Emily Hendrickson (27 page)

“Of course.” She rose in a flurry of black bombazine and left the room. Her bosom rose and fell in great agitation as she marched to the rear of the house. He had sent her from the room because he did not wish her to learn what he planned for Jeremy. Just what was going on?

Chapter Fifteen

“They all believe you to be dead.”

“Do they, by Jove?” The earl turned from the window, where he had been staring out across the gentle vale to the woods in the distance. The scene presented a misty view at best, but it appeared to offer goodly satisfaction to him.

“You look well enough, I must say,” replied a disgruntled son. David dropped onto a chair not far from where his father stood. “I have had to go about with a hangdog face and test my acting abilities to the limit.”

“Yes, well, when one ceases to imbibe poison, it does have a beneficial effect on one.” The earl joined his son, taking a chair that faced him, and smiled wryly. “Tell me, how do my dear relatives accept the news of my demise?” He gestured toward the bed, where a bust of the earl was placed on the pillow, sheets and a cover arranged so it bore an uncanny resemblance to the real person, what with a few pillows strategically placed to form a body.

“Your brother looks to have aged ten years, expresses sorrow that you quarreled. Whatever did you argue about all those years ago, if I may ask?” David picked at the arms of his chair while watching his dear father grope for words.

“A woman. Suffice it to say that neither of us really cared a scrap for the gel. Egbert?”

“I was surprised there. He has actually been rather civil to Elizabeth and I, conveying words of deep sympathy—for Egbert. However, Jeremy has turned into a toad of the first water. He is cocksure, impertinent, almost patronizing, especially to Elizabeth, as though he pitied her in her betrothal to me.”

“Hmm. Of course, that does not mean what we think it might, for whoever it is must be a dissembler of considerable ability. Why the gloomy face?” The earl steepled his fingers while resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, studying his son with a shrewd gaze.

“I cannot like deceiving Elizabeth in all this. You do not know how many times I have come close to confiding in her.” David shifted, as though uncomfortable.

“I can see where that might present a difficulty. You are reconciled to the match?” His lordship permitted a smile to hover over his mouth.

“More than reconciled, sir. I have grown to love that aggravating young woman very much. She is such a delight. However, I am not certain if she feels the same about me.”

“You arranged the settlements as I suggested?” The earl tilted his head to listen carefully to what was said, and perhaps to what was unspoken.

“She appears quite satisfied with them. And you were exceedingly generous. I thank you for that.” David flashed his endearing grin at his father.

“Nonsense. It will all come to you one day, eventually. Although not for some time, I hope. I shall be glad to have this thing over and done with, for I grow restless being cooped in this room. I have read all these books you brought up. Perhaps you will be so good as to exchange them for another selection?”

David chuckled. “Elizabeth saw me with books in my arms. I feel sure she wondered about my wishing to read at a time like this.”

“Quite so.” The two men exchanged amused glances. Filpot entered the room on tiptoe, carrying a tray he had prepared for the earl while the cook was absent from the kitchen.

“Difficult, milord. Very tricky, indeed. But I find it curious that the quality of the food has improved so greatly since your supposed death.’’ The valet fussed over the tray, placing it on a table close to his master, seeing to it that the dishes and cutlery were just so, the food to his lordship’s liking.

Again the earl’s eyes sought David, and this time the looks they exchanged were not amused in the least.

* * * *

Several hours later, Elizabeth found her aunt relaxing on a chaise lounge in her bedchamber. “The settlement is complete. I daresay my jointure is excessively generous, Aunt Bel,” Elizabeth said, referring to the monetary provision for a widow. She paced back and forth in the charming room while her aunt look on in shrewd assessment.

“I was not aware that so many factors had to be considered,” Elizabeth continued. “Our first son, should we be blessed with one, is well settled, and the amount of pin money I am to have is wildly handsome.” She gestured expansively, while pausing in her walk to look at her aunt.

“The dowry my parents arranged for me is more than I expected. The solicitor was vastly pleased with it, and murmured something about the marriage being a good contract and highly advantageous, as my dowry was so substantial. It appears to me that women are sold into marriage, much like slaves.”

