considering Sir Joslin’s views. And if Ottilia was any judge, Tamasine was incapable of the needed secrecy.

  She urged the visitors to sit down, and was not surprised to see Simeon dispose himself upon the sofa in an attitude of careless languor. Tamasine immediately took up a position beside him, her blue eyes fixed upon his handsome face.

  “Tamasine tells me, Lady Fan, that you have been of invaluable assistance in this tragic hour.”

  Unlikely as it was that the child could have expressed herself in such a fashion, Ottilia took it as if at face value. “I am happy to have been of service, but I believe Miss Ingleby is more than capable of dealing with any matters which may arise.”

  A faint look of scorn crossed the young man’s features. “Oh, Lavinia is efficiency itself. Yet she will be relieved of her responsibilities soon enough.”

  Sybilla cut in without ceremony. “By whom? Yourself, for instance, Mr Roy?”

  Simeon Roy threw up hands of mock horror. “I? Heaven forbid! The last thing in the world I could wish is to be saddled with settling affairs at Willow Court.”

  “Yet you are here.”

  He fetched an elaborate sigh. “I could hardly absent myself at such a moment. With my cousin in need of my support? No, no, ma’am, it would be cruel in me to refuse her plea.”

  Ottilia raised her brows. “Tamasine asked you to come?”

  Simeon was smiling into the girl’s adoring eyes. “Her entreaties could not be ignored, could they, my dear little Tam?”

  Tamasine’s blue gaze roved his features. “I knew you would come.”

  Which was scarcely a straightforward affirmation, and Tamasine had said as much to Ottilia days since. She watched the young man raise a hand to lift the girl’s chin a little, a teasing note entering his liquid voice.

  “How could I resist you? You know well I am as wax in your hands.”

  A delighted ripple of Tamasine’s bell-like laugh emerged and she caught his fingers in both hands, clutching them tightly. “Simeon, Simeon, Simeon. If they don’t like it, we will hide from them, and Hemp will tell them we have run away.”

  “Ah, now, that is an excellent plan, Tam,” said her cousin in an indulgent fashion, but he withdrew his fingers from her grasp and wagged a finger in her face. “But I have a better one.”

  Tamasine’s eagerness was child-like. “What is it?”

  “That you shall know presently.”

  Ottilia thought this air of mystery must be deliberate. She could not but acknowledge that Simeon appeared to be adept at handling Tamasine’s wayward manner. She sought a way to prick through his self-satisfaction.

  “Am I right in thinking that it is some time since the two of you have met, Mr Roy?”

  He was not in the least disconcerted, merely fetching another sigh. “Alas, yes. But we have contrived nevertheless to remain the best of friends as well as cousins, have we not, my pet?”

  Thus appealed to, Tamasine added her mite, turning to look at Ottilia. “Simeon writes to me all the time.”

  “And do you write back?” asked Sybilla shrewdly, sending a glance of question in Ottilia’s direction.

  Tamasine did not trouble to answer, her attention once more taken up by the young man at her side. But Simeon Roy’s expressive countenance turned to the dowager, comprehension in his gaze.

  “Oh, she can write, ma’am. After a fashion. Can you not, my pet?” His glance caressed the child before returning to Sybilla. “Tamasine uses pictures rather than letters. She is quite an artist, and her illustrations are perfectly to be understood, by those who best know her mind.”

  Secretly impressed by the young man’s swift understanding and his open acknowledgement of Tamasine’s difficulties, Ottilia was yet unable to count him other than a rascal. She might be tempted to discount Miss Ingleby’s intense disapprobation, had she not also Cuffy’s testimony. She probed gently.

  “Was it Tamasine who told you of Sir Joslin’s death then, Mr Roy?”

  “Not at all, ma’am. I have lately been staying with my cousin Ruth, and I was there when Lavinia’s express arrived.”

  “You mean Mrs Delabole?”

  “Precisely, ma’am. I confess my natural grief at the news was tempered by the thought of being able to see Tamasine again. But Ruth’s shock was so severe, I felt it a mercy I happened to be there.”

  Ottilia threw her immediate suspicions into the open. “Are you in the habit of visiting Mrs Delabole?”

  The young man spread his hands, looking rueful. “Sadly, no. And I will admit that poor Ruth was by no means delighted, but she took pity on me nevertheless.”

  “You were not welcome? Now why, I wonder, Mr Roy?”

  His brows rose. “Why, I should have thought that was obvious. Ruth was a fond sister and she knew of my falling out with Cousin Matt. Still I hoped to persuade Ruth to intercede with Joslin on my behalf.”

  “Joslin would not let Simeon come,” put in Tamasine. “I wanted him to come.”

  Simeon spread his hands again. “You see? The moment I knew Tamasine was in England, I wrote to Joslin for permission to visit her.”

  “Which he refused?” queried the dowager.

  The young man turned to Sybilla, his smile wry. “Old prejudices are hard to break, ma’am. I was but a youth when I left Barbados, you must know. Yet I failed to persuade Joslin of my change of heart.”

