Laura Matthews (22 page)

Olivia laughed. “I should not think so, for she intimated that she would see her ‘correspondent’ when she returned to her father’s house.”

“I shall persist in believing that their love is being thwarted,” Julianna asserted with a lift of her chin, “and I have every sympathy for her.”

“Did your mother thwart you in seeing Mr. Cutler in town?” Olivia asked with as much empathy as she could manage in her voice.

“She could not,” her friend said stiffly. “Alexander is invited everywhere, Olivia, and we saw him continually at balls and routs. You would not believe how the other young ladies envied me his ... attentions. There is no one else in London half so handsome or so gay; everyone said so.”

“Did he frighten away all the other young men from you then?”

“Not at all! They were intrigued by his obvious partiality and buzzed round like bees.” Juliana laughed awkwardly. “Mama was very pleased about that of course, and never hesitated to point out to me when Alexander was with another lady so that I might pay attention to some other man. But his devotion was not swayed, I assure you, even by the diamond of the season, Esther Draskin. She is quite beautiful, but Alexander assured me that she has not a thing to say for herself.”

“Peter says that is often the case with the beauties and the heiresses, but it never seemed to keep him from hanging about them. I hope he will make Lady Elizabeth a decent husband.”

Julianna shook her head doubtfully. “He’ll probably pay not the least attention to her after their honeymoon. I think he already has his eye on a very charming lady married to an old codger who does not bother to accompany her to town.” She stopped abruptly when she realized that the description was not far off from what might be applied to her brother. With a painful flush she rushed on, “I must see that my clothes are put away properly, Olivia. Tomorrow I’ll show you all the new things I’ve brought from town, but now I must see if I can unearth the lovely shawl I found for you. Please excuse me, my dear.”

When Julianna returned to her room she found her mother seated formally in a straight-backed chair while the maid nervously unpacked a trunk under her watchful eye. The maid was dismissed on Juliana’s arrival, and Lady Lawrence turned the full effect of her scowl
on her daughter.

“It is difficult enough,” Lady Lawrence said coldly, “to face Noah’s wife under the circumstances without your assistance in adding hurtful details, Julianna.”

“I know, Mama.” Her daughter paced agitatedly about the room, avoiding her mother’s eyes. “I have apologized to Olivia for my behavior, but I seem only to make matters worse.”

The dowager wagged her head sadly, the anger diminishing while the frown remained. “I cannot excuse Noah’s behavior in this matter, but you and I shall have to endeavor to do the best we can. Keep her occupied, Julianna, and make light of your brother’s travels. It may be that he has a legitimate reason for being in France, though I cannot conceive what it would be.” The older woman rose wearily and placed a hand on her daughter’s arm. “You must not let our differences cause pain to your new sister.”

Julianna bowed her head and said softly, “I would not do anything to hurt Olivia, believe me. In future I shall watch my tongue.”

Her mother nodded and left her alone. Before summoning the maid to continue her unpacking, Julianna drew a note from her reticule. She perused it carefully, buoyed up once more by Alexander’s professions of devotion and his assurance that he would soon be in the countryside with her. The note was then carefully placed in her dressing table under a pair of gloves she seldom wore.

* * * *

While Françoise concentrated her attention on the vicomte, Noah took to making secret excursions into the West Wing when he could detach himself from the house party. Having learned that there was no access to the vicomte’s office from the exterior, it being a floor above ground level, he determined
to check whether it was always locked. Noah was careful to avoid meeting anyone, as he had no business in that part of the house, but on one foray he found himself in the middle of a corridor with nowhere to hide when M. Dupin rounded the corner ahead of him and regarded Noah with frowning surprise.

Nonplussed for a moment, Noah quickly murmured, “Ah, just the man I was looking for.”

“You should have sent for me, Sir Noah.”

“No, no. There was not the least need to disturb you from your work. Though who can work on such a fine day...” Desperately he scoured his mind for a reasonable excuse for being found alone in the West Wing. “It is merely a matter of a case of wine which I have been offered in the village for a very reasonable price, but I am not familiar with it.” He named the most rare vintage he could recall from his own cellars.

