A Matter of Duty (7 page)

A
s Kit sat pondering what he’d heard in the next room, Geoffrey Lawrence was driving through the darkness and rain toward Brentford. He was wet and uncomfortable, and knew he’d have shown more wisdom by remaining in town for another night, but he’d promised himself the serving girl at the Green Dragon. The demimondaine had provided him with something of a diversion, but he hadn’t been able to put Louisa Cherington out of his mind; maybe the more rustic charms of a tavern wench would go some way toward slaking the thirst the governess had aroused in him.

He’d had a good day, apart from the discomfort now caused by the atrocious weather. His interview with Lord Palmerston had gone so well that he’d been promised promotion, and he’d sold the
Cyclops
to Rowe for a handsome-enough price to see the duns off. It had been as he’d guessed: Rowe was so anxious to get even with Highclare over the loss of the
Mercury
that he hadn’t quibbled at all over the asking price.

Rowe had been in a sour mood when Geoffrey had first called, and seemed to be in considerable pain from an arm wound, the result, so he said, of an unfortunate hunting mishap. Geoffrey hadn’t been entirely convinced, for there’d been something a little odd about Rowe’s manner, as if he was concealing something. It seemed more likely that the wound was the result of a duel; there’d been whispers about a duel on Lord Holland’s estate in Kensington that very morning. Still, what did it matter how he received the wound? He’d bought the
Cyclops
, and the duns could be paid off.

Geoffrey grinned to himself as he tooled the horses on through the rain. Yes, things had gone well, even to the point of his having dared to ask Rowe if he could accompany him to Cowes for the regatta, and so pleased had Rowe been at the prospect of gaining revenge upon Highclare that he’d readily agreed. Geoffrey cracked the whip, urging the horses to greater effort. If he’d managed to conquer Louisa Cherington the night before, he’d have been completely satisfied; but there was time yet, maybe he’d still be able to have his way with her.

At last he reached Brentford and soon saw the Green Dragon’s sign ahead. Slowing the team, he turned the light curricle into the inn yard, reining thankfully in. If the damned serving girl wasn’t here, he supposed he’d have to take a room for the night, the weather was too foul to consider continuing to Lawrence Park.

Alighting, he thrust the reins into the hands of a groom and then approached the taproom door, noticing as he did so the sign fixed above it. New ownership? He trusted that wouldn’t hamper his plans.

He entered the inn and glanced around for the serving girl. The new landlord espied him immediately. A beam spread across the man’s face, and he came quickly over to Geoffrey. ‘Captain Lawrence?’ he inquired.

Geoffrey stared at him, caught off guard. How did the fellow know his name? ‘Yes?’

‘Welcome to the Green Dragon, sir. The lady awaits you in the principal bedchamber. If you will come this way?’

‘Lady? What lady?’ Geoffrey was wary. What was all this about?

The landlord was a little puzzled. Didn’t he know who he was meeting? It was a little irregular. ‘She didn’t give a name, sir, but she said that she was expecting you and that when you arrived you were to be shown up to her. She’s ordered a very handsome cold supper and some champagne.’

Geoffrey’s wariness increased. ‘No one’s
expecting
me. There must be some mistake.’

The landlord was fast becoming tired of the whole matter, but he kept his smile. ‘The lady
is
expecting you, sir. Very definitely so.’

‘Could you describe her to me?’

The man gaped. ‘Describe her, sir?’ How many ladies could there be who might risk staying at an inn on his account?

‘Yes, dunderhead! Describe her.’

‘Well, she has black hair and is what I’d call very beautiful indeed. She’s dressed handsomely – quite the tippy, in fact. She’s most certainly a lady, sir.’

It had to be Anne. ‘Did she come in a dark-red landau?’

‘Yes, sir.’

It
was
Anne. Geoffrey’s lips pressed angrily together. No doubt she’d sunk so low as to quiz the damned butler!

The landlord looked uncertainly at him. ‘Do – do you wish to be shown up to her, sir?’ he inquired, picking up a lighted candlestick.

‘Just tell me which room she’s in,’ replied Geoffrey, almost snatching the candlestick from him.

‘But, sir—’

‘Which room is it?’ snapped Geoffrey impatiently.

‘The one facing you at the top of the stairs,’ replied the man quickly, indicating the low doorway.