“Rubbish,” Aunt Bel denied. “It is the way of our society, my love. Without our families to watch over our interests, we could be left without a roof over our heads, utterly penniless. Our children might be denied their rightful share of an inheritance by unscrupulous relatives and conniving solicitors.” She paused to reflect, as though she recalled instances where this had occurred. “Whether or not you love the man you wed is immaterial in the long run. Through the settlement, your future is assured by careful planning. Lord Crompton is being extremely considerate, and you are a very fortunate girl,” her ladyship gently scolded.

Elizabeth considered this information at length, then paused by the fireplace, exchanging a puzzled look with her aunt.

“I do not reject marriage, not even to a man who has never said he cares for me. I am a silly, romantic girl and would dearly like to have my future husband say other than he could do worse than marry me.” She flounced into a chair, propped her chin on her fist, and glared at an inoffensive vase full of snowdrops.

“He said no such thing. Or did he?” Aunt Bel inquired in faintly horrified tones.

Elizabeth nodded, then roundly declared, “When it came to the discussion about Jeremy, I was requested— ever so politely—to inform Mrs. Sidthorp that Mr. Fynes will be staying several nights. As though Sidthorp had not already done that. It was merely a ruse to remove me from the room. David might have saved himself the trouble of inventing an excuse and just told me
to run along, like a child of six.”

“My, my, such a feeling of ill usage,” Aunt Bel said dryly.

Elizabeth smiled acknowledgment of her infantile anger. “I know. I am being a peagoose. I suppose I long for a chivalrous knight to sweep me into his arms, rather than a prosaic melding of my dowry to David’s estate, with a ceremony to mark the event. He said something about his not having courted me, almost sounding sorry about it. Do you suppose he intends to woo me properly later on?” Elizabeth gave her aunt a wistful look.

Aunt Bel smiled at her romantic niece. “Stranger things have happened.”

“There is a funeral service tomorrow morning. I thought he would wait until he took his father by hearse to the main estate up north. Apparently he has decided to hold two services, with the interment up there where the family vault is located. That will be an enormous undertaking. I recall seeing a procession once. With six horses for the hearse and six for the mourning coach, plus all the outriders, it was an impressive sight. When they come to the town near the home estate, a great many people assemble along the road. The mourners require such an outlay. Funerals are expensive.” Elizabeth sighed, lost in reflection.

“I believe I shall venture forth to the other wing and pay my respects to the deceased. That valet, Filpot, has said we might.” Lady Montmorcy rose from her chair, then walked to the door. Here she paused, turning to study her niece. “Will you join me?”

Reluctant to admit how depressing she found the entire viewing, Elizabeth obediently rose to join her aunt, knowing this was expected of her as David’s future wife.

Her coming wedding seemed unreal, like a fantasy, or something she read about as happening to another. She well knew it was inevitable, and she truly did not hate the idea. She longed for it to be a love match, however. And it seemed to her that David was not very lover-like for a rake.

As the two ladies walked across the central area to the south wing, she glanced down at the hall below. Sidthorp could be seen crossing on some errand. Egbert entered, obviously having come from a ride in the morning mist. He shook his hat and coat to shed the moisture from it.

Would it ever turn warm and sunshiny again? This was undoubtedly the longest winter she could ever recall.

Filpot met them at the door when they knocked. At the sight of Lady Montmorcy, he opened the door a little wider, enough to permit them to enter. He coughed discreetly, then said, “My Lady Montmorcy and Miss Elizabeth,” as though announcing them to the body on the bed.

Elizabeth did not quite believe her ears and followed her aunt into the room with considerable reluctance.

The room was as dark as night, with but two flickering candles some distance from the bed. Draperies were drawn tightly over the windows. Filpot muttered something about it being like Lord Nelson’s viewing, when there were but two candles lit.

The earl’s face looked handsome, carved in high relief as though in stone. Although she had to admit it was difficult to see very much, for he was in deep shadow. Not having been at a similar scene, for she had never viewed her parents after they died, Elizabeth couldn’t say if the sight was typical. Burning incense produced a heavy, spicy odor, not unpleasant but slightly overwhelming after a time. Had it been any other situation, she would have sworn she smelled food as well, but surely Filpot would not eat in this room!

