The Earl’s Mistletoe Bride (4 page)

Beth made her way slowly into the little parlour at the front of the house so that she would be able to see the comings and goings in the street. She might even be able to see Jonathan’s curricle. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’

‘Did I do something wrong, Miss Beth?’ Hetty sounded hurt.

Beth realised she had spoken aloud. ‘I am sorry,
Hetty. I was berating myself, not you.’ She shook her head. ‘This leg of mine refuses to do what I tell it.’ That was not the cause of her outburst, but it would do.

‘Mrs Aubrey said as you was to sit on the sofa with your leg up. And I was to bring you anything you needed.’

Beth gave in and subsided gratefully on to the sofa by the window. Before she could even draw breath, Hetty was lifting her bandaged leg on to the cushions. ‘There, miss. Now, what may I fetch you?’

‘If I am to lie here, like a pampered cat basking in the sun, I had better do something useful. If you would fetch me the mending, Hetty, I will make a start on that.’

Hetty returned with the mending basket. Beth, mindful of her latest resolution, selected the most difficult piece of work she could find. That should keep her mind occupied until Aunt Caro returned from her visiting. Being alone, and having time to think, was too dangerous. The last thing she needed was one of her sick headaches on top of a sprained ankle.

She had barely completed her first neat darn when Mrs Aubrey bustled in, removing her bonnet. She handed it to the maid. ‘Would you fetch us some tea, Hetty? I am sure Miss Beth would enjoy a cup.’

‘You are very good, ma’am, though I fear I have not earned it. Look how little I have done.’

‘You are an invalid, child. You should be taking your ease, with nothing more than a romantic novel to amuse you. Invalids do not mend shirts.’

‘This one does!’ Beth replied pertly, but with an affectionate smile.

Mrs Aubrey chuckled and sat down opposite Beth. ‘I
have visited Widow Jenkinson this morning. She sends her best wishes for your speedy recovery. She was sad to learn that you had not been brought to her house to escape the storm.’

‘It would have given her food for gossip for a month, especially if she had seen Jo—if she had seen his lordship carrying me up the path.’ Mrs Aubrey might have leave to use Jonathan’s given name, but Beth did not.

Mrs Aubrey chuckled again. ‘I made a quick visit to the lodge also, as I was passing, although Master Jonathan was not at home.’

Beth raised her eyebrows, feigning surprise. Mrs Jenkinson and the lodge were at opposite ends of the village. ‘Now
that
, young lady, is a most impudent look, I must say.’

Beth raised her eyebrows even higher.

‘Oh, very well. No, I was not passing, as we both know. I went there deliberately, to find out about how long he means to remain at Fratcombe, that kind of thing. The least we can do is invite him to take dinner with us. Once you are well enough, of course.’

The thought of seeing Jonathan again, and of the difficult exchanges that might ensue, made Beth’s head pound dangerously. ‘I had best remain upstairs, ma’am. His lordship and the rector will have much to discuss. To have me hobbling about would be an unwelcome distraction.’

‘Now that is a whisker, if ever I heard one.’ Mrs Aubrey shook a mittened finger in mock reproof, but her eyes were twinkling. ‘I shall pretend that I did not hear it at all.’

Hetty appeared with the tea tray and placed it carefully on the table in front of Mrs Aubrey. Just at that moment, someone plied the knocker, with considerable force.

Mrs Aubrey started. ‘Goodness, who can that be, so early in the day? Hetty, go and open the door. Slowly.’ Mrs Aubrey grabbed the mending out of Beth’s fingers, bundled it into the basket and pushed the basket under a chair in the darkest corner of the room. Then she scurried back to resume her seat, clasping her hands demurely in her lap.

Beth was hard put to keep her face straight.

‘The Earl of Portbury,’ Hetty announced, bobbing a curtsy.

He seemed much too large for the small family parlour.

Mrs Aubrey rose and dropped a tiny curtsy in response to her visitor’s elegant bow. ‘Master Jonathan! How kind of you to call. Will you take tea with us?’ He nodded. ‘Hetty, fetch another cup, if you please.’

He took a couple of paces into the room and bowed, separately, to Beth. She was suddenly so weak she could not even start to rise. Her body was remembering the feel of his arms around her, and softening, as if in anticipation. ‘Forgive me, my lord, I cannot—’

‘Pray do not attempt to move, Miss Aubrey. I am sure it took quite enough exertion for you to make your way downstairs this morning.’ He paused, frowning suddenly. Then, turning back to Mrs Aubrey, ‘Would you permit me to send over one of my footmen to help while Miss Aubrey is recovering? He could carry her up and
down the stairs. And you could use him for any other convenient chores.’