“You have found a case here?” the astonished secretary asked.

“So I am told. I have not seen it as yet. Do you think there is something strange about the business?”

“Be sure of it! There is not a bottle to be had, as I well know, having been on the lookout for the vicomte’s own cellars for some time.” M. Dupin attempted to hide his disdain for so gullible an Englishman, but he was not entirely successful.

“That settles the matter, of course. I thank you.” Noah gave a brief nod and strolled away in the opposite direction.

The close call and a lack of any means to enter the office, which might or might not contain the documents for which he searched, determined him to abandon his efforts. His wife—to say nothing of his mother and sister—would already be annoyed with him for his long absence.

Of course, he could do precisely what he wanted, but he
wanted
to be with his wife again. He had not the least desire to hurt her. It was, in fact, his intention to pamper her. Already he had accumulated a number of gifts for her in his wanderings, and he was eager to see her reception of them. Shortly, a message (of his own devising) arrived summoning him to London.

Françoise pouted and his host politely regretted the necessity of his departure, but he bid them farewell at breakfast and retreated to his room to see his portmanteaux quickly packed. Although rumors of brigands in the neighborhood had been scornfully denied over the meal, even in his room in the South Wing he could hear a commotion growing which belied such overconfidence. At first his only thought was of the possible inconvenience this might cause to his leaving, and he rang for a footman to convey his belongings down to the stables where a hired carriage awaited him.

The servant arrived agog with happenings at the main gate. “A rabble with staves and rocks are trying to smash in the gate. Perhaps you should not leave just now, sir.”

“There are surely other exits,” Noah protested.

“Several, but there may be more of the brigands in the neighborhood.”

“Well, be so good as to carry my portmanteaux down in readiness. I shall leave when I can.”

“It should not be long, sir. The Vicomte de Preslin has rushed to attend to the matter.”

Noah, suddenly offered one last opportunity, impatiently watched the man’s exit. In such an emergency it was just possible that the vicomte’s office door would have been left unlocked, had he been there at the time the information reached him. Noah headed directly for the West Wing.

The corridor was deserted and the door shut but Noah found that it opened when he turned the brass handle. Slipping quickly inside, he closed the door and looked about him. The cabinet and desk were closed and locked, he discovered when he tried them. If he had such papers, in which would he be most likely to store them? Deciding on the desk, he looked about for some article with which to work on the locks, but there was nothing.

Confound the man for his tidy habits! From his pocket he withdrew his own keys, choosing the smallest as the most appropriate. But this was not an ordinary desk lock and the small key merely rattled in the hole. A somewhat larger key was a closer fit and he worked with it for some minutes before he heard a click, almost indiscernible against the sound of shots being fired outside.

A hurried search of the drawer disclosed nothing of interest to him. When he had begun to work on the lock of a second drawer,
he heard footsteps in the hall and froze where he sat. The windows were his only means of escape, and the office was a floor above ground. He hastened to unlatch a window and contemplated the drop from the balcony as the footsteps came closer. His grip on his cane tightened as he strained to hear the sounds from the corridor over the noise from the main courtyard. The hurrying footsteps passed by.

Noah hesitated a moment before returning to the desk. An image of Preslin’s cold eyes and harsh mouth rose in his mind and was pushed aside. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and palms, and set to work on the second drawer. After what seemed an eternity the lock clicked, and he slid open the drawer: the dispatches rested on a neat stack of the vicomte’s personal papers. A quick scan assured him that they were the originals.

As he closed the drawer and slid the dispatches into his pocket, he heard more footsteps in the corridor and once again hastened to the window which he had left open. There was no mistaking the vicomte’s stentorian tones and those of the deferential M. Dupin. Noah gained the balcony and closed the window behind him. Any jump was preferable to being discovered in the vicomte’s office in possession of the English dispatches. Without another thought, and grateful there was no one in sight, he leaped.

