The Waltzing Widow/Smith (14 page)

At Rose Cottage Lucy knew the matter was not at an end. There had to be some reason why Avedon had insulted her. Someone had given him false information about her, led him to believe she was open to a proposition of that sort. Her reaction had shown him he was mistaken. He would come to apologize. As she wished to keep the whole mess under wraps, at least until after the bishop’s visit, she hadn’t told her chaperon what transpired at Seaview. A careful consideration had led to the decision that she could spare Mrs. Percy at least that. Over breakfast she announced that it was time to let Avedon know the truth about them.

“I am relieved the acting is over,” her aunt said. “They seem like good, decent people. It is a pity to deceive them, and for no real reason.”

Lucy swallowed that description and said, “I never meant any harm. It was only to protect myself that I pretended to be married.”

“When you decided you didn’t want the protection of a husband, you shouldn’t have made yourself into a widow.”

“We had already written the letter. It was difficult to change.”

Mrs. Percy did not think that any real harm had been done. She considered the matter to be a joke in questionable taste. “It will be interesting to see how things go on now. I doubt they’ll be so busy pulling Bigelow away from you, when they hear who you really are.”

“Oh, Tony—I don’t think of him.”

“Mr. Carlton has been taking over lately. He is pleasant, but he’s too old for you, Lucy.”

“He is only a friend, a companion to drive about with.”

“Why is it Lord Avedon you have chosen to tell the truth to? That surprises me more than the rest, as you never cared for him.” A pair of sharp eyes examined Lucy.

She looked away to hide her feelings. “He is Tony’s guardian, the head of the house.... He is the proper person to tell, don’t you think? If he calls, that is.”

“I see. That’s the only reason, is it?” Mrs. Percy asked with an arch look.

“Of course,” Lucy replied loftily, and spoiled the effect by adding, “and don’t think I like him, for I don’t.”

“How should you care for such a toplofty gentleman?” Her aunt smiled softly and rose. “He is neither too old nor too young in any case. This should be an interesting meeting.”

“I am not at all sure he will call. He didn’t say so.”

Mrs. Percy left the room reluctantly and went on about her business. The bishop’s bedroom had to be aired and cleaned. If he stayed more than a few days, she really should invite a few friends and neighbors in to meet him as well. But before any of this, she wished to tackle the mildew that was attacking the phlox.

Lucy was still at the table when the knock came at the front door. She recognized Avedon’s voice, and heard with considerable curiosity that he asked to see not her, but her aunt. Now what was the plague of a man up to? She hastened into the hallway, wearing an angry scowl. “Miss Percy is busy. If you have something to say, you may say it to me, sir.”

His bold eyes raked her from head to toe. “Very well. It concerns you in any case.”

She led him into the parlor and closed the door. Her expression was not far from gloating when she considered what she had to tell him. Then he would see what a flaming jackass he had made of himself!

“I trust you found your team in good order when you returned, Lord Avedon,” she said boldly. “Sorry I couldn’t wait to say good-bye, but there was just something about the atmosphere at Seaview that made me nauseous. The sea breezes, no doubt,” she added ironically.

That she could make light of it was the last straw. An ill-concealed sneer took possession of his face. “Too much good clean air to suit one of your ilk, I expect.”

“On the contrary, I found the air particularly foul, but then I am not accustomed to it, as you are.”

“Just what rarefied atmosphere
are
you accustomed to, miss? Haymarket, perhaps? Yes, you may well stare. You have been found out.”

Lucy turned a fiery eye on him. “I have nothing to hide. And I would like to know who told you I am a—a—”

“A Haymarket nun is the usual expression,” he supplied. “No one told me. I have the use of my own common sense. There was no Captain Percy at Ciudad Rodrigo. Why claim to be what you are not? You are not a respectable widow but a lightskirt, come to try your well-worn charms on a credulous youngster. But by all means let me hear what you have to say. I am curious to learn who has been making a game of us all. The only thing I know for certain is that you are not a Percy.”

His tone was almost as insulting as his words. Both combined were enough to jolt Lucy into fury. “You are mistaken, sir. I am.”