‘Master Jonathan, I should not dream—’

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘You would be doing me a favour, ma’am. There are far too many servants at the Manor and, with only myself in residence, they do not have nearly enough to do. I cannot abide idleness.’

‘Well…’

‘Am I not to be consulted in this project of yours, my lord?’ Beth’s voice sounded sharp in her own ears, for she had overcome her weakness by stoking her anger against him. He was treating her like a parcel. She would not allow that.

He turned to look down at her. The very faintest tinge of redness had appeared on his cheeks. ‘I beg your pardon.’ His voice grew quieter. ‘It was not my intention to impose on you.’

She softened again, instantly. He had sounded arrogant, but he surely meant well. She had no right to let her inner turmoil betray itself in bad temper. ‘Your offer is most generous, my lord, but it is not necessary. My ankle is mending extremely well and the more I exercise it, the sooner I shall be fully recovered.’

‘Very well, ma’am.’ He made to sit down beside Mrs Aubrey.

‘And I would suggest,’ Beth continued, feeling increasingly in control of this unequal encounter, ‘that if your servants are underemployed, you should put them to work in the village. I am sure Mrs Aubrey can provide you with a long list of chores and repairs which need to be done.’

‘Beth! You go too far!’

‘No, ma’am. Miss Aubrey is quite right. I noticed yesterday, in spite of the storm, that some of the houses need urgent work. My agent has been most remiss in allowing such dilapidation. The repairs will be put in hand today.’ He took a cup of tea from Mrs Aubrey and rose politely to carry it across to Beth. ‘However, I fear I must disappoint Miss Aubrey. I doubt that my footmen have the inclination, or the skills, to carry them out.’

Beth took her tea with a demure nod and pursed lips. Was he roasting her? She hoped so. Strangers did not tease. But he had kept a totally straight face so she could not be sure. Until she was, she certainly must not laugh.

‘Do you remain at Fratcombe long, Master Jonathan?’ Mrs Aubrey poured his tea and handed it to him.

‘Not on this occasion, ma’am, though I expect to return again quite soon. It is a huge change, from the army in Spain to the English countryside, I may tell you. There, our duty was simple—to fight the enemy. Since my return, I have been reminded of my other duties. To my various estates, for example, and to my position in society.’ His voice grated, as if he was finding duty a hard taskmaster. Then, quite suddenly, he smiled warmly at the old lady in a way that transformed him. His face was softer, younger, and his eyes were dancing. ‘Here, at the rectory, I know that I am welcomed as just an unruly lad who happens to have grown up. A little.’

Mrs Aubrey nodded, trying not to return his smile, but she could not conceal her fondness for Jonathan.

Beth swallowed. A knot of anxiety formed in her stomach. He had had the run of the rectory when he was
a boy. Did he intend to visit often, to renew his intimacy with the Aubreys? Oh dear. When he was relaxed like this, he was much too attractive. Soon, she would be dreaming of silver-clad knights again, and she must not! She could so easily betray herself. She must find some way of avoiding his company. It was the only solution.

Mrs Aubrey cleared her throat. ‘Perhaps you would tell us about your time in Spain?’

A sudden shadow crossed Jonathan’s face. ‘If you will forgive me, ma’am, I would prefer not to speak of it. Much of it was not…er…pleasant, particularly of late.’

‘I understand,’ the old lady said quietly. ‘We know that you were at the siege of Badajoz.’ They knew, too, that he had been mentioned in dispatches for his part in the final assault, but Mrs Aubrey would not embarrass him by mentioning it. ‘We read about the shameful outrages after the battle.’

He said nothing, but his face had assumed a very stern cast. Beth could not begin to imagine what he had experienced, or what he had seen, in that terrible siege and in the sack of the town which had followed. The casualties in the assault had been enormous, and the soldiers’ conduct in the town afterwards had been utterly sickening.

The awkward silence stretched between them. Jonathan did not even move to drink his tea, though his jaw and his throat were working. He was remembering terrible things, Beth was sure. She tried desperately to think of something to say, to distract him from his obvious pain.

Mrs Aubrey was before her. ‘So, Master Jonathan,
what do you think of your lady foundling now? She has improved a good deal, would you not say, from the drowned stray you carried across our doorstep last Christmas?’