  “Dear me, Mr Roy,” said Ottilia lightly, “you assume knowledge on our part which we do not have. We had heard from Tamasine that you were forbidden the house by Sir Joslin, but we are ignorant of the reason.”

  Simeon gave vent to a laugh in which surprise and ruefulness were neatly blended. “Oh, dear, and I had so nearly confessed my sins. You must forgive me. The peccadilloes of one’s youth are apt to haunt, and it is hard to remember anyone involved with the family could be ignorant of them.”

  “Well, we are wholly ignorant,” said Sybilla flatly. “And I daresay it will suit us all better if we were to remain so.”

  “Oh, believe me, ma’am, I had far rather nothing
of the matter was spoken of outside the family. Only my little Tam here is nothing if not confiding, and since you, Lady Fan, have befriended her, it did not seem to me possible that she had not acquainted you with all.”

  Tamasine had been all the while an interested spectator of the discussion, but at this, she turned her blinding smile upon Ottilia. “I should like you to know all my secrets.”

  “Well, that is extremely generous of you, Tamasine, but I think we must allow your cousin his privacy.” Without giving either a chance to reply, she turned the subject. “Is Mrs Delabole then with you? Did you escort her here?”

  For the first time, she noted a faint look of chagrin creep into the fellow’s eyes. Had he wanted the conversation to continue upon the topic of his misdeeds? He recovered himself swiftly, throwing in another one of those deprecating smiles.

  “I offered to do so, but Ruth would not hear of it. Realising she might be here some time, she had perforce to make arrangements for her absence at home. She has a numerous family, you must know, and it is not a simple matter for her to drop everything at a moment’s notice.”

  “So you came on ahead?” Sybilla surmised.

  Once again, Simeon Roy cast an eye verging almost on the avuncular upon the young girl at his side. “I rushed to the rescue in the shortest possible order.”

  It occurred to Ottilia to wonder whether Mrs Delabole’s rejection of his escort had rather concerned itself with Sir Joslin’s prohibition of Simeon’s presence at Willow Court. Had the young man come here against her wishes? Had he seized his chance, knowing she was preoccupied, and made haste to plant himself in the place ahead of her arrival?

  Before she could think how to introduce a question of this nature, the front door bell was heard to peal and Tamasine jumped up, running to the French windows.

  “Simeon, come quick! Before Lavinia catches us.”

  But he remained just where he was. “If you suppose I am afraid of Lavinia, my dear little Tam, you much mistake the matter. Come back and sit down.”

  Tamasine did no such thing, instead thrusting open the door and looking out into the garden, as if she thought to see her duenna approaching the house by that way.

  Simeon gestured in her direction, casting a deprecating glance at the two ladies and lowering his voice. “Lord knows what fears have been inculcated in the child’s diseased mind.”

  This was the first time any member of the Willow Court household had spoken overtly of Tamasine’s derangement. Miss Ingleby had ceased pretence, but such remarks as she let fall were veiled. Ottilia, who had been scathing of the pretence, found herself subject to a bewildering change of face when confronted by this blatant admission. She was spared having to answer by Sybilla’s testy demand.

  “Pray will you at least induce the child to close the door, sir, before we all freeze to death?”

  Uttering an apology as spurious, Ottilia suspected, as his earlier sincerity, Mr Roy leapt to his feet and went after his cousin. He had just succeeded in persuading her to re-enter the room and close the door when Biddy entered to announce the visitor.

  “Miss Ingleby.”

  The companion swept into the room, her eyes flashing at the couple by the French windows. She did not even trouble to utter a word of greeting or apology to the inmates of the Dower House, but scarcely waited for the door to close behind the maid before discharging her spleen.

  “So, you are come, are you? How dare you flout Joslin’s expressed wish? Lord knows I did not expect to return from the inquest only to find you encouraging the child to disobedience. I told you to stay in your room, Tamasine.”

  “I won’t,” retorted the child wildly. “You can’t make me.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Miss Ingleby started towards her, but Simeon Roy stepped forward to intercept her.

  “Let her alone, Lavinia. She wanted to introduce me to her friend, Lady Fan, that is all. She has come to no harm.”

  “I don’t need you to tell me that, Simeon Roy,” began Miss Ingleby furiously.

  She was interrupted. Sybilla rose with a swish of her skirts, her tone biting. “That will do!” All three countenances, redolent with surprise, turned towards her. “I have no knowledge of the manners obtaining in Barbados, I am happy to say,” continued the dowager on an acid note, “but in England, it is not the custom to indulge in a quarrel in your neighbour’s parlour.” Her irate gaze turned upon the hapless duenna. “In particular, before you have even had the grace to acknowledge the presence of your hostess.”

  Miss Ingleby flushed, but her tone remained belligerent. “In that case, ma’am, perhaps you might with advantage teach your daughter-in-law to refrain from unwarranted interference in your neighbour’s lives.”

