Fenella J. Miller (6 page)

‘Well done, Edmund. You have saved us from a nasty tantrum. Please excuse us, Mama, I’m hoping this will be the good news we all want.’

       Eliza and Edmund had decided to tell their mother that there might be a small trust fund that could pay off Edmond’s gambling debts right away and allow him to return to London. Eliza and Edmund crossed the narrow hall and walked down to the room that faced the gravel-covered carriage sweep. The library and study and had been their father’s refuge from his wife and mother-in-law.

Eliza seated herself behind the deck forgetting that it was Edmond’s place to sit there; she was so used to commanding affairs, she considered it her place as of right. Edmund, an easy-going young man, took no offence, and went to prop himself in the window seat.

       Fiddling nervously with the tassels on his Hessian boots, rubbing specks from their shiny surface, he was obviously uneasy. She knew exactly how he felt; her heart was racing and her mouth unpleasantly dry.

* * * *

Today she had dressed in a dark green cambric gown which had a high neck and long sleeves. The elegant cut more than made up for its lack of ornamentation. She heard the bell ring loudly and then Rose’s voice. She sat and prayed fervently that it might be better news than she expected.

 There was a knock on the door and it opened. ‘Begging your pardon, sir, miss, Mr Firmin is here to see you.’

 A middle-aged gentleman dressed entirely in black, his head a mass of grey curls around a bald centre, smiled at them both, bowing deeply. ‘My dear Miss Fox, Mr Fox, in what way can I be of service to you this morning?’

 ‘Thank you for coming to see us so promptly. Please take a seat. There’s a matter of extreme urgency we have to discuss.’       Briefly Eliza explained the situation and watched the jovial man’s expression change to one of alarm. She reached the part about the mysterious fund and he looked at her blankly.

 ‘Trust funds? Funds invested in your name, to access whenever you please? Miss Fox, I have no knowledge of this.’

Eliza flinched. She closed her eyes trying to absorb this latest piece of devastating news.

       Edmund burst out.. ‘My God, we are ruined! I might as well blow my brains out now and save myself the trouble later.’

       His overly dramatic exclamation brought Eliza back to her senses. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Edmund. You have responsibilities, you’re the head of this household, or shall be next March. There is no time for such nonsense. Father told me there was money and there must be some, even if Mr Firmin does not know of its whereabouts.’

The lawyer was wringing his hands, his face etched deep with concern for his young clients. Eliza stared at him, waiting for him to offer them some advice. None was forthcoming.

       ‘Mr Firmin, think back five years ago, did anything happen at your chambers that might account for this piece of information not being at your fingertips?’

       She watched the gentleman’s face clear miraculously. ‘Five years ago you say, Miss Fox? Of course, that was when my dear father passed away and I was unable to take over the business because my wife was desperately ill with child-bed fever.’ He frowned and Eliza held her breath, waiting for him continue.

       ‘Who dealt with your clients during that period?’ Edmund was not so patient.

       ‘It was my cousin, in London. My clerks dealt with the smaller matters, but anything of importance was transferred at once to Lincoln’s Inn Fields. That is where this information must be. I really must apologize, sir, madam, it is most remiss of me. I believed that all such information had been returned to our office, for some reason this particular instruction has remained locked away in London.’

He got to his feet and bowed again deeply. ‘I shall send a clerk for it as soon as I return, Miss Fox. I shall have the information you require when I return here at the same time tomorrow morning. Pray excuse me, I must return to my office immediately and get things organized.’

Edmund was, by this time, on his feet and not waiting to ring for a parlour maid to show the lawyer out, did the job himself.

       Eliza heard them conversing in the corridor as they walked towards the front door. She felt her heart slowly returning to its normal pace; they were safe, at least until tomorrow.

She could dream that the money invested somewhere would be enough to pay off the loathsome Lord Wydale. Until she knew different she would push her darker thoughts away.

       Edmund returned a grin on his face. ‘That was a close thing, Liza. For a moment I thought all was lost. I’m sure we’ll have the news we want tomorrow, until then I intend to forget all about it, and pretend everything is as it should be. I advise you to do the same. Papa used to say that worrying about a thing won’t change it; it merely makes you feel bad.’