‘What?
Miss Aubrey
is the lady from the clearing?’

S
hocked, and embarrassed, Jon moved in his seat to stare directly at the injured woman. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am,’ he began, the words tumbling out in his haste to apologise. ‘I had completely forgotten the incident until Mrs Aubrey mentioned it just now, because you look so—’ He stopped just in time and cleared his throat.

Yesterday, he had assumed Miss Aubrey was a true lady, even if only a poor relation. But she was not an Aubrey at all. The bedraggled woman he had rescued could be anything, even a woman from the gutter! He recalled thinking at the time that she
might
be a lady, but still…

She was really very attractive, now he took the time to look at her. He let his gaze travel slowly from her curly red-brown hair and perfect complexion down the slim curves of her body, finally coming to rest on her bandaged ankle. ‘Forgive me, but you look considerably more like a lady than you did then.’ It was no more than
the truth. But it was too stark. He had spoken without sufficient thought. Again! What on earth was the matter with him? Coupled with his brazen scrutiny, his words were almost an insult. She had turned bright scarlet.

Recollecting his manners at last, and the wisdom of silence, he busied himself with his teacup while he tried to gather his wits.

After a long pause, he turned to Mrs Aubrey and said, in a polite but neutral voice, ‘So our foundling has been here with you all this time? And with the name Aubrey? You did not discover her true identity?’

‘We did everything possible, including advertising—discreetly—in the newspapers for a missing woman by the name of Elizabeth. But none of it produced any information at all. It is as though poor Beth had emerged out of nothing, like a phantom.’

Jon turned back to ‘poor Beth’. Her heightened colour had drained away completely. ‘I am heartily sorry that nothing could be done, ma’am. And you have had no memory at all, not the least flash of anything, in all these months?’

‘No, my lord. Nothing.’ Her response was very swift, and very definite.

Jon could not help wondering whether he should believe her. He had heard of cases where unscrupulous people had preyed on their benefactors by pretending to have lost their memory. Might that have happened here? Was Beth Aubrey a fraud? Perhaps that was why she had turned so pale? The Aubreys were a generous couple who would never look for such duplicity. ‘It is very strange, I must say. Has Dr Willoughby nothing
to suggest on the matter? You have consulted him, I assume?’

‘If we had consulted him about Beth’s memory loss, it would have become common knowledge. Besides, what does a country doctor know of such things? So we—the rector and I—we allowed ourselves a little white lie. We gave out that Beth was a distant relation who had come to stay with us for a while, having no remaining close family of her own.’

‘I see. Then no one hereabouts knows how Miss Aubrey was discovered?’

‘Some of the gentry families suspect that Beth is not quite what she seems. I am sorry to say that some of them forget their Christian duty, and treat her like a servant, rather than a lady born and bred.’ Mrs Aubrey shook her head sorrowfully. ‘It is not what we would have expected of them.’

‘Nor I, ma’am. When I stayed here as a child, I was always struck by the kindness and generosity of all the great families of the district.’

‘That might have had something to do with the fact that you were heir to an earldom, sir.’ Miss Aubrey sounded waspish. Not surprising, perhaps, especially if her plight was genuine.

Jon looked assessingly at her and was struck by the direct way she met and held his gaze. She certainly had the air of a true lady. ‘As it happens, ma’am, I was not the heir then. That was my elder brother. But I do agree that my being the son of an earl might have coloured their judgement a little. And I am disappointed to learn that you have not always been accorded the respect due
to a lady. The rector’s sponsorship should be enough for anyone, however high their status.’

Yet again, he regretted his words the moment they were spoken. After all, the rector’s word had not been enough for
him
. Guilt pricked Jon’s conscience. He was responsible for this. He was the one who had rescued Beth; and the one who had foisted her on the Aubreys, even though he had not expected her to remain with them for long. If she was genuine, it was now Jon’s duty to ensure she was restored to her rightful place, however lowly that might be. And if she was a fraud, it was his duty to expose her. She was not to be a welcome diversion after all. She was just one more irksome duty to be discharged.

Mrs Aubrey laid a hand on his sleeve. ‘If
you
were seen to accept Beth, the other families would follow your lead, I am sure. As Earl of Portbury, you outrank them all.’

That was true, but was he prepared to do what she asked? Was it not his duty to satisfy himself, first of all, that Beth Aubrey was worthy of his support? He was still trying to decide how to reply when the sitting room door opened.