Without another word, Geoffrey strode toward it, the candle flame streaming and smoking. His spurs jingled on the steps and his shadow swayed over the walls. He paused when he reached the top. The door was right in front of him. His eyes were dark with anger and his lips a thin line as without ceremony he flung the door open and went in.

Anne sat up with a startled gasp. She’d been reclining on the sumptuous four-poster bed with its crimson, gold-fringed hangings. Her curvaceous figure was outlined by her soft, lemon muslin wrap, and her raven hair was brushed loose. The cold supper and champagne the landlord had mentioned had been set out on a small table, lighted by a solitary candle, and the draft caused by his entry made this flame to sway wildly, sending gyrating shadows leaping around the room.

She recovered a little. ‘Don’t you know you should knock first?’ she said softly.

‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded, kicking the door to behind him.

‘I’m waiting for you, of course.’

‘I don’t like being snooped upon, Stepmama.’ He knew she hated it when he addressed her in this way.

Her eyes flashed. ‘Don’t call me that!’

‘Why not? It’s what you are.’ He put the candlestick down and then stood looking coldly at her, his hands on his hips.

She got up from the bed, her shapely legs revealed for a moment as the wrap parted. ‘Don’t be peevish, dear,’ she murmured, going to the table. ‘Have some champagne, it’s surprisingly good for a mere inn.’ She poured a glass and brought it to him.

Her perfume drifted over him, warm and flowery. Once it had stirred him, but now it was cloying. He ignored the glass. ‘I don’t want to see you, Anne.’

‘No, I’ll warrant you don’t,’ she replied, an edge to her voice. ‘I suppose you’re disappointed
she
isn’t here.’

‘She? What are you talking about?’

‘Your dear Miss Cherington, of course.’

He stared at her. Somehow she’d found out about the summerhouse last night. He gave a derisory laugh. ‘My dear Anne, if I
had
been expecting Miss Cherington to be in this room, I would indeed be damned disappointed to find only you, for you’re a very poor substitute.’

Her breath caught and she tossed the champagne at him. ‘How dare you!’

He wiped his face, his eyes coldly furious as he looked at her. ‘You’re a tiresomely obvious woman, Anne. You’ve made yourself too available, and I find that boring. Louisa Cherington, on the other hand, is very
un
available, and that makes her much more intriguing and exciting.’

Bitter jealousy burned on her face. ‘Indeed? Well, perhaps you’d like to know that she’s soon to leave Lawrence Park. Your father’s agreed to send Emma to school in Kensington, which means that there won’t been any need for your precious Miss Cherington.’

‘I don’t believe you. My father would never agree to send Emma away.’

‘He consented this morning, after another execrable display of indiscipline from the precious brat.’

‘What did you do to her this time?’ he inquired dryly.

‘Very little.’ Anne’s smile was tight and cool. ‘She’s to be told tomorrow morning that she’s being sent to school in Kensington before the end of the week. She’d know already were it not that your father had business to attend to all day, and it is his wish that he and I tell her together what has been decided on her behalf.’

‘
Her
behalf? Methinks you exaggerate, Stepmama,’ he said mockingly.

‘She’ll be leaving Lawrence Park very shortly,’ she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘and so will her wretched governess, for whom there will no longer be any requirement.’ Her eyes glittered. ‘Poor Miss Cherington, how pinched she’ll be to find her clever plans thwarted at the eleventh hour. I rather think she had notions of becoming the next Lady Lawrence, but instead she’s to remain a mere governess. What a shame. Or is there sufficient of the trollop in her for her to be satisfied with just being your mistress? What’s the price she sets on her favors, Geoffrey, dear? A little house in some reasonable street in town? Or is she holding out for a ring?’

‘I don’t think it’s the governess who’s pinched, Stepmama; it’s your good self. I’m flattered that you’re so jealous of my every move that you’re prepared to go to such lengths. What a pity your activities have all been in vain, for nothing you’ve done is going to stop me enjoying Louisa Cherington, you may be sure of that.’

She flushed again. ‘No? I wonder what your father would say if he found out about your advances toward a mere governess? His son bedding a servant? Ashley wouldn’t approve at all, and I’m quite prepared to tell him, make no mistake about that.’

