Heir to Rowanlea (16 page)

Swinging round he strode across and went into the anteroom. The pair were seated on a small satin-covered sofa, and laughing. Charlotte, indeed, was almost convulsed with it, and Richard was holding his sides.

“What the devil?” Harry asked, feeling rather stupid for his suspicions. “You oughtn’t to be here alone,” he added.

“I know, but I’d have disgraced myself if I hadn’t been able to hide,” Charlotte said, still giggling. “And it’s all perfectly innocent, and now you are here, Harry, so no one can criticize us.”

“But what is so amusing?”

“Claude,” Charlotte began, and once more dissolved into giggles.

Richard began to explain.

“The dance had ended and we were going back to Lady Weare, when we happened to pass Claude talking to Clarkson. Well, to be precise, he wasn’t talking, he was gobbling like a turkey cock. Clarkson asked him who the little ladybird was he’d been seen with earlier, and whether Claude would introduce him, for she looked a tasty little piece.”

“We stopped to listen,” Charlotte added. “I don’t think Elizabeth would like to know that Claude is keeping a mistress.”

“You ought not to know about such things,” Harry felt bound to say. “Or at least not talk about them.”

“Pooh! I’ve heard you and Jack talk about the girls, and seen them parading at Drury Lane, showing off and presumably looking for protectors. But those girls were dressed in all their finery, and Sir David described this one as looking starved and wearing rags, even though she was so pretty. When Claude said something, which we couldn’t hear, Sir David said he ought to look after her better, and that was when Claude started to threaten him, but he was so incoherent he could hardly spit the words out. Sir David asked him if he wanted to call him out for insulting his light o’ love, and then walked away. I do think if he’d stayed Claude would have called him out,” she added wistfully. “That would have solved everything, for Richard has heard he’s a famous marksman.”

“You are an unprincipled brat. Come and dance with me, if you can stop this giggling.”

He nodded to Richard and led Charlotte out to the ballroom where a country dance was about to start, but his thoughts were not on the movements, and several times Charlotte or the other dancers had to prompt him. What did it mean? Did Claude have a mistress? Was she as poor as Sir David seemed to think? He ought to be pleased Claude was not spending his blunt on women, but if he were serious about Elizabeth, ought Harry to speak to her and warn her?

He shook his head impatiently. Of course he could do nothing of the kind, she would assume he was jealous, trying to cause trouble. A pity she had no brother he could have had a quiet word with. Finally he decided it was none of his business, and he forced himself to pay attention to the dancing. When that set finished, however, he took his departure. He was in no mood for dancing with anyone else, and wanted to sit and think seriously.

* * * *

Harry arrived for dinner on the following day in a far from encouraging mood, merely nodding to Claude, making the briefest of greetings to his Aunt Claudine and Monsieur de Vauban, and then, after smiling bleakly at Charlotte and her mother, drawing his father to the far end of the room where he engaged him in a low-voiced conversation. Fortunately, before Lady Norville could become more than mildly irritated by this behavior, the Maines were announced.

Charlotte watched Harry closely, and saw he retired to a seat beyond the center of the room after greeting the new arrivals, and seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, staring at the carpet—a new one Lady Norville had bought to replace the previous one which she had declared too shabby for words—instead of at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth had drawn a little to one side and was talking animatedly with Claude, who was paying her flattering attentions, while the older Maines were occupied with Lady Norville and her brother.

The dinner table did not offer Harry any opportunity of conversing with Elizabeth, for she had been placed on Claude’s left, with Monsieur de Vauban next to her. Harry was on the opposite side of the table, between Mrs Maine on Claude’s right and Charlotte, who had her uncle on her other side. Since Harry seemed disinclined to talk except when politeness forced him to pay attention to Mrs Maine, Charlotte had plenty of liberty to observe Elizabeth. She noticed with amused contempt that Monsieur de Vauban was attempting to flirt with her in a somewhat heavy-handed Gallic way, and firmly had to suppress the bitterness that attacked her when Elizabeth responded to his overtures with apparent willingness. Her attitude to Claude, however, made Charlotte clench her hands tightly under the table. The girl was obviously set on charming the young man, and he appeared only too willing to be charmed, paying her lavish compliments—as Charlotte assumed from the satisfied expression on Elizabeth’s face, though Claude spoke too softly for her to hear the actual words. She wondered whether she ought to tell Elizabeth what she had overheard at the ball, but decided the girl had treated Harry so badly she probably would not believe her. Perhaps, if her other scheme failed, she would think about it again. In any case, was it true?

