Sally James (14 page)

Chapter 8

“Where have you been? Oh, you wicked girl, causing me all this worry! How dare you!” Mrs Standish greeted Teresa.

“Mama, do not be disturbed, I have come to no harm. Oh, so you are back, Ingram? It is you upsetting Mama, is it? This time, Mama dear, it was a
real
accident. It was simply that my horse cast his shoe and we had to walk some way before we could find a smithy. That is all, and I am sorry you have been worried, but there was no need, for Matthew takes very good care of me!”

She looked challengingly at Sir Ingram, a smile playing on her lips. He returned her look unsmilingly.

“Why did you tell me you intended to drive home with your mother?” Mary put in, angry at the air of nonchalance Teresa displayed.

“Mary! Forgive me, I did not realise you were here. I am most truly sorry, but I suddenly felt better and changed my mind. We set off after you, but before we could come up with you the horse cast his shoe, as I have said. Did you all imagine we had eloped again? Was
that
what put you all into such a pucker?”

She laughed, but kept a wary eye on Sir Ingram. Matthew had not uttered a word, but looked decidedly uncomfortable, glancing across at Mary from time to time as Teresa made her explanation.

“I thought you might have raised some money by selling your pearls, and eloped again while Ingram was away,” Mrs Standish explained in her turn. “My precious darling, I have been so set about with anxiety. You cannot understand what a mother feels!”

“You may explain that to her later, Aunt Cecy. I propose now to escort Miss Wyndham home. Thank you for coming in response to my aunt’s note, Miss Wyndham, and I regret it was necessary to trouble you. Mr Wyndham, will you be so kind as to call on me in my lodgings tomorrow morning? Miss Wyndham, shall we go?”

Unable to think of a way of refusing his offer, Mary uttered brief goodbyes to the others, noting with some satisfaction that Matthew had paled at the last words of Sir Ingram, and passed out of the room. A footman was sent round to the mews to order Sir Ingram’s curricle and within a few minutes it was outside the front door. They had waited in an uneasy silence, and Mary did not speak other than to murmur her thanks as Sir Ingram handed her up into the vehicle.

“You need not come, Grant,” he said to the groom, and shook the reins, holding the horses in to a walk as they crossed Laura Place.

“I had thought you would have had greater influence with your brother and my cousin, and persuaded them to behave with more decorum,” he remarked conversationally a few minutes later.

Mary gasped at this attack. “I am aware that I allowed them to fool me today,” she retorted swiftly, “but I am not nursemaid to either of them! Matthew is of age and does what he chooses. As for Teresa, I do not see how
I
can be expected to exercise any control over her when her mother is present!”

“Softly! I did not say control, rather influence. Teresa likes you, and I hoped, as I said at the Wards’ dinner the other evening, that you might be able to guide her, by an example. You must confess that my dear Aunt Cecy is hardly the woman to have a good influence on her daughter, or even to be able to control her! I felt I could depend on you to exert yourself on her behalf. She needs help.”

“Well, I have tried, and failed, and do not see what else I might have done today,” Mary said angrily. “I am not her keeper, and while you refuse to permit a proper betrothal between her and my brother I cannot feel I have any right to attempt to influence her beyond the rights of friendship!”

“But if you were to be connected to her by marriage, you would consider you had the right?” he asked smoothly.

“Since that eventuality seems remote after what they have done to annoy you, I cannot see the purpose of such speculation. Besides, she would then be Matthew’s responsibility,” Mary replied. “She is now yours, at any event, not mine!”

“Then I must see what I can do,” he commented, and Mary suspected angrily that he was laughing at her.

They reached Queen Square and he halted the curricle outside the house.

“Can you jump down? I cannot leave the horses.”

Mary disdained the hand he held out to assist her, and sprang lightly down, turning to thank him coldly for having seen her home.

“I shall no doubt see you tomorrow,” he replied. “Goodnight, and thank you for what you have tried to do for my wretched cousin.”

The door had been opened, and Mary did not reply to this, but nodded and went into the house to find that Caroline had retired to bed and was asleep. There was no one with whom she could discuss Teresa’s latest escapade, and she tossed and turned in bed for half the night before dropping into a troubled sleep that left her heavy eyed and with a headache the following morning, so that she pleaded this as an excuse not to go out but to remain quietly at home.