‘And I’d be quite prepared to tell him about us, my dear. Dare you risk that? I doubt it.’ His scornful glance moved toward the supper table. ‘What a waste,’ he murmured, ‘for, to be sure, you’ll have to eat it all yourself. I came here tonight to enjoy feminine charms, but certainly not yours, and I still intend to enjoy myself. Good night, dear Stepmama.’ Picking up the candle again, he strode out, slamming the door behind him.

Anne remained where she was. She was quivering with fury, so angry that for a moment she couldn’t move. Then she went to the table, furiously sweeping everything off. The candle was knocked over and the room was immediately engulfed in darkness.

Kit listened to the commotion. He’d heard every word from the moment Geoffrey had entered. So that was the way of it at Lawrence Park; the question was, how innocent – or guilty – was Louisa Cherington?

He swirled his glass of wine. Was he making a grave mistake in honoring his promise to Tom? What manner of creature was he going to find waiting at Lawrence Park in the morning? Was she a virtuous damsel in danger of falling into the evil clutches of a practiced libertine? Or was she a scheming, conniving fortune-seeker with ambitions of one day becoming the mistress of Lawrence Park?

Kit leaned his head back. He’d have to rely on his own judgment when the time came, and unfortunately it had always been Tom’s contention that where the fair sex was concerned, Christopher, Lord Highclare, was a very poor judge.

T
he next morning was cool and unsettled. Low clouds scudded across the sky, and the wind soughed through the trees as Anne’s dark-red landau splashed through the puddles on its way to Lawrence Park. Geoffrey still languished in the obliging arms of his plump serving girl as Anne gazed coldly out of the carriage window. She’d been humiliated last night, and he was going to pay dearly. She’d bide her time, like a cat stalking its prey, and when the chance presented itself, she’d pounce. He’d rue the day he’d chosen to two-time her.

The landau reached Lawrence Park, and she alighted quickly. The plumes in her sky-blue velvet hat fluttered as she paused, looking icily beautiful in a blue sprigged muslin dress and matching pelisse. She directed a cold gaze down toward the summerhouse and the river steps, where Louisa and Emma were walking, their mantles flapping in the damp summer breeze. Their laughter carried faintly to her and she gave a tight smile. Let them laugh while they could, for very shortly they’d have little to laugh about. Gathering her skirts, she continued into the house, going directly to the breakfast room, where she knew she’d find Ashley lingering over his newspaper. She didn’t intend to allow him an inch, he had to be held precisely to his word of the day before, and his daughter and the governess were to be faced with their respective fates the moment they returned.

By the summerhouse, Louisa had no notion of what was about to happen. The brim of her gypsy hat tugged in the wind, and the wide ribbons fluttered beneath her chin. Her beige linen mantle billowed as the breeze swept up over the river steps, and the hem of her pink-and-white checkered gown beneath was revealed now and then. She felt in oddly low spirits, although she was endeavoring to hide it. She’d dreamed about Tom the night before, and it had been a sad dream, the sort that was forgotten the moment one awakened, but that left a very depressing atmosphere.

Emma’s spirits weren’t low, she was enjoying the rather unladylike pastime of tossing stones into the narrow strip of water between the
Cyclops
and the foot of the steps. A few raindrops were carried on the wind, and she looked up as Louisa called to her that they must return to the house. ‘Oh, must we? Can’t we sit in the summerhouse?’

‘No, we must go back to the schoolroom and get on with your lessons. Your stepmother has returned; I saw her landau a minute or so ago.’

Emma’s face became surly at the mention of her stepmother, but she left the river steps and came to slip her hand in Louisa’s. They began to walk back through the grounds, but then the rain became heavier and so they ran. Emma laughed at the rain, and Louisa began to laugh too, but as they dashed up the portico steps and into the entrance hall, their laughter was immediately silenced, for Anne and Sir Ashley stood waiting for them.

Sir Ashley wore his green paisley dressing gown and tasseled cap, and he looked decidedly unhappy. Beside him, Anne was spitefully triumphant; the moment had come at last, and she was going to enjoy every vindictive second.

Emma moved instinctively closer to Louisa, knowing that something awful was about to happen. Her large eyes fled from Anne to her father. ‘Papa? What is it?’

‘Go to the schoolroom, Emma.’

‘But, Papa….’

Anne’s eyes flashed. ‘Do as your father tells you, missy,’ she snapped.

