Emily Hendrickson (7 page)

“Dashed odd thing,” Leighton replied. “My father has always been healthy, never sick a day. And then, little by little he became ill, and before long he was in bed, feeling wretched.”

Elizabeth noted his apparently sincere worry, and reflected that there definitely seemed to be a serious side to Lord Leighton, or David, as he had insisted she call him. She was skeptical as to how deeply it ran.

“I recall Crompton as being fit as a fiddle,” Aunt Bel commented as she stared off into space. “Always on the go with the goers, and never one to malinger.” She shook her head in dismay. “Puzzling.”

“Quite so, Lady Montmorcy,” Leighton said in that persuasive manner he possessed in such abundance. “That is why I hoped to enlist Elizabeth’s help. There appears to be a mystery here. She performed noteworthy assistance to the government, and may still be engaged in helping their efforts, for all I know. At any rate, since we are betrothed, it would be acceptable for her to spend time at Penhurst Place assisting me, would it not?”

Aunt Bel frowned slightly, then her brow cleared. “I believe it would be most proper. After all, she did you an injustice, shooting you like that.”

“Aunt Bel.” Elizabeth protested, “he broke into my room in the dead of night. For all I knew he might have been a robber ... or worse! What was I to do? Meekly permit him to do as he pleased?”

“Elizabeth Dancy” came a scandalized retort.

His lordship’s grin was quite the most odious one yet. Elizabeth knew she blushed, most likely a fiery red, and contained her anger just barely. Trust the two of them to put the worst possible construction on her words.

The two younger people avoided further quibbling by their providential arrival at Penhurst Place. Aunt Bel surveyed the neat brick gate with a shrewd eye, then scanned the orderly avenue to the house with an astute knowledge of what it took to keep an estate in such excellent repair.

“You have a good steward. Lord Leighton,” she commented.

“A cousin, Jeremy Vane. My father took him in some years ago, training him in estate management with the hope that some day Jeremy would have experience enough to command a good position.”

“Admirable,” Aunt Bel said. “Difficult thing for younger sons to find a niche for themselves.” She sighed. “I worry about my John. As an only son, he must assume his place before long. I trust his traveling will bring him home safe and sound soon.”

Lord Leighton gave her an inquiring look.

“John decided he wished to duplicate the journey his father had made years ago, haring across the Alps down to Italy. How he avoided the Frenchies, I don’t know.” She checked her watch, then added, “Ought to have been home long ago.” As though Aunt Bel thought her John would arrange his trip to her timetable.

“I feel certain cousin John is fine, Aunt Bel. He is as practical as even you might wish, and always manages to land on his feet no matter what happens,” Elizabeth assured her.

The topic of the missing heir to the Montmorcy fortune was dismissed as the carriage drew up before the charming home of the Percy family. Or at least one of their homes.

Sidthorp ushered them in with a good deal more propriety than he had Elizabeth the day before. She surmised that Aunt Bel made all the difference.

“We are pleased to see you home, sir,” he said to the Percy heir.

Lord Leighton gave him a lopsided smile, then removed his hat, handing it to the waiting butler. His gloves offered a problem his valet would solve later. “My father awake, do you know?”

“As to that, sir, you would have to see Filpot, his lordship’s valet,” he added for Aunt Bel’s edification.

With an apprehensive glance at Lady Montmorcy, Lord Leighton said, “Shall you wish to go with me, my lady?”

“Most definitely,” she declared firmly. Turning to Elizabeth, she added, “Wait for us in the library. We do not wish to overwhelm his lordship.”

“Yes, do,” Leighton inserted.

“Very well,” Elizabeth said with resignation.

She watched the pair slowly make their way up the stairs until they reached the open gallery. They walked along the corridor leading to the south bedroom wing until they disappeared. She found the sight of Lord Leighton bending to listen solicitously to her aunt’s conversation unsettling. Who knew what her dearest aunt poured into his ears!

Elizabeth turned to Sidthorp. “I believe I shall wish tea, if you please. I feel sure that Lady Montmorcy will as well once she has investigated Lord Crompton’s condition.”

The butler nodded, then ushered Elizabeth around the corner and down the corridor to the library. Just beyond an elaborate long-case clock, he showed her into an elegant room with book-lined walls.

