Amy Lake (19 page)

Chapter 35: Sleepless Nights

Talfryn turned in the bed and buried his head in a fat pillow.  If he could only stop the thoughts circling his head, perhaps he could get some sleep.

Cool green eyes and glorious curls of auburn hair, slender curves that left him breathless.

Regina.

The viscount was certainly not, as Reggie feared, pining for Lady Anne Highsmith.  ’Twas true that Lord Davies had danced with Lady Anne, although not a waltz, nor had he escorted her onto the Portemain’s terrace, and he had forgotten all about her long before the end of the evening.  He had only attended the damned ball, as he had attended every other society event for the past fortnight, in order to not miss any possible news of Lady Regina.

Nothing.  And nothing. 

His recent visit to Roselay had been equally unsatisfactory, as the earl had dismissed any suggestion of calling in another doctor.  Then just this past evening he had learned from Lord Peter that the girl who inhabited his every dream was no longer even in town.

“Gone to the estate,” said Peter.  “In Cumbria.  Terrible long ways away, I can’t imagine what they’re thinking to send her on such a trip.  But it must mean she is recovering.”

“Why?” asked Lucien.

“Hardly a doctor worth mentioning in Cumbria, is there?”

That was a point.  And it eased the viscount’s mind for the rest of that evening, and into the next day, until he spoke with Isolde and Carys, who were obviously surprised at the news.

“Cumbria?”  Carys exchanged a quick glance with her sister, and both of their faces assumed an expression—Talfryn knew this expression well, from their childhood years—which made it clear that he was to be shut out of the ensuing sisterly conversation.

Gods.

And afterward he began to think about it.  Belvoir Manor, in Cumbria.  Lord Davies had heard stories of this particular estate, which was said to be run-down in the extreme, as Lord Knowles had no money to send its way.  ’Twould be days by coach, and then Lady Regina would be alone, without friends or another member of her family for company. 

The earl and his countess were still in town, said Lord Peter, with no intentions of leaving.  Lord Freddie was in London as well.

Lord Freddie—

A jackanapes, according to Lucien, with hardly a sensible thought in his head, but the more Talfryn thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed that Lady Regina’s brother might afford the best approach.

* * * *

On the following day the viscount managed to track Lord Wilfred to Tattersall’s.  Freddie showed all the signs of a man attempting to avoid conversation, but Talfryn wanted information, and was not to be stopped.  He cornered Lady Regina’s brother in one of the subscription rooms.

“Knowles.”

“Ah!  Ah, yes, Lord Davies!”

Lord Wilfred was all nervous smiles and sly allusions as to their connection-to-be, claiming that his sister would be in London ‘very soon’, after which an interesting event would surely take place.

“Your sister’s health is improving?” interrupted Talfryn.

“Of course!  Of course!  Nothing like the Cumbrian air!  Right as a fiddle in no time!”

But Lord Davies was not convinced.

* * * *

She’d been sent to Cumbria to die.

Once this thought entered Talfryn’s mind he could not remove it.  He saw Lady Regina in a ramshackle manor house in Cumbria, with only a few servants for company.

Sick.  Alone. 

People grew ill and died in great London homes, but Lord Davies would have bet a monkey that the Earl and Countess of Aveline preferred to avoid the inconvenience.  Then he was ashamed of himself for such a thought—but why Cumbria?

Perhaps she had taken the pox, although ’twas less usual these days, now that Mr Jenner’s ideas of Vaccination were finding root among the gentry of London.  Talfryn had seen individuals who had survived the infection, and whose faces bore terrible scars, but if that indeed had happened to Lady Regina, Lord Davies did not care.  So be it.  If she wished to avoid society they could live in the country—    

The viscount turned again in his bed.  When had he begun to think of himself and Lady Regina Knowles as a married couple?

* * * *

After a second, and then a third sleepless night, Lord Davies realized he could not continue in this manner.  Perhaps Lady Regina had no true affection for him.  Perhaps she was thinking only of his money and of making the most of her family’s position and influence.  Perhaps they would be miserable together, the viscount longing helplessly for the woman at his side and never able to possess her heart.