Emma flinched, but obeyed. Louisa went to follow her, thinking that they were both in disgrace for having indulged in a promenade rather than morning lessons, but Anne’s hard voice halted her.

‘We wish to speak to you, Miss Cherington. Please wait in the library.’

Slowly Louisa turned. The light in the other woman’s eyes told her that it had happened at last, Sir Ashley had given in to all the pressure about sending his daughter away. Without a word, Louisa went to the library.

The library was on the ground floor, facing north toward the lodge and the London road, and was a dark, cheerless room. Its walls were lined from floor to ceiling with shelves laden with fine volumes, all of them bound especially for Sir Ashley in brown gold-embossed leather. There were dark-green velvet curtains at the tall windows, and a vast marble fireplace above which was a portrait of Sir Ashley as a young man. A large cut-crystal bowl of pink roses stood in the hearth before a Chinese lacquered fire screen, and the smell of old leather was heavy from both the hundreds of books and the deep armchairs and sofa.

Louisa took off her damp mantle and gypsy hat and went to stand by the rain-spattered window, staring across the park toward the highway. A stagecoach was driving westward, its outside passengers huddled against the inclement August weather.

The minutes ticked away and no one came. She glanced at the golden, glass-domed clock on the mantelpiece. What was happening? Why hadn’t anyone come? Suddenly she heard faint cries echoing through the house. It was Emma, and she sounded frightened and distressed. Dismay flooded through Louisa. Emma needed her! Gathering her skirts, she began to hurry to the door, but even as she did so, it opened and Anne came silently in, closing it behind her.

‘I trust you weren’t about to leave the room, Miss Cherington, for you were expressly instructed to wait here.’

‘I thought I heard Emma crying.

‘You did, but she’s no longer any concern of yours.’ Anne went to the sofa and sat down, arranging her sprigged muslin skirt very carefully and then clasping her hands coolly in her lap.

Sir Ashley’s steps could be heard approaching, and then he too came in, but unlike his wife, he looked pale and upset, having found Emma’s great distress a considerable strain. He glanced at Anne’s coldly set lips and chill eyes, and knew that he had to see this through to the very end, otherwise his life would be made unbearable. He went to the fireplace, standing with his back toward it as he looked at Louisa. ‘Miss Cherington, we’ve been giving Emma’s well-being a great deal of thought in recent weeks, and it is our decision that she be sent to the seminary in Kensington. The move will take place without delay.’

Louisa looked at him in consternation. ‘Sir Ashley, you must not do it. Emma needs to be here with you.’

Anne raised a disapproving eyebrow. ‘Are you presuming to question our decision, Miss Cherington?’

‘It – it’s just that …’ Louisa’s voice died away. Yes, she
was 
presuming to question the decision, because it was a very bad decision indeed for a child like poor little Emma.

‘It rather seems, Miss Cherington,’ went on Anne, ‘that you are more concerned about yourself than you are about Emma. Am I not right?’

‘No, Lady Lawrence,’ replied Louisa, endeavoring to hide the anger this unwarranted charge aroused. ‘I’m thinking of Emma, who will be utterly miserable if she’s sent away from Sir Ashley.’ She looked imploringly at Emma’s father. ‘Please, sir, reconsider your decision. Send me away if you’re displeased with my services, but don’t send your daughter away, she loves and needs you.’

He shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like the decision – second thoughts had beset him from the moment he’d made it – but to have it questioned by the governess merely made him feel obliged to dig his heels in. ‘Miss Cherington, the decision has been made for Emma’s good, her recent behavior has been far from acceptable.’

Louisa defended her absent charge. ‘She – she’s merely a little exuberant, Sir Ashley,’ she said, darting an accusing look at Anne, whose fault all this was.

Anne had had enough. With a gasp of outrage, she looked expectantly at her husband. ‘Are you going to stand there and allow a servant to question what you decide? Dismiss her immediately!’

Sir Ashley gave a start, as if she’d jabbed him with a pin. He looked sternly at Louisa. ‘I won’t be taken to task by an employee, Miss Cherington. Your services are dispensed with from this very moment. I want you to leave Lawrence Park straightaway, and so I suggest that you repair immediately to your room to pack your belongings. You will not be given a reference, since you don’t deserve one, but you’ll be paid whatever is owed to you, and a pony and trap will be provided to convey you to Brentford. What you do and where you go after that is no concern of mine.’