The air of somber comfort must reflect the personality of the earl, for it certainly didn’t his son. Elizabeth liked the neoclassical decor of the pleasantly airy room very much. She trailed a finger along the back of one of the many armchairs scattered about the room, casting an eye at the exquisite needlepoint covers with approval. She’d wager Leighton’s mother had worked those. Or perhaps they had come from another estate, for one didn’t often buy such delightful treasures that so well fitted the decor.

A writing table of the very latest design stood in the center of the room. Papers were strewn over the top, with a letter knife, a large seal, and red sealing wax in a clutter next to the inkstand. A tray with a pen and a knife for sharpening the quill sat by a silver-rimmed jar of sand. Quite evidently someone had been working here until a short time before. The pen point looked to need sharpening, and Elizabeth immediately decided that whoever used this desk seemed a trifle messy, and not as careful’ as he might be. Shouldn’t those papers have been stored away from prying eyes? Not that she would snoop.

Dismissing the desk, she strolled to the first of the many bookcases set into the walls of the room. The latest works were found on the shelves at eye level. Above, she could see volumes in Latin and German. Walking on, she found a great number of books in French and a few in Italian. Evidently the Percys were a family well taught in many languages.

It did not help her to understand David any better, however. He remained as much an enigma as ever.

A pair of wing chairs flanked the fireplace, offering a cozy spot for reading or quiet conversation. The white marble fireplace was all classical elegance with fluted Ionic columns to either side. The portrait above the fireplace undoubtedly was a Percy, for he wore the faintly amused expression she saw so frequently upon Lord Leighton, not to mention the same brown hair and rich hazel eyes.

At that moment the door opened. She turned around, expecting to see Sidthorp with a tea tray. Instead she found a young man of moderate height, certainly shorter than David, Lord Leighton, who seemed to tower above everyone around. As a matter of fact, this man seemed very much like David, only a faded shadow, not as handsome, or as personable. Confused, she raised her brows in inquiry.

“Miss Elizabeth Dancy? Sidthorp told me that we had guests. I am Jeremy Vane, cousin to Lord Leighton.”

Elizabeth bestowed a welcoming smile on the gentleman. “How charming to meet you, sir. When we drove up to the house, we were much impressed by the landscape, giving evidence of your care.”

His modest shrug could only be commended, she decided. He did not assume airs and graces unfitting a person so removed from the title.

“I appreciate all his lordship has done for me—the earl, that is. He has treated me like a son, and I do all I can to repay his faith.”

“Praiseworthy, indeed, sir.” She was at a loss as to what to discuss next.

Sidthorp solved the dilemma by entering the room with the tea tray. In addition to the generous pot of Bohea tea with the usual milk, sugar, and lemon slices, there were delicate lemon biscuits and treacle tarts.

“Lovely,” Elizabeth said, recalling her slight meal before leaving Montmorcy Hall. In the process of arranging cups and saucers, she glanced up as the door opened once again.

“Jeremy! So you found our guest,” Leighton said with a distinctly cool look at the steward.

“Not often we are treated to such a pleasantry nowadays,” Jeremy replied evenly.

“Good,’’ Lady Montmorcy said as she marched in behind Leighton. “We can refresh ourselves while we decide what to do. May I say that I find that man Filpot to be a nodcock of the first order. Lord Leighton?”

“You may,” he said, sighing with apparent resignation. “Father refuses to part with the man, and indeed, he has been here a good many years. I’d prefer a reliable nurse, but that is not to be.”

Aunt Bel exchanged a look with Elizabeth, one full of meaning.

“Would he perhaps permit me to look after him? Aunt Bel? What do you think?” Elizabeth ventured to say. “After all, if David and I are to be wed, I am like one of the family. How could he take exception to that?” She gathered, from the hard look directed at her by her dearest aunt, that Aunt Bel’s efforts had come to nothing.

“Filpot would most likely be upset,” Jeremy commented.

“Hang Filpot, the old fussbudget,” David answered with a distinct lack of his usual charm. Indeed, he looked harassed and troubled, if Elizabeth was any judge. Perhaps his wound pained him. At least he had been able to obtain help with his gloves, and now was draped with a neat nankeen sling for his arm.

