The Makeshift Marriage (33 page)

“So Miss Townsend was wrong.”

“I don’t know, my lady, but I believe that the duke’s presence swung the balance.”

She nodded. “And so we indirectly have the Earl of Langford to thank.”

“My lady?”

“The duke came, I fancy, to annoy the earl. So, Mr. Dodswell, everything has gone?”

“Lock, stock, and barrel. The duke even wishes to employ those at present responsible for the hounds
—there will not be anyone from the kennels without a position at Bagshot. It has all worked out very well.”

“Except for those other servants here who have lost their positions and do not have a Duke of Gloucester to rescue them.”

“Aye, my lady, I fear you are right.”

“Ten people, Mr. Dodswell, that is all. Surely King’s Cliff will be able to absorb them?”

“That is a matter for Sir Nicholas.”

“I will ask him, of that you may be sure. I have given my word.”

A great many people still remained at King’s Cliff at the end of the afternoon when at last the hounds were brought from their kennels for the last time. A silence fell over everyone as they emerged, under the strict control of the chief huntsman. Tails wagging, claws scrabbling, and tongues lolling, they milled around as they waited to be taken into the three large covered wagons the auctioneers had provided for their transportation to whoever their new owner might be.

At last they were all accounted for, and the lumbering wagons began to leave. Everyone watched, affected by the finality of the moment. Now King’s Cliff was indeed less in stature…
.

Laura stood with Mr. Dodswell by the entrance of the now silent kennels, and then they began to walk back toward the portico.

She was conscious of all eyes upon her, but no one said anything until she was at the foot of the steps, then a single word rang out.

“Shame!”

She halted, turning in the direction of the voice. She saw immediately to whom it belonged, for a tall dandy swaggered forward, very splendid and exaggerated in gray satin. He sketched a mocking bow, and drew a ripple of delighted laughter from the crowd. Laura had noticed him earlier, eating his fill of cold chicken and taking glass after glass of champagne. Even now he had a glass in his hand.

She turned to Mr. Dodswell. “I will not be a moment.”

“My lady
—”

But she had gone, her face very cold as she approached the dandy. An expectant silence descended.

“I trust, sirrah,” she said in a voice as clear as his own had been, “that you enjoyed the vast quantities of food and drink you partook today. I trust also that you will agree that you behave lamentably when you express a view so obviously at odds with those expressed by your host. You have enjoyed Sir Nicholas Grenville’s hospitality, sirrah, and now you abuse it. That is not the behavior of a gentleman; it is the behavior of an oaf. And so I say to you
—
shame!”

He was silenced. She looked coldly at him once more, and then her glance swept over the crowd. Few met her eyes. She turned to walk back toward the house, and no further word was hurled after her as she went inside on Mr. Dodswell’s arm.

The crowd had gone when Augustine went to see Nicholas. She paused outside the door, rubbing her eyes for a moment until they watered, and then she went in. Her eyes seemed to shimmer with tears as she closed the door, leaning back on it as she looked at him. “Oh, Nicholas
—” Her voice broke, and she ran to him, slipping her arms around his neck and hiding her face against his shoulder.

“What is it, Augustine?”

“F-forgive me. I know I should not come weeping to you, you least of all, but suddenly it is all so final. The hounds have gone, and all that land has been sold. I am faced at last with the fact that King’s Cliff will never be the same again.” Her voice was tremulous, hesitant, and designed to extract the maximum sympathy from him.

“No, King’s Cliff will never be the same. It will be better.”

She said nothing to that, turning away and searching for her handkerchief. She wasn’t sure of him, and she had come now to reassure herself that she still had a hold over him. “I-I have been thinking that maybe I should go away from King’s Cliff for a while, maybe go to Taunton and inspect the shops.” She smiled bravely through her tears. “Is that not what is expected of ladies of quality, that they forget their sorrows by immersing themselves in the delights of feminine fripperies?”

He smiled. “No doubt it is.”

“You will not mind if I go?”

“What right have I to mind where you go?”

