Winterwood (21 page)

The servants, who were whispering about this great news as well as about the condition of the mistress, were loyal enough. Even Mary, for once, held her tongue. It was someone else who was less loyal.

It was a sunny afternoon and Lavinia had left Flora sitting in the blue garden while she returned to the house to get sketching materials. When she came back, Jonathon Peate was prowling about the grassy walks, and talking to Flora in his loud, carrying voice.

“So you’re a rich little girl now. How are you enjoying that?”!

Flora answered angrily. “What are you doing in my garden? You were not invited. Do you go everywhere uninvited?”

“By no means. I find most people more civil than the rich and beautiful Miss Meryon. Ah, here is Miss Hurst. Miss Hurst, your young lady’s manners are still sadly lacking.”

“Miss Hurst, tell him this garden’s a private place. He has no right to be here.”

“That is true, Mr. Peate,” Lavinia said.

Jonathon gave his infuriating laugh.

“For such a rich young woman, Miss Meryon is very ungenerous.”

“Why don’t you go away from Winterwood?” Flora demanded. “Great-aunt Tameson is dead. There’s nothing for you to stay for.”

“But I might enjoy staying. There might be people I enjoy looking at.” Jonathon wagged his finger. “You mustn’t pretend to know all my motives, princess.”

Lavinia looked at Flora’s white and furious face.

“You had better leave us, Mr. Peate. Otherwise we will have to go indoors.”

The merest flicker of something that wasn’t perpetual good humor crossed his face. But at once he was smiling, and saying, “Your wishes are mine, Miss Hurst. After all, we must remember to take the greatest care of little Miss Meryon. Even though she is so sadly a cripple and seems to have inherited her mother’s mad—sorry, her mother’s emotional instability, she is a very valuable personage. Perhaps one day I may succeed in persuading her to like me a little. Anyway, she may depend on it, we will be seeing a great deal of one another in the future. I am to be a guest at Christmas. Isn’t that extremely kind of my cousin Charlotte?”

He bowed and swaggered away, his head in the air.

Flora turned on Lavinia in panic.

“Miss Hurst, how could Mamma have asked him to stay? It can’t be true! And what does he mean by my being mad like Mamma. Mamma isn’t mad.
Is
she, Miss Hurst?”

Lavinia didn’t know how to keep the fury out of her voice.

“That Mr. Peate! You mustn’t believe a word he says. He is some kind of monster. He calls you a cripple and your mother mad. I would like to kill him!”

Flora began to giggle unsteadily. “If you look like that, Miss Hurst, I believe you could!”

“Your mamma isn’t mad; she simply has a very high-strung nervous system. And so have you. You must always try to keep calm.”

Flora was growing calmer now.

“So I would, if people were not so exasperating. Mr. Peate, Edward, Great-aunt Tameson. But she is dead. What did Mr. Peate mean about me being rich? Is that another of his horrid jokes?”

The quiet charm of the late autumn afternoon had vanished. Jonathon Peate had a way of turning any peace into discord. He was a menace—and now Lavinia saw that his menace extended to more than her. His pointed remarks about Flora’s wealth had some disturbing significance. Surely it couldn’t be true that he would be at Winterwood for Christmas. Why did Daniel tolerate it?

Lavinia remembered the conversation Eliza had related between Charlotte and Lady Tameson. “You’ll have to send him away,” Charlotte had said, and Lady Tameson had answered, “Try.”

Lady Tameson was no longer here to explain what it was she knew about her peculiarly stubborn and thick-skinned nephew.

“I expect it’s all a mistake,” was all Lavinia could say to Flora. “I am sure your mamma hasn’t really invited Mr. Peate for Christmas. And as for your being rich, your Papa had decided not to tell you just yet, but Lady Tameson left you some money in her will. You are to get it when you are of age. So you see, you have no need to worry about the future. You can have your own establishment as you planned.”

“And horses?”

“As many as you want, I expect.”

The sudden eager light in Flora’s eyes died almost at once.

“But what will be the use if I can’t ride? Mr. Peate said I was a cripple.”

“Mr. Peate has a way of underestimating people. He doesn’t know your determination. You must show him that he is wrong.”

She appeared to have hit upon the exactly right thing to say, for Flora’s eyes narrowed to fierce slits.