“Hmph,” Aunt Bel murmured to Elizabeth. “One would think there was a heavy tax on candles, as dark as it is in here,”

“It presents a mood. Aunt.” Elizabeth agreed that the room possessed an odd appearance, but what did she know?

“I shall miss him. I thought I might have a chance to renew our acquaintance, for he was always a darling boy to me. Oh pride, how foolish it can be. I loved him deeply before my parents compelled me to wed Giles. I could not even tell Harold that I cared, for I was whisked to London to be married there. Years later, when I returned after Giles had died, Harold did not call on me. I trust he had forgotten all about our youthful attachment. And now it is too late for me to tell him. I am merely a silly old woman,” Aunt Bel concluded softly, mindless of Filpot and Elizabeth. She accepted the sprig of rosemary from Filpot to place on the bed, then stepped away, a handkerchief to her eyes, her head bowed.

Elizabeth felt her aunt’s murmured words were more to herself than to her niece, and so remained silent. But she was filled with sadness at what she had heard. How tragic to allow foolish pride to come between two people who had once loved each other.

When they at last returned to Elizabeth’s sitting room, her aunt rang for tea, declaring she needed restoration. She blew her nose a number of times, but had composed herself when the maid entered bearing the tea tray.

Elizabeth drifted over to the window, wondering what was going on in the study, where David again was meeting with his solicitor after a break. Did she dare intrude? She had taken his request to Mrs. Sidthorp, who had indeed known all about the solicitor’s visit.

Something simply did not feel right. Was she becoming as superstitious as her aunt? To rely on hunches, feelings?

“Join me, my dear. We shall drink to a fine man with a good cup of Bohea.”

“Better that than port, I suppose.” Elizabeth left the window, after noting that the mist continued to fall outside. She returned to the chair she had occupied earlier and accepted a steaming cup of Bohea from her aunt.

“What shall you do, my girl? If David proceeds with the wedding?”

“What can I do but agree? Everyone around knows we have been betrothed ever since Valentine’s Day. I did not write of it to Victoria and Julia, thinking it useless, for I had intended to hand him the mitten long before this.”

“Did you, now?” Aunt Bel peered at Elizabeth over the rim of her teacup, her brows rising.

“I feel it wrong to compel two people to marry merely because of a superstition. But somewhere along the line things got out of hand. I should like to let my sisters know. Victoria has returned from the continent, and is in the family way, according to her latest letter. Julia is off up north, and I doubt if she can be here, either. I am excessively glad I have you. Aunt Bel,” Elizabeth added with a fond look at her slightly eccentric but much loved aunt. “Chloe and Hyacinth shall stand up for me in place of my sisters.”

“Sensible, for you do not know precisely when the wedding is to be, do you?” Aunt Bel took another dainty sip of tea.

“He keeps remarkably quiet about that,” Elizabeth replied thoughtfully. “I believe I shall approach the matter now. A girl likes to plan for things. Especially a wedding. Although I realize that many people do not make a great fuss. When the sixth Duchess of Devonshire married, only her parents, her grandmother, and the duke’s sister were present. And Lady Harriet Cavendish had no one but her father and stepmother and Lord Granville’s sister attend her wedding. David said he had written for a special license, and I suspect he wants no fuss, particularly so close to his father’s death. It would be unseemly.”

With her aunt’s permission to discuss the matter with David, Elizabeth left her rooms, walking down the corridor with an anxious heart.

A hush hung over the house when she ran lightly down the stairs. Sidthorp was not to be seen. Egbert could be heard chatting with his father in the billiards room. She could see them standing near the billiards table, cues in hand while they discussed something.

Her footsteps lagged. There had been a distant alteration of the attitude of both of them since the earl’s death. She stopped, watching the two, who carried on as though nothing had occurred. Surely that was not the way to behave? While she did not actually know, not having been around a house where there was a death for years—and then being quite young, it seemed callous to just go on as usual, playing game after game of billiards.