She stared at him, for that was not the answer she sought. “None, I suppose,” she replied.

“By all means go to Taunton, Augustine. I trust that the visit will have an appropriate effect.”

“Effect?”

“I hope that it will make you feel better.”

“Oh.” To hide the uncertainty she felt, she went to him again. “Hold me, Nicholas, hold me close.”

“That is not easy with but one good arm,” he said, but he nonetheless slipped his arm around her waist. She tried to read his eyes as he kissed her, but they revealed nothing. She left him a little later, still uncertain. She did not wish to go to Taunton with James Grenville, but she was afraid not to. She also did not wish to go because she feared to leave Laura alone with Nicholas. Augustine knew in her heart that Laura was more of a rival for his love than Laura herself could possibly realize.

In spite of the fact that his excellent green coat with its high collar was tossed casually over his shoulders, Nicholas still looked elegant, achieving that lazy gracefulness that is the aim of every gentleman of fashion. His arm was supported by a light sling and his full shirt looked very white indeed against his indigo waistcoat. A jeweled pin shone in the folds of his cravat, and the tassels of his Hessian boots swung as he crossed the library to where Laura sat waiting with Mr. Dodswell. Briefly he took her hand and brought it to his lips, but it was merely a gesture of politeness, no more than that.

The agent lit his meerschaum pipe and the aroma of his tobacco mingled with the smell of coffee. Sunlight streamed into the room, dusty sunbeams dancing by the tall shelves of books, and there was a rustle of paper as Mr. Dodswell opened up the final account books of the auction. Laura sat back. It was good to be merely party to this meeting and not to have any responsibility, for Nicholas could take that for himself now. He had gained in strength and health, improving visibly over the past week. There was color in his cheeks once more and his lips were no longer so deathly pale. His eyes were brighter too, having lost the awful dullness that had glazed them for so very long now.

It was also good, as far as Laura was concerned, to be free of Augustine Townsend and her mother once again, for they had gone to Taunton
—to meet the earl, as Laura knew full well. She glanced at Nicholas as he consulted with the agent. The Duke of Gloucester’s remark about Augustine’s name being connected with the Earl of Langford’s had not had any apparent effect. Nicholas had not seemed surprised at the time, and he had made no mention of it to Augustine—at least, not when Laura had been present. Augustine had, of course, made a great thing of saying farewell to him, draping herself clingingly on his good arm and addressing him with a familiarity he did nothing to check. And yet Laura felt he was reticent, neither encouraging nor discouraging. Only one thing could explain his conduct: that since he loved her so very much, he was prepared to forgive and forget.

Charles Dodswell inspected his pipe, which was proving difficult to keep lit, and closed the final ledger. “There you have it then, Sir Nicholas. The books balance most excellently, pleasing both the agent and the lawyer in me. The various diminutions resulting from the auction and other necessary sacrifices have had the beneficial effect you sought. With the marsh drained, King’s Cliff will eventually be solvent again, and I foresee a goodly profit.”

Nicholas smiled knowingly at him. “Provided I am intelligent enough to employ high farming methods.”

“Naturally.”

“I believe that when you die the words ‘high farming’ will be found written across your heart.”

“I pray they are, for it is my most fervent belief that the future of estates such as this will depend upon such new ways.”

“I agree with you. Have you heard from Mr. McDonald?”

“Only that he has received our communication and will come as soon as possible.” Mr. Dodswell lit his recalcitrant pipe again, drawing heavily on to it so that a cloud of smoke surrounded him for a moment. “At least local opinion will change when people realize that the marsh project will provide work for about five hundred men. All work is good work in these depressed times.”

“The Tibdales and their kind will not see it that way.”

“I for one will be delighted to see them forced to seek other means of supporting themselves than stealing that which does not belong to them.”

“Charles, whatever situation they find themselves in, they will survive by
illegal
means, if not poaching from King’s Cliff, then poaching from someone else. Now, is there anything else we need to discuss now?”

Laura sat quickly forward. “Yes, there is.”