Caroline returned from her morning treatment earlier than usual to see whether Mary was well enough to go that evening to a dance at the Assembly Rooms.

“By the way, I have asked Jonathan to escort us tomorrow,” she added.

“To escort us?” Mary asked blankly.

“Yes, to visit Mr Knowle. Had you forgot that tomorrow was the day we had planned for the visit? Of course, if you do not feel quite the thing we could send our excuses.”

“No, I must not cry off, that would be unpardonable. Oh, dear, but it had completely slipped from my memory! How dreadful!”

“I saw Matthew briefly,” Caroline went on, “and he begged that if we could arrange for another escort, we would excuse him. Jonathan was only too willing to oblige me when he realised he would thereby spend most of the day in your company!”

Mary frowned. “You imagine it,” she replied shortly. “Was Matthew in a very bad humour?”

“A mite embarrassed, naturally, after yesterday’s prank. I was puzzled, to be honest, for he seemed to have an air of excitement about him. He had just been talking with Sir Ingram before he came across to me. You do not think that he has relented, do you?”

“I would hardly expect it, after his attitude last night. I expect Matthew has thought up something else to annoy us! Well, I have washed my hands of the whole business and he can do as he pleases!” Mary declared.

Nonetheless, intrigued to see how her brother conducted himself after what she had assumed would be an awkward interview that morning, she observed him with some interest later in the evening. He did not seem to behave any more circumspectly than usual towards Teresa, judging by the way he made straight for her side when he entered the ballroom, and remained with her for some time before reluctantly coming to pay his respects to Mary and Caroline.

“We went to a bang-up race this afternoon,” he said boyishly after greeting them, and seeing that Mary did not intend to reprove him. “Sir Ingram took me, for it was a private affair, and he knew one of the fellows taking part. His friend won, too!”

“You seem on better terms with him,” Mary said, smiling. “Does that mean he has forgiven you, and begins to favour your suit?”

Matthew looked embarrassed. “He’s making an effort to be pleasant,” he admitted, “but he will not discuss Teresa.”

“Do you still think him capable of what Teresa suspects?” Mary asked, lowering her voice.

“It’s difficult to, but what other explanation can there be?” Matthew replied, looking troubled. “I do not know what to believe!”

It was left at that, for Paul Ward then appeared to ask Mary to dance, and when they had finished neither Teresa nor Matthew were visible. Sir Ingram had arrived, however, and he soon approached Mary and asked for the next dance.

“I am gaining a better impression of your brother,” he said abruptly as he led her onto the floor.

Mary looked up at him. “Just because he has some tastes that are similar to your own?” she asked quickly, and he laughed.

“Not solely for that reason. He stood up to me in an admirable fashion this morning. No, I have hopes he might after all be capable of controlling my dear cousin. He is not so infatuated as I thought, and that bodes well, for she will respect him the more.”

“Does that mean you will give your permission?” Mary asked hopefully.

He looked down at her and smiled, causing her heart to perform acrobatics and leaving her breathless.

“Not necessarily,” he replied slowly, then grinned. “I am loath to abandon my role as the wicked cousin. Although,” he went on as Mary flashed him a startled look, “Teresa is either remarkably daring, or exceedingly foolhardy, if she really believes in her own theories!”

Mary laughed, uncertainly. “She exaggerates, I am sure, and does not truly believe what she says,” she murmured.

“She permits her imagination to run riot, and dramatises unmercifully. But I shall not relent merely to disapprove her fantasies.”

“Then what do you mean to do?”

He smiled, disturbingly. “I may need to keep it as a bribe,” he said softly. “Come, let me procure you a drink.”

Wondering what he had meant, Mary allowed him to lead her through to the tea room, and she was soon settled at a table with the refreshments he had obtained for her.

“How are you enjoying Bath?” he asked as he sat down beside her.

“Enormously, apart from Matthew and Teresa,” she said frankly, and he laughed delightedly.

“Precisely my own sentiments! How much longer do you propose remaining?”