“I will, Miss Hurst! I will!”

Lavinia was certain that Charlotte was afraid of Jonathon; yet it turned out to be true that she had invited him to stay over Christmas. Sir Timothy was astonished.

“I don’t know what Charlotte sees in the fellow. He’s only some sort of a cousin. She owes no courtesy to him. He’s not incapacitated, or penniless, either, by the look of him. I think he’s a complete blackguard. Why does Daniel allow Charlotte to have him about?”

The servants all knew the reason Daniel allowed it. It was rather alarming how much the servants did know. Rumors became exaggerated, of course, but Eliza said it was perfectly true that Mr. Peate had visited the mistress. He had just walked in, Bertha had said. The mistress had cried out in shock to see him standing there. But then she had sent Bertha out of the room.

It was quite half an hour before she had rung her bell and asked Bertha to show Mr. Peate out, and he had bent over her and kissed her hand, and said that he adored her. “My exquisite Charlotte,” had been his exact words, and supposing the master had heard them!

“So he got round her,” Lavinia said.

“Oh, more than that, miss. She was all of a twitter. Said wouldn’t it be gay to have Mr. Peate as a Christmas guest. The house needed some gaiety after all this melancholy. Mr. Peate was always so cheerful, never low in spirits. Anyway, she wasn’t one of those gloomy people who thought mourning should go on and on. It was so bad for the children. Then she asked for the master to come and see her, and if you realize, miss, it’s the first time she’s wanted him since she was took so poorly.”

Lavinia wanted to reproach Eliza for gossiping, but couldn’t. She was hanging on her words.

“And what happened?”

“Well, miss, it was a bit of an upset. He hadn’t been with her more than five minutes before she began crying and laughing both at once, the way she does when she has those turns. Bertha could hear her from away down the passage. Then the master came out, calling for Bertha to know where the soothing draught was that the doctor had left. He kept saying, ‘Very well, you may have your way this time, but not again. Don’t do it again.’ You see, he had to give way, or she’d have been worse.”

“She finds her attacks convenient,” Lavinia said cynically.

Eliza looked shocked and serious. “Oh, no, miss. Bertha could tell you some tales. Oh no, miss, her attacks are real, and to be avoided at all costs. The master knows, poor man. Haven’t you seen him looking as if he carries all the cares of the world on his shoulders? That’s when he’s worried about her. And it’s often enough. Too often.”

“It’s hard to see someone you love suffering.”

“That it is, miss. And her so beautiful. You haven’t really seen her dressed for a party and all laughing and excited, have you, miss?”

“No,” said Lavinia shortly.

“Well, you will, miss, and then you’ll see why the master can’t resist her.”

Flora had left her book and her cashmere shawl in the blue garden. In their agitation after Jonathon Peate’s intrusion they had come away without gathering up their things.

Lavinia went down to get them and Jonathon followed her. It was quite obvious that he must have been lurking about waiting for an opportunity to find her alone, just as he had that day when they had encountered one another in the Temple of Virtue.

It was dusk, and she didn’t realize he was there until she heard a twig snap behind her. She turned sharply, and found herself in his arms.

She struggled fiercely, pushing away his hateful smiling face with her clenched fists.

“Ah, come now, Miss Hurstmonceaux. A little kiss won’t kill you. Or would you kill me?”

“Yes, I would!” she said. “Let me go at once, you monster!”

He released her so suddenly that she almost fell. He was still laughing, but his eyes had that gray, chilling look.

“They say it’s easy to kill,” he drawled.

Lavinia had picked up Flora’s belongings and made to go. He firmly blocked her path.

“By Jove, you’re lovely with that color in your cheeks. My cousin Charlotte’s celebrated beauty simply fades in comparison.”

“Mr. Peate, will you kindly let me pass.”

“I’ll forgive you for your little tantrum. I expect you’re finding the responsibility of looking after an heiress rather trying.”

“Mr. Peate—”

He caught her wrist.

“I will let you go when you have promised to marry me.”

Lavinia stopped struggling. She stared in complete amazement.

“You’d dare!”

“Why shouldn’t I? Are you so unapproachable? So pure? Do I have to refresh your memory, Miss Hurstmonceaux?”

“Will you kindly stop calling me by another name.”