He glanced at her. “Yes?”

“It concerns those servants who still have not found positions elsewhere. There are only ten of them, Nicholas, and in view of everything having gone so well, I was wondering
—hoping…. Could they not be taken on here again?”

He gave a slight nod. “I see no reason why not. Ten will not put me back in penury.”

“Eight,” said Mr. Dodswell. “There are only eight, as I happen to know that two took the wagon to Taunton last week and have found employment there.”

Nicholas gave a short laugh. “It seems the whole world converges on Taunton town!”

Laura was conscious of the irony of his statement. “Yes,” she agreed quietly, “even Baron Frederick von Marienfeld.”

Nicholas’s eyes went swiftly to her face. “I beg your pardon?”

“The baron.
He
once converged on Taunton too.”

“When?”

She was surprised by the interest her statement had obviously aroused. “I don’t know exactly; he merely told me that he had but recently visited Taunton. Why?”

“Idle curiosity,” he replied, but his eyes were lowered thoughtfully to the quill in his hand.

She was puzzled and so was Charles Dodswell, who watched him carefully for a moment before clearing his throat. “We take the eight remaining servants on again then?”

“Yes. See to it, will you, Charles?”

Laura sat forward again. “There is one I would like to inform myself, if that is in order. Frank Roberts.”

“Because he is your maid’s father?”

“Partly.”

And partly because the road to his cottage passes the gates of Daniel Tregarron’s house
…
.
The accusation passed through Nicholas’s head, but he merely nodded to her. “Very well, tell him if you wish.”

“I will go directly,” she said, getting up.

The two men stood politely, but Nicholas made no move to open the door for her, leaving that task to Charles Dodswell. It was a deliberate and obvious omission and she could not help but notice it, although she gave no sign that she had.

Charles Dodswell could not fail to notice it either, and when she had gone he turned to Nicholas. “It grieves me that you are so unhappy in your private life, Sir Nicholas.”

“And what makes you think I am unhappy?”

“It appears quite obvious to me.”

“All is not what it seems, Charles,” said Nicholas, going to pour himself a cognac; “Will you join me?”

“Thank you. Maybe all is not what it seems, but I would like to tell you how it seems to me.”

“You intend doing that even if I forbid you,” replied Nicholas drily, smiling as he pushed a glass into the other’s hand.

“It is a liberty I allow myself as your friend and mentor. I make no apology now for speaking frankly to you. I do not think you have even
begun
to realize yet how very hard your wife has labored on your behalf these past weeks. She faced great opposition from the outset and extreme unhelpfulness from many quarters
—most particularly from those now absent in Taunton—as well as the earl, your cousin, to whom she stood up very sturdily. She took responsibilities few women would consider, and she shouldered them as gallantly as any man. She sat up night after night reading ledgers, going through ancient accounts, deeds, and agreements until I swear she must know as much, if not more, than I do about this estate. She rode out herself with myself and Mr. McDonald on his first survey, and she did not sit idly by but asked pertinent questions which much impressed Mr. McDonald, for he told me as much.

“Furthermore she informed the servants herself that their numbers must be cut, and although this would normally be the duty of the lady of the house, I tell you of it because she found it particularly grueling, as she knew only too well how much losing their positions would mean to them. On their behalf she has done all she can to help, writing thankless letters to the gentry of the neighborhood, asking them to offer employment to those unfortunate enough to find their names on my cursed list. She did all this, Sir Nicholas, and you knew nothing because your precarious health caused your doctors to advise her against telling you anything which might cause you stress and which would then maybe impede your recovery. She is a very fine woman
—beautiful, charming, and determined to at least
try
to do what she knows to be necessary. So, I am brought back to my opinion of what
seems.
She is admirably suited in every way to be your wife, she shares your humor and your thoughts, and she is more than a little desirable—which even a confirmed bachelor such as myself can acknowledge. In short, Sir Nicholas, you married her because you loved her, and any other reason you have given is only secondary to that. Now then, can you tell me that I am wrong?”