Chapter Twenty

Olivia endeavored to maintain a cheerful front for her mother-and sister-in-law, but the longer Noah stayed away from home, the more distressed and resentful she became. After the awkwardness of Lady Lawrence and Julianna’s arrival home, Olivia felt no inclination to share her knowledge that she was with child. Dr. Davenport had confirmed her condition, and had been sworn to silence on the subject. She stubbornly adhered to her determination to apprise Noah of the information first if it were at all possible.

As she had promised, Julianna was more careful in future when speaking with her brother’s wife, but Olivia found her preoccupied. One day as they strolled into Welling, Julianna announced, “Alexander is due home today.”

“Oh, have you heard from him?” Olivia was surprised that Lady Lawrence would allow the two to correspond.

The other girl started guiltily and rearranged the cover of her basket. Mrs. Trambor, her music teacher, had been kind enough to allow Julianna to receive Alexander’s letters through her, but Julianna had no wish to cause any trouble for the good woman. “When we left London, he suggested this date for his arrival,” she answered carefully. “He wished to stay for your brother’s wedding.”

“I see.” Olivia attempted
to work some enthusiasm into her voice. “We shall look forward to having him call at the Towers and tell us all about the wedding.”

“He may not call right away.”

But Alexander had no hesitation in doing so. He was perfectly willing to beard Lady Lawrence in her den, and would have done it more often (despite her barely civil behavior), if Julianna had not pleaded with him to moderate his visits. “No one,” he whispered to her as Lady Lawrence poured their tea across the room, “could object to my calling on you when we have not seen each other for weeks, and I am but returned to the country.”

Olivia, a witness to Lady Lawrence’s frown, sought to draw the couple into general conversation. “Mr. Cutler, I would be especially interested to hear of my brother’s wedding ceremony. I understand you attended it.”

“It was more a performance than a ceremony, Lady Olivia,” he laughed. “Never saw such elegant trappings—red carpets all over the place, so many flowers that half the ladies sneezed through the entire service, and Lord Bolenham declaiming his lines as though he were in the latest drama at Drury Lane. The train of Lady Elizabeth’s gown was so studded with diamonds that I expected all the rolled-up gentry to follow after her on their knees so that they might recover any stone that came loose.”

“And were my brothers Charles and Samuel there?”

“Oh, yes,
everyone
was there. Well, not Mrs. Dyer, of course. She and Lady Elizabeth are still at odds, but it seems to have no effect on the lovely Lila. I understand she is already ensconced at Herstwood for the summer, as Lord and Lady Edmonston are connections of hers, and they left town some weeks ago.”

Lady Lawrence chose to change the subject. “And your parents, Mr. Cutler? Are they well? Did your sister enjoy the season?”

“My esteemed parents are in high gig, Lady Lawrence, as the result of this season may be that my sister is married off. They have every expectation that Mr. Topptor will come up to scratch. Norissa is coyly uncertain about it, herself, but the gentleman has been invited to our home, and accepted with gratifying alacrity, according to my mother.”

Glancing nervously at her mother, who was not likely to take this careless description of the romance with approbation, Julianna suggested that she, Olivia and Alexander might walk in the garden. Her mother made no objection, and Olivia found herself a not particularly welcome third. She would not have accompanied them at all, of course, except that she knew Lady Lawrence expected it of her, so she fell behind the couple to gather flowers and closed her ears to their whispered conversation.

As the days passed, however, Olivia was convinced that somehow the two managed more privacy than Lady Lawrence would have approved. Although Julianna was frequently in Olivia’s company, Olivia was sure that she contrived to see Alexander without her mother’s knowledge. Lady Lawrence stoically accepted that she could not completely control her daughter even at Welling Towers, but her continual efforts to do the best she could caused a tense atmosphere to pervade the house.

* * * *

Noah’s leap took him onto a grassy mound which rose just beyond the flower border alongside the house. As he touched ground he heard an ominous crunch in his right ankle, which, due to the unevenness of the ground, had taken most of his weight. He cast a hasty glance back up at the balcony, but there was no one there, and he tentatively put his weight on the injured leg.