‘Lady Fitzherbert has called, ma’am, and asks if—’

The little maid was not allowed to finish. Lady Fitzherbert, resplendent in rustling purple silk and feather-trimmed bonnet, pushed the girl aside and marched into the room. She paused barely long enough to drop a disdainful curtsy to Mrs Aubrey before launching into an angry complaint. ‘I have come to consult the rector on a matter of urgent business, but your servant here
tells me that he is not at home to callers. I must protest, ma’am. Why, I am—’

Jon had risen at the same time as Mrs Aubrey but did nothing else to draw attention to himself. He waited to see what would happen next.

‘There has been some misunderstanding, I fear,’ Mrs Aubrey said simply. ‘The rector cannot see you because he is not at home. However, I expect him to return within the hour. Perhaps you would like to—?’

‘Why, Lord Portbury! How delightful to see you safely returned!’ Lady Fitzherbert abruptly turned aside from her hostess and sank into a very elegant curtsy.

Jon prepared himself for the worst kind of toadeating. Sir Bertram Fitzherbert and his detestable wife were relative newcomers to the district, but held themselves to be above everyone but the nobility. The Fitzherberts were bound to be among those who had slighted Beth Aubrey, for she was a nobody, with no social standing at all in their eyes.

In that instant, Jon decided their behaviour was an insult to him, as well as to the lady herself. Miss Aubrey was
his
foundling, after all. The rector’s word
should
be good enough for such upstarts as the Fitzherberts. This harpy needed to be taken down a peg or two.

‘Sir Bertram will be so pleased to learn that you are back in residence at the Manor,’ Lady Fitzherbert gushed. ‘There is so little truly genteel society hereabouts.’

‘Country society can be a little restricted, to be sure,’ Jon said, as soon as she paused to draw breath. ‘But you have several families within easy driving distance. And during my absence from Fratcombe, you have had
the rector and Mrs Aubrey. And Miss Aubrey, also.’ He stepped aside so that Lady Fitzherbert would see Beth lying on the sofa behind him. ‘You are already acquainted, I collect?’

‘I…er…’ Lady Fitzherbert’s nostrils flared and her lips clamped together. For several seconds, she stared down her long nose at Beth Aubrey. Then she half-turned back to Mrs Aubrey and drew herself up very straight. ‘Excuse me, I may not stay longer. Pray tell the rector, when he returns, that Sir Bertram is evicting that band of dirty gypsies who are trespassing on our land. Sir Bertram wished it to be understood that they should not be given shelter in the district. Not by
anyone
.’

Mrs Aubrey’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but her voice was soft. ‘I am surprised that your husband did not come himself to deliver so important an instruction.’

Lady Fitzherbert tittered. ‘Oh, Sir Bertram would never think to
instruct
the rector. Certainly not. Just…just a word to the wise.’

Jon had heard quite enough. ‘I am sure the rector will be properly grateful, ma’am. But as it happens, Sir Bertram’s warning is a little late. The gypsy band has leave to camp on my land at Fratcombe Manor.’

Lady Fitzherbert gasped and turned bright red. Then she swallowed hard. ‘Since the rector is not here, I shall not trouble you further, ma’am. Lord Portbury.’ She dipped another elegant curtsy to Jon, inclined her head a fraction to Mrs Aubrey and hurried out, without waiting for a servant to be summoned.

‘Well, I declare!’ Mrs Aubrey let out a long breath. Then she frowned up at Jon. ‘Since when has Fratcombe Manor offered hospitality to gypsies?’

‘It has never yet done so. I—’

‘My lord, I pray you will not allow Sir Bertram Fitzherbert to run them out of Fratcombe. He will not care what damage is done to their caravans and their horses. And there are so many helpless children—’

Jon stopped Miss Aubrey with a raised hand. His foundling was bringing him yet another problem. Now, she was prepared to plead for people who were truly outcasts from society. ‘I have said they may use my land. For a week or two, at least. I will not go back on that.’

Nor would he, unless they broke his trust. He would instruct his workers to keep a sharp eye out for thieving or damage. At the first sign of either, the gypsies would be turned off. He was cynical enough to expect it within days.

‘Thank you, my lord. I will impress on them that there must be no mischief.’

‘
You?
You have dealings with the gypsies?’

She coloured a little but raised her chin defiantly. ‘I am the Fratcombe schoolmistress. I teach all the children in the district. Whoever they are.’