It was an uncomfortable meal for Charlotte, for her Uncle Henry was in a thoughtful mood, and when not having to talk to Lady Norville he paid little attention to Charlotte beyond asking her how she was enjoying the season, and then retreating into his own reverie and not listening to her reply. She was thankful when Lady Norville gave the signal for the ladies to leave the dining-room.

Upstairs in the drawing-room Elizabeth showed no signs of wishing to draw apart with Charlotte, as most young ladies would have done, but instead seated herself beside Lady Norville, saying admiringly that she envied her the modiste who had fashioned the gown she was wearing. Lady Norville preened herself, but Charlotte’s attention was caught by hearing Mrs Maine remark to her mother she had been surprised to see Lady Weare leaving a house in Hill Street the previous day.

“Normally I would have assumed you were making a visit there, but I happened to know the Blounts left town a week ago.”

Charlotte glanced at her mother in surprise, for she had known nothing of this, and it was unusual for her mother not to have told her of all her doings. To her utter amazement she saw that Lady Weare was blushing as rosily as a girl, and almost stammering as she attempted to reply to Mrs Maine.

“I—it is for sale, as perhaps you know,” she said at last. “There are so few suitable houses available in a good part of town that I was fortunate to hear of it.”

“I was not aware you proposed moving,” Lady Norville put in, matriarchal disapproval in her voice.

“We can scarce impose on your hospitality for ever, Claudine,” Lady Weare responded, her composure returning.

“Oh, as to that you are very welcome, Sophia, but in the end we will both have to remove from here. I should start looking for a suitable house for myself soon. Did you decide to take this one? If not, I must look at it for us.”

“For you?” Charlotte exclaimed, her recent conversation with Claude fresh in her mind. “You do not mean to sell this house, do you?”

“That is for Claude to say, is it not, dear? But no, I was thinking more of the time when Claude wishes to marry, and his bride will wish to have a say in where they are to live, and will most certainly not desire her mother-in-law to live with them!”

“Is Claude contemplating marriage?” Mrs Maine asked quickly.

“He has not confided in me yet, but with so many beautiful girls to choose from I would not be surprised. I merely desire to be beforehand with my arrangements when he does. After all, he feels very strongly his responsibilities towards Rowanlea and the family,” she added with a slight smile towards Lady Weare.

Charlotte, watching Elizabeth closely, saw her glance across at her mother, a small secret smile playing on her lips. Mrs Maine turned back to Lady Weare.

“I had no notion the Blounts contemplated selling,” she remarked.

“They are getting old, and feel it is time to give up the town house,” Lady Weare said with a slight smile.

“They are distant cousins of Mr Penharrow, are they not?” Mrs Maine persisted.

Lady Weare nodded.

“That is how I came to hear of it,” she said quickly. “He supposed I would be wanting to move soon, and was kind enough to mention it to me. But tell me, what did you think of the play last night? I saw you there, although I had no opportunity of speaking with you.”

She firmly resisted all other attempts by Lady Norville and Mrs Maine to talk about the house, and kept the conversation on other matters until the men joined them. After that Charlotte was too concerned observing Elizabeth’s behavior towards Claude to spare any attention to the puzzle of why her mother should have kept her plans to herself.

Claude had come to sit beside Elizabeth as soon as he had entered the room, and she seemed to welcome his overtures. Lady Norville had claimed Mrs Maine’s attention, and Charlotte found herself drawn a little to one side by Harry, who led her to a sofa near one of the windows.

“Has Claude said any more about selling off the farms?” he demanded in a low voice.