“We have had a letter at Chenely from a neighbor of Lady Sara’s in Hampshire. The son was with Wellington in the Peninsula. The letter stated that there was no Captain Percy at Ciudad Rodrigo, where your alleged husband is supposed to have met his death. You slipped up there. Captain Percy was engaged at Salamanca, not Ciudad Rodrigo, and he was not killed. You made a few other faux pas as well. You forgot to buy yourself a wedding band, miss.”

Lucy’s hand flew to her lips. How had she overlooked such an obvious thing? She saw Avedon looking at her naked finger, with a hateful grin on his face.

“Yes, really a remarkably stupid blunder on your part. Nearly as bad—no,
worse
than setting a butler at the door of a cottage. Bad ton, miss, but then, how should a woman of your sort know the customs of gentlefolk?”

“I am not accustomed to living in a cottage! At Fernbank we always had a butler,” she charged angrily.

“I doubt you have ever been inside Fernbank, unless perhaps as a servant wench. Is that how you discovered the existence of Captain Percy? Did he used to squeeze you behind the doors?” His eyes ran over her figure in a blatantly assessing and insulting manner.

Lucy felt her blood turn hot at that examination. “No, sir, he kissed me in front of everyone, and I don’t need
you
to tell me where he was stationed. Alex was killed in the battle of Salamanca the twenty-second of July at three in the afternoon, with a bullet through his heart. Would you care to see the letter from the Home Office informing me of the fact? I have kept it by me as a memento. I have also a letter from his colonel commending his courage in battle, and several from his fellow officers.”

She strode to a table and pulled out a wooden box. She removed from it a sheaf of paper done up in blue ribbon and thrust it at Avedon. He didn’t even deign to glance at it.

“You’re lying,” he charged.

“Read the letters,” she commanded, shoving them into his hands. He glanced at the one on top, which was indeed from the Home Office, addressed to Mr. Percy at Fernbank, announcing the death of Captain Percy at Salamanca.

“Where did you get this? What is the meaning of this?” he demanded angrily.

“What does it look like?” she blazed.

Avedon felt bewildered. He had finally convinced himself Lucy was a conscienceless adventuress and could not so swiftly make the adjustment. “But the letter from Hampshire said—”

“What do I care for a letter from Hampshire?” Lucy charged wildly. “Why should you believe the word of people you don’t even know over mine?”

“But you told Sally it was Ciudad Rodrigo.”

“I never said such a thing. Do you think it isn’t etched into my mind where Alex was killed? You have the impudence to come here, implying I don’t know him, whom I have loved since I could walk. You lure me off to that shack and have the effrontery to offer me a carte blanche, as though I were a—oh, it is monstrous!” She turned away, hot tears scalding her eyes at all she had recently endured and the bitter memories the letters called up.

Avedon took a step after her but knew it was wiser to stop. He flipped through the other letters and saw that they were as she had said. He felt not only foolish but heartless, a beast. When he remembered his behavior at Seaview, shame was added to the rest. A sob escaped Lucy, and she put her two hands to her mouth to control it.

“Mrs. Percy, pray forgive me,” Avedon said in a subdued voice. “I am grievously sorry.” He glanced at the letters in his hand, wanting to put them from him. He laid them on the table and sought for a means of retreat. It was obvious that Lucy wished to be alone.

She was beyond words. A racking sob escaped her. He felt all the shame and remorse of a gentleman who has offended a blameless lady. “I am very sorry,” he repeated. “It was a misunderstanding. Most unfortunate—unconscionable behavior on my part.”

Lucy turned and faced him. Her face was wet from her tears, but her expression held more fury than grief. “I am not interested in your apologies or your offers, or your opinions, Lord Avedon. I don’t know why you see fit to insult me and question every word I utter, to actually post letters around the countryside vilifying my name, but when you question my relationship to Alex Percy, you go too far. Neither you nor any of the other gentlemen here are worthy to polish his boots, in spite of your fine titles and airs of self-consequence. To think I would be interested in a backdoor liaison with you, or marriage to that rattle of a Bigelow after knowing a man like Alex, a man who gave up everything for his country, for the likes of you—He left his home and family to face every danger. Oh, it is too much.” She turned away, as if she could not bear to look at him.

“I’m sure he was a fine man,” Avedon said. He felt helpless in the face of her tirade.

“Obliging of you to say so! The pity of it is that his sort are dead, while people like you remain at home to reap the rewards of his death and insult his family.”