  Sybilla drew herself up. “Are you telling me how to run my family?”

  “Why not? Lady Francis makes no bones about telling me how to run mine.”

  Simeon Roy threw up his hands. “Ladies! Ladies! Pray do not come to blows, for I will take the fault to myself.”

  The dowager left off glaring at the duenna and swept the young man a scorching glance. But before she could unleash her fury, he had stepped up to Miss Ingleby, catching at her unquiet hands.

  “Lavinia, I confess myself wholly at fault. Forgive me!”

  The woman snatched her fingers from his grasp. “Don’t touch me! You need not think to cozen me, Simeon. Those days are long gone.”

  “But not forgotten, my dear.”

  He had the temerity to laugh — a foolhardy proceeding, in Ottilia’s opinion. So indeed it proved, for Miss Ingleby’s eyes narrowed to slits of rage and her voice came low and vibrant.

  “Would you taunt me thus? After what you attempted? Oh, for all your protestations, you have changed not one iota, Simeon Roy. You will not win this prize, I promise you.”

  With which, she stormed past him, seized Tamasine’s wrist and dragged her to the French windows, utterly ignoring the girl’s shrieking protests. Being all too well acquainted with Miss Ingleby’s moods, Ottilia refrained from interfering as the woman turned the handle and wrenched open the door. But she was surprised that Simeon Roy did nothing, merely watching the two women, a look on his face of complete unconcern, even amusement.

  The door closed behind them, cutting down the noise. As it faded, Sybilla turned her irate glance on the young man. “Well, sir?”

  Simeon swung round, his features instantly taking on that deprecating look at which he appeared to be well practised. “My dear ma’am, I must beg to offer you my abject apologies. On behalf of Lavinia, more nearly than my poor little cousin. She cannot help herself. But Lavinia, I fear, is sorely beset. She was over-fond of Joslin.”

  “How do you know that, Mr Roy?” demanded Ottilia at once, at last rising from where she had remained an interested spectator of this revealing scene. “You have not been in Barbados for some little time, I gather.”

  Simeon’s confidence did not falter. “My dear Lady Fan, I thought I had made it abundantly clear that Tamasine had kept me informed of all that went on within the family.”

  “And you believed her without question? Despite knowing that her view of events must necessarily be wholly subjective?”

  He sighed. “You are right, of course. Tamasine sees everything in life as it concerns herself. But we were so very close, you see. I have learned to read between the lines.”

  “However that may be, sir,” said Sybilla, once more entering the lists and by no means mollified, “I must request you not to bring the girl here again. I will not be subjected to rudeness a second time.”

  Mr Roy bowed. “Your objection is perfectly understandable, ma’am. I will endeavour to keep Tamasine from disturbing you.”

  “If she should wish for me, Mr Roy,” Ottilia put in quickly, having no desire to be excluded, “be so kind as to send to me, and I will come over to Willow Court.”

  He raised his brows. “My dear ma’am, do you think that advisable? With Lavinia in her present
humour, there is no saying what may happen. I am in dread of the moment when she discovers that our little Tam has engaged herself to your grandson, Lady Polbrook.”

  Chapter 11

  Sybilla’s features whitened. “What? It’s a lie!”

  Ottilia was in no less shock than her mother-in-law, but she took this up at once. “Do you know this for a fact, Mr Roy?”

  “Since Lord Bennifield himself confirmed it to me a little before we came across, I have no reason to doubt it.”

  With which, he bowed in a perfunctory fashion and took himself off through the door to the garden, so swiftly that Ottilia at once decided he had made the announcement deliberately in order to throw the cat among the pigeons. The match was evidently not to Simeon Roy’s liking. It did not take much imagination to work out why.

  She moved to ensure the door was latched, hearing Sybilla break out behind her.

  “Is there no end to the foolishness of the men in my family? Like father, like son! What in heaven’s name should take the boy to engage himself to that lunatic? He is plainly besotted!”

  “Yes, but I doubt that was his reason,” Ottilia cut in before the dowager could get into her stride.

  “Reason? I am minded to think him as mad as the girl!”

  Ottilia came back into the room. “Calm yourself, ma’am, I beg of you. I shall count myself astonished if anything comes of this betrothal.”

  “It most certainly will not, if I have anything to say to it.”

  “I don’t doubt you have everything to say to it,” said Ottilia with a flash of merriment. Her mother-in-law’s irate gaze turned upon her and she quickly held up her hands in a gesture of peace. “No, don’t rip up at me, Sybilla. Well as I understand your feelings, we will achieve nothing by your flying into a fury.”

  The black eyes caught fire and for a moment Ottilia thought she had gone too far. Then the dowager let out a sigh and sank back among the cushions, momentarily closing her eyes. Ottilia waited in silence. At length, her mother-in-law spoke again, her tone grudging, if more moderate.

  “You are right as usual. I must strive, I suppose, not to visit my dissatisfaction with Randal upon his son.”