“Not to me.” Charlotte shook her head. “But Harry, his mother has just said she will be looking for another house, ‘for us’, she said, although she afterwards explained that she had meant to move when—if—Claude married! It seems as though they might be planning to sell this house!”

Harry stared at her in dismay.

“I suppose she may have been including her brother,” he said at last. “The fellow seems to have no intention of returning to France, and possibly they mean to set up home together. That must be it. Is Claude planning to marry?”

“She would not say, and for myself I would not think it likely yet. He is only just twenty-one, and does not seem much in the petticoat line, despite what we heard Sir David saying. I’ve been thinking about that, and I wonder if Claude was so angry because the accusation was untrue. I am sure he pays attentions to females only to be in the fashion.”

“As now,” Harry commented drily. “He is certainly an adept at flirting judging by his behavior towards Elizabeth at dinner and now!”

“Well, you know, she is very pretty, and I think cannot help responding in the way she does to male flattery. It does not mean aught, I am convinced. I think she is merely being polite and welcoming to Claude, for despite everything he must feel strange here still.”

Harry regarded her quizzically.

“You have changed towards her,” he said, “even to believing she might have worthy motives! A few weeks ago you would have been the first to condemn her.”

“I have learned a great deal since I came out,” Charlotte replied defensively, “and I see she behaves in exactly the same manner as many other girls, and it means nothing.”

He did not reply to this, but spoke of something else, while his gaze still rested on the pair across the room. Charlotte was more than ever determined to aid Harry in winning Elizabeth, and the pain she felt at the thought was slightly mitigated by the realization that if she could succeed it would prick Claude’s self-esteem. Later she spoke quietly to Elizabeth, inviting her to visit her one morning soon.

“For I seem to have seen so little of you the last few weeks, and there is so much to talk of!”

Elizabeth, glancing across at Claude, smiled and agreed, and promised to come a few days later. Satisfied, Charlotte watched her go, and began to worry at the problem of how to manipulate satisfactorily the other persons in the drama she was about to enact.

* * * *

Harry himself was becoming more and more concerned with the fear that Claude, who appeared to have developed a passion for gaming, and was to be found most evenings at some club where the play was deep, would gamble away his fortune. Whatever he did to try and convince himself it was none of his affair, his mind kept reverting to the problem of how to warn Claude of the danger. Hearing from some of his cronies that Sir David Clarkson was often to be seen in his cousin’s company, and distrusting that gentleman excessively, he was driven, one evening shortly after the dinner party when he chanced to meet his cousin at White’s, to speak to him.

“I hear you are very familiar with Clarkson,” he said quietly, having maneuvered Claude into a corner from which he could not escape.

“What of it? Do you presume to dictate to me about my friends as well as my land?” Claude asked unpleasantly.

“I don’t care a damn whom you make friends with!” Harry snapped. “It’s simply that you haven’t been about London long enough to know Clarkson is regarded as a queer fish. Some say openly he’s a Greek! What is certain is that more than one young fool has been ruined after becoming too friendly with the fellow. Pauling seems to have been the latest, and had to go off to France some weeks back. I would hate to see you cheated!”

“And lose all chance of inheriting a profitable Rowanlea, hey?”

“I care for Rowanlea enough to wish for it not to be destroyed,” Harry said, keeping his temper with difficulty. “It matters naught to me, though I do not expect you to believe it, whether it belongs to you or my father, but I cannot bear to see what our forebears have built up over centuries wantonly thrown away, which is what will happen if you sell off all the farms and the unentailed property, and then gamble away the money.”

“I am inclined to believe you,” Claude said, looking curiously at Harry. “I have not sold any farms yet. But consider, Harry, I too have family feeling, but half of my family is near destitute, and in France. Be content, cousin, I am fortunate at cards, and you underestimate me if you think I can be cheated. Besides, I think I know more than you do about Sir David!”

* * * *

Not entirely reassured, but feeling more charitable towards his cousin than for a long time, Harry invited him to join his own party, and since none of the particular friends Claude had made in London were present, he readily agreed. They spent several hours pleasantly sampling the joys the club had to offer, and then, on Richard’s suggestion, retired to his rooms to continue with a private gaming party.