       She smiled, she could recall her father saying those exact words. ‘Come, we had best go upstairs and play that game with Sarah as we promised. The rain is getting heavier thank goodness, so we should not get any more visitors this morning.’

* * * *

They played a noisy game in and out of the attics for more than an hour; it was Eliza’s turn to count whilst the other two secreted themselves for the umpteenth time. Relieved to have a few moments to herself, she sank on to a nursery chair watching the comforting flicker of the log fire. She heard hurrying footsteps along the uncarpeted hall outside and the door burst open.

       ‘There you are, Miss Fox. Mr Reed has come to call on you and is waiting in the drawing-room. Mrs Fox asks that you come down at once and speak to him.’

       ‘Thank you, Jane. I shall be glad to do so, I’m quite worn out playing hide and go seek with Sarah. It’s my turn to do the finding, so I’m afraid you must do so instead of me or the two of them will languish behind the trunks until luncheon.’

She felt invigorated, and for a moment was able to forget about their problems as she contemplated a pleasant half an hour in the company of Lord Wydale’s most attractive friend. She rushed into her own bedchamber to tidy herself before she descended. She knew exactly where the clothes brushes were placed; she often had need of them. She checked she was free of cobwebs and washed her face to remove the smuts she had acquired whilst crawling around the attics.

       Even she could see her eyes were sparkling. It was so long since she had had a gentleman caller, it made her feel like a green girl again. She ran lightly down the stairs, steadying her progress before she entered the drawing-room.

       She had expected to find her mother and grandmother entertaining the guest but the room was unexpectedly empty of anyone apart from her vistor. She hesitated, not sure if it was indecorous to enter unchaperoned.

       He was waiting standing, apparently relaxed, in the centre of the faded carpet. ‘Good morning, Miss Fox. Permit me to say that you look quite delightful in that gown.’

She dipped in a brief curtsy. ‘Thank you, sir, and I appreciate your compliment. I had thought to find my mother and grandmother with you. I’m not sure it’s correct etiquette for me to entertain you alone.’

       ‘If you leave the door wide open, and we remain standing, I’m sure no one will accuse you of doing anything indelicate.’

       She had the distinct impression he was laughing at her. It was so long since she had been in this situation, she had forgotten the rigid rules that governed the
ton
. Smiling up at him she responded to his sally. ‘I am sure, sir, my mama cannot object if we move two chairs into the centre of the carpet and sit there. However, I must insist there is a distance of at least a yard between us.’

He bowed solemnly. ‘Of course, Miss Fox. An excellent notion. Remain exactly where you are and I shall fetch the chairs at once.’

       She watched him stroll across and select two wooden armchairs with matching upholstered seats. She knew each weighed quite heavy, but he collected them in one hand and placed them exactly as she had specified.

He bowed again, and gestured to chair nearest the warmth of the hearth. ‘Please be seated, Miss Fox; you must remember that a gentleman cannot do so before a lady.’

Trying not to giggle, she folded herself on the chair and, crossing her ankles neatly, she placed her hands on her lap and waited for him to make the next move. He collapsed his long length opposite; crossing his legs curling his arms around the curved chair back.

 ‘There, I do believe we are ready to exchange commonplaces. Do you have something boring to tell me?’ This was too much. Eliza’s laughter filled the room, breaking the tension.

‘You are impossible, sir. I have never said anything boring in my life. I am a fount of wit and wisdom; you have only to ask my family to discover that I speak nothing but the truth.’

       ‘In which case, Miss Fox, I wait with bated breath to hear what you have to say to me. I am but only an ordinary man and have only come to pay you flowery compliments and flirt outrageously.’

       The words were spoken lightly but she saw a glint in his eyes and all desire to laugh left her. For the second time that morning Eliza felt her heart race and her colour fade. She knew she should say something clever, respond with an equally flippant remark.

       ‘Mr Fox, please do not make fun of me. I am not used to making trivial conversation and have never flirted with anyone in my life. I know my own limitations. What is it you want from me? I am what you see, and I will not be made fun of.’