None of this mattered.  He must know of her situation.  If she was ill, or merely alone and recovering, in Cumbria—he must be there as well. 

He left the next morning, telling only Dabbs, his valet, of his plans.  He supposed that Carys and Isolde would be upset, but his sisters would find out soon enough.  Everyone will know, thought Talfryn; Lord Peter, Lucien, his mother—

Gods, his mother. 

They will all know that Lord Talfryn Davies, the Viscount of Cardingham, was so besotted with a woman that he traveled for days into the wilds of north England to see her.  Not knowing what he might find at the end of his road, and with no expectation that his affections would be returned.

Chapter 36: Gone to Cumbria

Cassandra looked at the folded note in her hand, wondering what possibly could have gone wrong with their plan.  The twins had agreed to speak with their brother, and to persuade him that Lady Regina was more ill than her parents were willing to admit.  Isolde and Carys had assured her that this would be quite easy to do, and Miss Barre believed them, as together, speaking in that odd way as if with one voice, the two girls were uncannily convincing.   

Lord Knowles had made this part of the scheme more complicated by announcing that his daughter had been sent to Belvoir Manor to recover, but there was nothing to be done about that.  Perhaps the viscount had not heard the news, although with Lord Peter as a friend that seemed unlikely.  In the meantime, Cassie had sent her letter to Reggie, commenting in a carefully off-hand manner about Lady Anne.  This was a complete faradiddle of course; Cassie had seen Lord Davies dancing with the girl, which had given her the idea, but she would have bet on the complete lack of interest in that gentleman’s eyes.  And Lord Peter told Helen that the viscount was attending events only to inquire about Lady Regina, a good sign if there ever was one.

“The man is smitten,” said Lady Helen, conveying her brother’s opinion.

All well and good.

But the footman had delivered a note just that morning from Carys and Isolde.

We must speak with you as soon as ever possible.

Miss Barre had sent him back at once with her reply.

I am at home.

* * * *

“He’s gone to Cumbria,” said Isolde.

Good heavens.  Cassandra did not need to ask more.  She knew exactly what had happened, and in part she was satisfied, as Lord Peter must be correct, the man was besotted with Lady Regina.  However—

“So, what do you suppose?  Four days?”

“To arrive,” said Carys.  “And another four in return.”

“Our brother,” said Isolde—

“—does not take frustration well,” finished her sister.  “He will be in a fair state when he returns to London.”

Cassie nodded.  “Then I believe it is high time to send him to Bath.”

The twins nodded, as one.

Chapter 37: A New Dream

That night my dream was different.  I stood with Lord Davies, and watched as Lady Anne Highsmith approached.  She was exactly as I remembered her from London; amiable and pretty, and we all entered into conversation.

“You are the daughter of a marquess, I believe?” said the viscount.

“I am indeed,” replied Lady Anne Highsmith.  “I will provide you with several healthy sons, and ensure that your sisters are successfully married to gentlemen of high rank.”

I drew back my fist and hit her.

* * * *

The next day I enquired of Mrs Baxter for writing paper.  I had been sending so many notes—albeit short—to my family, and pages to Miss Barre, that I had entirely run through the supplies at hand.

“Sophie will have writing paper,” said Mrs Baxter.  “In her rooms.”

So off I went—I was accustomed enough to the household at this point that I never even considered that someone would fetch it for me—and entered my aunt’s bedroom for the first time.  It was much as one would expect; a small wardrobe, a simple counterpane on the bed, nothing fussy or ostentatious, except—

A rather large portrait hung on one wall, and I was surprised to see that it was of Aunt Sophie herself, as a young woman.  She looked a bit like me, I thought, but dressed in the fashions of an earlier year, with the hair drawn back and piled rather high, and a folding fan in one hand.   

Strange that she would have such a grand painting in her own bedroom.

There was something at the back of my mind, something that bothered me as I stared at the thing.  Suddenly I remembered—my grandfather’s portrait.  The old earl, the painting my father disliked, that hung in the salon, in a sooty frame.  Where Lord Davies and I had engaged in our first real conversation.