“But it’s your real name, isn’t it? How do I know? Shall I tell you? Have you forgotten the house in Albemarle Street? I know you didn’t stay in it long. Just for the season, I believe. Then your brother wanted—or found it necessary—to move on. But during that time there were quite a lot of callers. You must have known about the gambling sessions that went on while you were getting your beauty sleep. I only saw you once then. You were coming downstairs to go shopping. I can tell you exactly what you were wearing. A green velvet cloak and a charming hat with a little green ostrich feather curling round its brim. I had been sleeping off the effects of your brother’s excellent port in his study—to the left of the stairs, do you remember? Oh, you didn’t see me. But I saw you.”

His face came closer.

“And I saw you again exactly a year later in the witness box. You were more quietly dressed. You were paler and thinner. But just as beautiful.”

“You came to stare!” Lavinia whispered.

“To admire. You were so loyal to your brother. I didn’t expect to see you again after that. I thought you would disappear quietly to live your life in obscurity, and what a catastrophe that would have been. But fate took a hand. You must admit the ways of fate are very strange.”

“Deplorably strange,” Lavinia said curtly.

“And destined. We were meant to meet again and fall in love.”

“Mr. Peate, your fancies are even stranger than fate.”

He laughed softly. “Dear Lavinia! You never disappoint me. Your wit, your spirit. What a pair we will make!”

“You can’t be assuming—” She stopped, unable to say the incredible words, and he finished them for her.

“But don’t you see, you will be compelled to marry me if your secret is to be kept. Naturally I would never betray my wife.”

“Mr. Peate, you must be mad! You are mad!”

He shook his head smilingly. “Far from it. Exceptionally sane. And very clever at getting my own way. Marry me, Lavinia, and we’ll go on in the world. We’ll sail for New York. No one there knows, or cares about, anybody’s past. We’ll set up a fine establishment. Come now, you must admit that will be better than this half-life you’re living. Who else in England is going to offer you marriage? Tell me!”

“There are worse things than being unmarried.” Lavinia’s eyes raked him with scorn. “Aren’t you aware of that?”

She believed she had pricked his assurance a little, for his tone changed. He said softly, “You make a big mistake. What is that dear sweet crippled child, the little bitch, to say when she knows about her adored Miss Hurst’s past? Her brother tried for murder; the whole affair very unsavory. What is my high-minded cousin-in-law, Daniel, to think about the admirable young woman he’s been defending so strenuously, and secretly wanting to go to bed with?”

Lavinia thought she would like to attack him with her bare hands. She had only felt like this once before—the tallow-yellow face swam before her, its open eyes staring… The garden seemed to have become dark. She could scarcely see the last withering flowers, the fallen leaves.

Jonathon Peate had spoiled this charming garden. He had laid his filthy finger on it, and it had been smirched.

“Don’t swoon, Miss Hurst. I wouldn’t have thought you were the swooning kind.”

“Just—let me go.”

“I’m not keeping you. You may go when you please. But think about what I have said. I won’t hurry you. I’ll be quite fair and give you until Christmas to decide. Since it suits me to stay here until then. But I’ll expect an answer by the new year. So think carefully, my dear. And remember that I don’t make idle threats.”

“Miss Hurst, you look awfully sad,” Flora said.

“I’m not sad. I was just thinking.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“A hat I had once, with a green ostrich feather. It was very pretty.”

“Then don’t look so sad. I’ll buy you another just like it. I can, now I have all this money. I mean to buy gifts for everybody, even Edward. Papa says we are to go to London to shop for Christmas, and Mr. Mallinson, my Trustee, will allow me some money to spend.”

Flora’s cheeks were pink, her eyes bright. It had been wise for her to know about her fortune after all. She looked so recovered in spirits that Lavinia had to brush aside her own intense depression.

“That is very kind of you. But you have already given me the silk for a new gown.”

“And you have never worn it yet! But you can wear it in London. Papa will like to see you in it. And we are to go and see more doctors, but I won’t be afraid this time if you are with me.”

On the pretext of asking about the visit to London, Lavinia sought out Daniel in his study that evening.

“May I have a word with you, Mr. Meryon?”

“Certainly, as long as it is no more nonsense about leaving Winterwood.”

“No. I will stay until you ask me to go,” Lavinia replied. And that may be sooner than he expected it to be, she reflected soberly.