‘Master Jonathan, Beth goes to the gypsy camp when she can and gives lessons to the children. Just simple lettering and stories from the Bible. Even gypsies are God’s creatures.’

‘Yes,’ Jon admitted grudgingly. The rector had often preached about the Good Samaritan. Now was Jon’s chance to show that he had listened. ‘Yes, you are right, ma’am. As long as they respect the law, they will not suffer at my hands. I do not persecute waifs and strays.’

Mrs Aubrey smiled at Jon and then very warmly
across at Beth. ‘No, you do not. Indeed, you rescue them. You brought us the daughter we never had.’

It was worse than he had imagined. If Beth Aubrey was a fraud, he could not expose her without hurting Mrs Aubrey. He knew he could never do that. The old lady had been like a mother to Jon when he and his brother had been at Fratcombe as boys. She had comforted Jon when his brother died. Her support had helped him to face the grief-stricken father who thought Jon a worthless replacement for his dead heir. How much had she understood of a young boy’s desperate striving to win his father’s esteem? It had never been spoken of. But she and the rector understood human failings. They would have seen how hard Jon tried, and how little he succeeded.

According to Jon’s father, an earl’s heir had to be brought up to understand his duty from the cradle, or he would never be more than a poor second best. Not that it stopped the old man from trying to thrash Jon into the mould he sought—duty, and distance, and distrust of everyone. He had almost succeeded, but he could never undermine Jon’s trust in the Aubreys. They were truly good people, probably the only ones Jon knew. And if they loved Beth…

He turned back to the sofa. ‘Has Lady Fitzherbert ever acknowledged you, ma’am?’ he asked sharply.

She coloured and looked down at her clasped hands, shaking her head.

So that insufferable woman really was trying to usurp Jon’s place in society. A set-down over the gypsies was not enough. There must be public retribution. It would be fitting to make Beth Aubrey his instrument.

‘I have a mind to hold a splendid party at the Manor, to which I shall invite all the gentry families. If you, Mrs Aubrey, would do me the honour of acting as my hostess, with your adopted daughter by your side, we shall teach all our stiff-rumped neighbours to treat Miss Aubrey with proper respect.’

‘Oh, but you cannot,’ Beth breathed.

‘I can. And I will, if Mrs Aubrey agrees. Do you approve, ma’am?’

Mrs Aubrey twinkled at him. ‘I do, Master Jonathan. It will succeed, I am sure, for there is not one great house that would turn down an invitation from the Earl of Portbury. Even if the price is to acknowledge Miss Elizabeth Aubrey.’

He took the old lady’s hand and raised it to his lips. ‘We have a bargain, then.’

The conspiracy was sealed between her benefactress and her rescuer. Beth had had no say at all. It seemed she was still to be treated like a parcel. ‘I may develop a most inconvenient headache on the day of this party, my lord,’ she said tightly.

‘I pray you will do no such thing, ma’am.’ He rose to fetch a hard chair from the wall by the door, and set it down by the head of the sofa where Beth lay. Sitting down, he took her left hand in both of his. His clasp was gentle and reassuring. She felt calluses on his palm from riding and fencing. This was no sprig of fashion but a man of action. ‘Perhaps you could think of it, not as revenge on petty coxcombs, but as a favour for Mr and Mrs Aubrey? They have sheltered you, and accepted you as if you were a member of their own family. It is an insult to
them
that some of the local gentry have cut
you. By agreeing to this, by attending my party and showing your strength of character, you will be repaying something of what you owe the Aubreys. Can you not see that?’

Beth could now see precious little. Her vision was blurry, as if she were trying to see through a howling gale. The touch of his skin on hers was flooding her whole body with heat, making her heart swell and race. She was terrified by his proposal, yet at the same time she felt light-headed, as if she might float away. When she tried to speak, no words came out.

‘Miss Beth? Will you not agree? For Mrs Aubrey’s sake?’

She had no choice. ‘I will do what you ask,’ she said, in a rather strangled whisper.

‘Thank you, Beth.’ He raised her hand and kissed it, just as he had kissed Mrs Aubrey’s.

But Mrs Aubrey could not have felt the surge of heat that travelled through Beth’s fingers and up her arm. It was not quite pleasure, and not quite pain, but she almost cried out in shock. She sat quite motionless, trying to recover her wits. He had kissed her hand! And he had called her by her given name! She must be back in one of her unfathomable dreams.