Anne smiled with cold satisfaction. ‘And don’t think of speaking to Emma before you go, Miss Cherington, for I rather think you’ve done enough damage already. The sooner she forgets all about you, the better.’ She was about to say something more, when suddenly her eyes fled past Louisa toward the window. A fine carriage was approaching, its team of handsome grays stepping high through the wind and rain.

Sir Ashley saw it too. ‘Good heavens, who can this be?’ he murmured, going to the window to peer rather shortsightedly out. ‘Can’t say I know the drag. Do you know it, my dear?’

‘No, but whoever it belongs to must be a person of some standing.’ Anne rose to her feet, gesturing impatiently to Louisa. ‘Please go to your room to pack, Miss Cherington, I wish you to be gone within the hour.’

Numb, Louisa left the library. She’d feared this ever since Geoffrey’s return had caused such jealousy, but now that it had finally happened, it had still hit her like a bolt out of the blue. She’d been concerned about Emma’s welfare, but now she must think of her own. What would become of her? She’d been dismissed without a reference, and who would want to take someone on who’d apparently left under something of a cloud? Destitution was staring her in the face, and all because of an unscrupulous rake who thought any woman he fancied was fair game, and a spiteful, vindictive creature whose thoughts were only of herself.

She hurried across the entrance hall to the staircase, going swiftly up just as the carriage drew to a halt outside. She’d reached the top when the caller knocked at the front door. She looked back. Her view was obscured by the columns and chandeliers; she could only see the gleaming black-and-white-tiled floor. The butler crossed it and opened the unseen door. She heard a gentleman’s voice. ‘My name is Highclare, I wish to speak to Miss Louisa Cherington.’

Her eyes widened and she leaned over the balustrade to look down, but still she couldn’t see anything. Highclare?
Lord
Highclare? The gentleman whose yacht had caused the
Mercury
to founder? But what on earth would he want to see her for? There had to be some mistake.

Anne thought so. Emerging from the library, she went toward him. ‘Do come in, Lord Highclare, but I’m sure there must be an error, for Miss Cherington is only the governess.’

‘There’s no error, Lady Lawrence, it is Miss Cherington that I’ve called to see.’ The door closed and at last he came to where Louisa could see him. He was tall and superbly attired, Bond Street to the tip of his elegant fingers. His blond hair was wavy, and the jeweled pin in his excellent neckcloth flashed as he moved. She thought him the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

He bowed over Anne’s hand, but in such a way as to convey a certain dislike. ‘Good morning, Lady Lawrence. I trust that I will be able to see Miss Cherington?’

‘I … Well, I really don’t know, sir,’ she replied, a little confused by his manner.

‘It’s important, Lady Lawrence. I would have called yesterday, but I was delayed by the weather and forced to spend the night at the Green Dragon in Brentford. Do you know the establishment?’ His eyes were piercing as they held her startled gaze.

Guilty color flooded into her cheeks and her glance fled toward her husband, who had also now emerged from the library. ‘The Green Dragon? I – I believe I’ve noticed it in passing, sir.’

As Louisa watched, the gentleman smiled. ‘I’m sure you have,’ he murmured. ‘It’s an excellent hostelry, but cursed with rather thin walls.’

Anne gave a sickly smile and went to link her arm through Sir Ashley’s. ‘Lord Highclare has called to see Miss Cherington, my dear.’

Sir Ashley was taken aback. ‘The governess?’

‘So it seems. It will be in order, won’t it?’

‘Of course.’ Sit Ashley nodded, bowing toward the gentleman. ‘Your servant, sir.’

‘And yours, sir.’ The gentleman sketched a graceful bow as well.

‘The butler will show you to the library, and Miss Cherington will come to you directly.’

‘Thank you.’ With a faintly mocking smile, the gentleman followed the butler, his gleaming boots echoing on the tiled floor.

At the top of the staircase, Louisa drew slowly back, afraid that someone might glance up and see her. She couldn’t imagine why a gentleman like Lord Highclare would call upon her. But then she hesitated, an awful icy finger touching her spine. Tom! It had to be something to do with Tom! Echoes of her dream moved over her. Something dreadful had befallen her brother.