“I am not sure. My father may be returning to Appleacre soon, although I am not certain when, and he will need me when he does. Caroline is so much better that she may soon be able to go home, and then of course I would go too. Which occurs first I cannot say!”

“Do you never act to please yourself?”

She looked up at him, expecting mockery, but she could not read the expression in his eyes.

“Frequently,” she assured him, “but I do not see how my return home could be described so! This visit was made expressly to help Caroline, and it happened to suit my father for me to be away. It has suited me too!”

“Despite Matthew and Teresa! Miss Wyndham, there is so much to be discussed, and here is not the place! Will you drive out with me tomorrow morning?”

Surprised, but assuming that he meant to talk further about Matthew and Teresa, she accepted, and then recalled she was engaged to drive out to visit Mr Knowle.

“Oh, dear, I cannot tomorrow,” she said, and explained.

“The day afterwards, then,” he suggested easily, and when she agreed promised to call for her at her lodgings. Then he talked about some of their Bath acquaintances, retailing many anecdotes and providing her with much amusement. Leading her back into the ballroom he danced with her again and then, when she was claimed by another partner, went to talk with Caroline and a group of her friends. Afterwards he disappeared, for when Mary looked again for him he was nowhere to be seen.

Teresa was in an excited mood, bubbling over with high spirits, and Mary noticed that Matthew seemed to be paying her as much attention as ever before. That probably accounted for her air of satisfaction, Mary decided, and hoped, since Sir Ingram seemed to be on the point of relenting, they would not do something idiotic to offend him.

Mary was in a happier frame of mind than she had enjoyed for some time. Caroline had observed her dancing with Sir Ingram and noted the long time she had been with him in the tea room, but discreetly avoided any direct reference to it.

“Oh, Jonathan gave me his apologies, for he cannot accompany us tomorrow,” she said as they reached home. “It was something his mother had arranged that he would do and he was most put out. But it did not matter, Sir Ingram was there and offered to come in his stead. I hope you do not object?”

For some reason Mary was most reluctant to accept his escort on the visit they were to make, but she could not give any satisfactory reasons for her instinctive recoil, and had to assure Caroline that he would be welcome.

Caroline, who had seen the gleam of unholy amusement in Sir Ingram’s eyes when he had made the offer, had difficulty in schooling her own countenance to a becoming gravity when she observed Mary’s embarrassment. She wondered what the following day would bring for her friend, but as they were to start early, recommended they went to bed at once, so that there was no discussion.

On the following morning the chaise they had hired was bowling out of the town, with Sir Ingram riding beside it, before most of the visitors had risen from their beds.

Mr Knowle was awaiting them when they drew up before a large, commodious rectory, set beside an old, squat, towered church on one side of the village green. To the right side of the green was the entrance to the manor house, which could be glimpsed through a thin belt of trees, and cottages sprawled round the other two sides, with half a dozen or so more substantial houses, rather similar to the one Mary lived in at Appleacre, clustered at the furthest point from the church.

Mr Knowle had stared for a moment with undisguised hostility at Sir Ingram when the latter dismounted and held out his hand, but then had pulled himself together and greeted him politely.

“A delightful setting, is it not?” Mr Knowle asked proudly as they stood and surveyed the village. “The squire is an educated man, very intent on doing his best for all his tenants, and there are some agreeable people living here. Altogether a most felicitous place in which to live.”

They duly registered their admiration, and then were taken into the drawing room, a spacious, comfortable chamber, to partake of the wine and cakes Mr Knowle’s housekeeper had provided. She was a plump, friendly woman, and she eyed Mary with especial curiosity, causing Mary much discomfort as she wondered whether Mr Knowle had hinted at his hopes, or whether the woman had merely drawn her own conclusions from this visit.

After they had rested Mr Knowle took them on a tour of the house, expounding on its comforts in a fashion which, as Caroline said afterwards, would have done credit to a man endeavouring to sell the place.

“Which I suppose he was,” she added thoughtfully.

Later they strolled into the gardens, and while they were walking through the shrubbery along a path that led to the church, Mr Knowle slowed his pace, allowing Caroline and Sir Ingram, who had gone on in front of them, to pass out of earshot. Then he broached the subject Mary had been expecting with some dread.