Avedon stood mute. The titled heads of families did not enlist to go to war, but it did seem unfair, even to him. “No reward is coming to me as a result of this unfortunate war,” he said after a long silence.

“No, nor to anyone else.” Her shoulders sagged, and she turned away, listless after her anger was spent. The aftermath of her outburst and her sad memories were with her still.

“I am very sorry for all the things I said to you,” Avedon began, hoping to reestablish at least a speaking relationship. “They were totally uncalled for. They were unforgivable. I wish I could turn the clock back and unsay them. I hope, when you have considered the matter in tranquility, that you will be kind enough to try to forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Lucy.”

Lucy glanced over her shoulder and was much struck with his humble posture and the beseeching light in his eyes. She remembered that she had still not told him the whole story. “This is all so foolish,” she said distractedly.

Her remark seemed inappropriate. Avedon looked closely to see if she had recovered from the turmoil of their discussion. “It was indeed foolish of me,” he said, to keep her calm.

“It’s not entirely your fault.”

This seemed more inappropriate yet. “You will want a glass of wine to calm your nerves,” he suggested, and went to fetch it.

Mrs. Percy’s curiosity had gotten the better of her and she went into the cottage to learn what was afoot. She heard Avedon go into the hall and went from the study to meet him. “Now you know the truth of us, what have you to say?” she asked roguishly.

“I am very sorry I had the impertinence to question your bona fides, ma’am. Mrs. Percy is very upset. May I have a glass of wine for her, please?”

“Certainly.” Mrs. Percy’s eyes started from their sockets at what she heard and saw. Mrs. Percy—so Lucy had decided against telling him the truth. She was on tiptoes to hear the story. “I’ll take it to her,” she said.

“That might be best. I’m afraid I upset her, talking about her husband. Will you be good enough to say good-bye for me, and tell her I am very sorry.”

“I’ll tell her,” Mrs. Percy replied.

Avedon walked out the door into the bright sunshine, but he beheld nothing in the brilliant countryside to cheer him. He had never felt so ashamed in his life.

When Mrs. Percy took the wine to Lucy, she saw the tears on her cheeks. “What on earth happened?” she demanded.

“Oh, Auntie, it was awful! They have been writing around asking questions about us. They knew Captain Percy was not killed at Ciudad Rodrigo and thought we had made up the whole thing.”

“That was my fault. I told Lady Sara Ciudad Rodrigo.”

“And I told Tony it was Salamanca. When Avedon said I was no kin to the Percys, there was no standing it. I hardly remember what I said to him, but I was very angry. I showed him the letters Papa received from Spain,” she said, nodding toward the letters that lay scattered on the table. “Of course he had to believe me then. Avedon was so polite through it all...”

“You must tell him the truth, Lucy,” her aunt advised.

“Yes. I was going to do it now, but he left. Why did he go? He said he would get me a glass of wine.”

“I believe you frightened him off. Perhaps he’ll return.”

“Did he say so?” Lucy asked eagerly.

“He was too bewildered to think of it.”

“Do you think he’ll come?”

“Before you can say ‘Jack Robinson.’ He didn’t want to leave but felt ashamed of himself.”

Lucy gave a wan smile. “Now I feel ashamed. I should have told him the whole story when he was here, but he was so toplofty, there was no bearing it. Oh, why do men always have to be so impossible!”

“That’s what I used to say till I met my husband.”

Mrs. Percy gave a conspiratorial smile.

As Avedon rode home, he thought of the mull he had made of the whole affair. Offering a carte blanche to a respectable widow, hurling accusations at her. He had never been guilty of such terrible indiscretions before, and that Mrs. Percy should be his victim added salt to the wound.

It was while he was stabling his mount that he recalled something Lucy had said before. She had mentioned a man she was escaping from. His blood simmered to consider that some scoundrel was trying to marry her, apparently with the connivance of her family in Dorset. He must do something to help with that intolerable situation. It would be a beginning to atone for his own crimes.

When he entered his house, he discovered that Lady Sara had gone to Milhaven, no doubt to inform them of his latest visit and pour more erroneous tales into the ears of the inhabitants. Was there no end to what Mrs. Percy must suffer at their hands? A memory of her tear-stained face and racking sobs rose up to bedevil him.