This painting was by the same artist, I was sure of it.  The size was the same, even the frame, although here the wood had been rubbed with lemon oil and burnished to within an inch of its life.  And the work itself, something about the manner of brushstrokes, the look of the face, all of it was oddly familiar.  

I decided, thinking about it, that the two portraits must have been painted at the same time.  When Aunt Sophie was still living at Roselay, before she had been sent away to Bath. 

Chapter 38: Belvoir Manor

The journey had been impossibly tiresome, but the thought of seeing Lady Regina was impetus enough, and once he reached the vicinity of Penrith Lord Davies had no difficulty finding the Earl of Aveline’s estate.  Everyone in the village knew of Belvoir Manor, as one would expect, although the viscount was surprised by how they spoke of it, with something near to scorn.  A great manor house was usually the center around which the life and prosperity of such a village revolved—he guessed that Lord Knowles was not a popular gentleman thereabouts, nor a good landowner as these things were counted.

“Aye,” said the barkeep, at the first establishment he entered, “if it’s Belvoir you want, go down the west road for a few miles.  You’ll see that jumble of stone, right enough.”

 Lord Davies thought this an odd description of a manor house, but when he arrived at Belvoir he understood the man’s meaning.  The local building material was a red sandstone, which gave the town a warm and unpretentious appearance; the earl’s house was constructed of the same, but it had been left in disrepair, and several large blocks had fallen from the tops of the crenellations, as Beauvoir was constructed in a fashion reminiscent of a medieval castle.

And Lady Regina had been sent
here
for her recovery?  The viscount was suddenly furious with Lord Knowles, or even more so than before, and he decided that upon their return to London—for he would ensure that the earl’s daughter was returned to town, provided it was safe for her to travel—he would have words with the man.

They could not travel back to London together, thought Talfryn.  ’Twould be a scandal.  Unless—

 Gretna Green was nearly straight on from Penrith.  Not more than thirty miles, and they could be married before another night was gone.

* * * *

“My young lady?  At Belvoir?”

The housekeeper and her husband had welcomed Lord Davies into Belvoir Manor without hesitation, their unquestioning acceptance one of the benefits of being a member of his class.  The interior was, to his relief, clean and cheerful; ’twas clear that Mr and Mrs Riddpathe had done their best with whatever funds the earl sent their way, and Talfryn would have felt better, and might even have believed that Lady Regina was well taken care of, here in Cumbria. 

Except that she was not there.

“Nay, my lord.  We’ve not seen our little miss for many years.”

That they spoke of Lady Regina as ‘the little miss’ made matters quite clear.

“’Twould be lovely, really,” said Mrs Riddpathe.  “She was always such a delightful child.”

The viscount closed his eyes briefly, feeling wearied beyond measure.  Four days on the road to Penrith, and now another four days back.

And in the meantime, where was the girl? 

“You’ve had no communication from Lord Knowles?” he asked the couple, wondering if Lady Regina had been sent to Belvoir, but had suffered some mishap along the road.  Highwaymen, or a broken wheel—

He saw her lying in a ditch somewhere, injured, in pain and calling for help.

“From his lordship?  Not a word.”

Lord Davies nodded.  “Thank you for your assistance.  I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh dearie, no,” said Mrs Riddpathe, who seemed to have warmed to the viscount.  “You look dead to the bones!” Which was quite true. 

“Here, have another cup of tea.”

’Twas really too late in the day to start back, even if he could find a coach in Penrith.  And if he was to ride the first part of the trip, to Kirkby Kendal, say, the horse needed rest.

“I don’t suppose I could trouble you—” Talfryn began, but the Riddpathes were already talking between themselves of his stay for the night.

“We’ll put his lordship in the old master’s room.”

“I’ll just go freshen the bedding, then, shall I?”

‘The old master’s room’, as it happened, was not the grand, drafty bedroom used by the present Lord Knowles on the very rare occasions he visited Cumbria, but a smaller and much more comfortable chamber that the old earl—Lady Regina’s grandfather—had found more to his taste.  How the Riddpathes kept such a room nearly ready to receive visitors Lord Davies had no idea, but within the hour he had removed clothing that he hoped, after his return to London, never to see again, and gratefully sank into the four-posted bed.