Instantly his face changed and his face became serious. ‘My dear, Miss Fox, I assure you that I am not making fun of you. You must not sell yourself short. You’re a lovely young woman and I own that I am surprised, but delighted, to find you still living at home and not happily married with a family of your own.’

       She swallowed, finding herself unable to think of a suitable reply she answered flippantly. ‘Selling myself short, sir, is something I could never do, for I am almost two yards tall in my stockinged feet.’

His shout of laughter startled Rose who was hurrying to the drawing-room to enquire if they would like refreshments. The maid appeared in the open door-way, and curtsied.

       ‘Would you be requiring anything miss?’

Eliza raised an eyebrow at her guest and he shook his head, his lips pressed tight, trying to contain his mirth.       ‘No thank you. Mr Reed will not be staying long.’

The girl dipped again and disappeared back down the corridor. Eliza knew the staff would be discussing the unusual circumstance of her entertaining a handsome gentleman caller before said gentleman had even departed the house.

       ‘Good grief! You’re an original, Miss Fox’ He wiped his brimming eyes, ignoring her protests, he stood up and moved his chair closer. So close, when he sat down again his knees were almost touching hers.

       ‘My dear, you’re a diamond of the first water. I don’t know how you could have thought

otherwise. I swear I have never seen eyes as beautiful as yours or…..’ He stopped, and she saw the blood flow into his cheeks and realized he had been going to say something decidedly indelicate. Suddenly she felt liberated, able to say exactly what she thought.

* * * *

Even with her fiancé she had never felt this free.

       ‘Are you, by any chance, referring to my womanly curves, sir? I shall never be mistaken for a country bumpkin when I’m dressed as I should be, that is certain.’

She thought she had gone too far, that she had shocked him by her outspokenness and wished her words unsaid. He ducked his head, hiding his expression and she wondered why he was hunched forward as if in pain.

       ‘Is something wrong, sir? Are you unwell?’

His voice was unexpectedly gruff. ‘A touch of gripe, nothing to worry about. Why don’t you take a turn around the room and allow me to recover ? I shall join you as soon as I’m ready.’

       She rose, trying not to let her knees brush his. A hand shot out taking one of hers in a grip that was almost painful. She felt the roughness of his thumb circling and a strange heat rushed to her nether regions making her feel unsettled. She should withdraw immediately, retreat to the safety of the large bay window, but something made her wish to move closer, to feel that hand stoke her in other places.

Shocked rigid by her wanton thoughts, she snatched it back and almost ran to hide in the shadow of the semi-circular window. She turned to stare out across the drenched terrace and down the vista which her grandfather had created.

 He had turned a modest Tudor mansion into a substantial property and had wished to employ the services of Capability Brown, but could not afford his fees. Instead he had copied faithfully from a picture plate and achieved the same result. The formal parterre and ornamental gardens had been ripped up and replaced with lawns and groups of trees; at the far end of this the sparkle of an ornamental lake and attracted attention. Even in the pouring rain the view was still beautiful.

She heard the chair move. She didn’t know how to react when Mr Reed was close to her saying outrageous things and causing her to behave quite out of character. She sensed him approaching and inhaled his distinctive aroma of lemon and leather. She waited for him to speak, grateful that he stood a good arm’s length away.

‘I have a similar panorama on my estate. Whoever built this must have employed the services of Capability Brown. Am I correct in my assumptions?’

       She relaxed, this was a subject she was happy to converse on indefinitely. Her knowledge of the land was as good as any man’s, but for some reason she said something else entirely. ‘Forgive me, sir, I have to ask, why do you associate with an evil man? Lord Wydale is not like you. You’re a good man, I could tell that as soon as I met you.’

She turned to see his face when he answered. She knew she should not have mentioned her fears, knew she had breached the rules of etiquette. She waited for his reply, expecting it to be a severe set down. Her companion continued to stare morosely out across the landscape then, like her, he swung inwards.

‘You’re right to ask me. It’s a long story, perhaps one day I shall tell you the whole, but let it suffice to say that we shared a miserable childhood together and if it wasn’t for his help when I was at school I doubt I should have survived; he showed me how to rise above physical abuse and appear indifferent.’