“I believe that keeping the room in utter darkness a bit rash,” Aunt Bel declared. “Not to mention that potion he gives him. Seemed exceedingly nasty.”

“That is the housekeeper’s special remedy, my lady,” Jeremy stated, looking as though he thought Lady Montmorcy might bite him. But then, she tended to have that effect on people, especially those of the lower orders.

“Hmpf,” Lady Montmorcy replied, highly indignant that she had not been permitted to take charge as she longed to do.

Elizabeth had seen that look before, and decided she had best step in before her aunt said something utterly outrageous.

“If there is no other objection, I believe I would like to tend his lordship. Does that please you, David?” she inquired in dulcet tones for the benefit of his cousin.

She couldn’t deduce what his reaction would be, for his face was in the shadows. However, he ultimately nodded his agreement. “As long as the arrangement meets with your aunt’s approval.” He turned to that lady to add, “Mind you, if the weather turns foul, she may not be able to return to the Hall for a brief time. Her maid will be with her, but outside the housekeeper and the maids, there are no other women living here.”

“Lord Percy and his son ought to suffice. Neither cousin Egbert nor his father are precisely what you might call top-drawer. Lady Montmorcy, but they do well enough, I should think,” Jeremy added, sharing an apologetic smile with Elizabeth.

“Fine. I shall return to the Hall and gather what I will need.” Elizabeth resolved to consult with Purvis as well, once she had questioned Aunt Bel as to what she knew of the earl’s condition.

Aunt Bel settled on one of the embroidered high-backed chairs to partake of her tea. Nothing could dissuade her from that important task. Sampling a tart, she daintily wrinkled her nose. “You will doubtlessly wish to find a new cook, Elizabeth, once you assume your position here. I believe this tart to be a bit off.”

Elizabeth thought the milk a trifle sour as well, but didn’t dream of complaining about it. Elderly ladies could get by with murder.

Once they finished tea, Elizabeth rose when her aunt decided to depart the house, following her from the library with a backward glance at Jeremy Vane. Perhaps she would enjoy his company while here. At least he did not intimidate her like his cousin. Nor did he appear to be the teasing son.

“While you are in this house, you will please remember at all times that you are betrothed to me,” David murmured in her ear, well out of her aunt’s hearing.

“Whatever would I do that might call that into question?”

“I saw that languishing look at Jeremy. He doesn’t have a feather to fly with, and is definitely not for you, my dear,” David said rather close to her ear.

Elizabeth bristled at the tone of his voice. Of all the odious insinuations! As though she would set up a flirt with his steward. She had considered it might be nice to find a friend. Nothing more. Before she could reply to this insulting innuendo, the front door opened.

Two men entered the front hall. Both wore riding clothes and carried whips in their hands. They appeared to be amiably arguing about something. Upon seeing there were guests, and ladies at that, both halted in their tracks, the argument set aside.

Introductions were made, with Egbert appraising Elizabeth but thankfully not flirting with her. Aunt Bel studied Lord Augustus, as though searching for a hint of the man she had once known while in London years ago.

“Uncle Augustus, Egbert, I see you are enjoying the stables,” Lord Leighton said in a voice that made Elizabeth glad she wasn’t one of the men.

“Dashed fine lot of horseflesh, my boy. Dashed fine,” replied the older man. He had the look of the Percys, but his skin was raddled, most likely from too much port, and his eyes above sagging pouches of skin looked cynical. While his clothing was spotless, the coat was several years behind the current styles and his vest amazingly plain.

Egbert glanced at his father and said, “That new mare appears to be an excellent addition, cousin.”

“See that she remains that way, Egbert,” David replied, giving his cousin a steady look.

With that. Lord Leighton ushered his guests to the closed carriage awaiting them in front of the house.

“You have done well, David,” Aunt Bel praised, “in spite of that man Filpot. I shall feel better, however, when Elizabeth takes up her nursing duties. A pity your father would not allow Purvis to attend him.”

“We have yet to see how he takes to Elizabeth,” Lord Leighton reminded her.

“Everyone adores Elizabeth. Girl can charm a bird from a bush. I do not foresee any difficulty in
that
quarter. Perhaps she can succeed where the doctor has failed. However, I cannot say I have ever had much faith in Dr. Dibble.” She glanced fondly at Elizabeth. “Just keep her safe, my boy.”