by Sandra Heath
Chapter 2
Linnet didn’t have an opportunity to do as he asked until just before dinner that evening, because when she and Benedict entered the house they were told that Venetia had decided to rest in her room until then.
Great-Aunt Minton was a very particular person when it came to observing custom and etiquette, and the fact that her home was in remote lakeland, two hundred and fifty miles from London, didn’t deter her from insisting upon dressing properly for dinner.
Linnet chose one of her favorite gowns, an apple-green silk embroidered with tiny sprays of white flowers. It only had little sleeves, and since there was an unexpected chill in the evening air, she carried a white woolen shawl. Her maid, Mary Kelly, had dressed her hair up into a becoming knot, with one long chestnut ringlet tumbling down from the back. The knot was adorned with a golden comb, and she wore pearl earrings and a three-string pearl choker. Her skirts rustled as she went downstairs to the large wainscoted parlor where everyone would gather before proceeding to the dining room.
Venetia was the only one to have arrived before her. She was seated in Great-Aunt Minton’s favorite chintz-covered armchair, and was so engrossed in a book that she didn’t at first hear Linnet enter. Outside, the sun was beginning to sink toward the western horizon, and shafts of rich evening light shone through the windows, past the pots of ferns and white geraniums cluttering the sills.
Linnet paused in the doorway, observing her friend for a moment before drawing her attention. Venetia was very like Benedict, with the same long-lashed hazel eyes and curly dark-brown hair, which she wore fashionably very short. She was tall, with a willowy, almost boyish figure which tonight was shown off to great advantage in a slender mauve taffeta gown. A black lace shawl was tossed idly over the back of the chair, and the evening light picked out the amethysts on her bracelet as she turned a page.
Linnet moved softly across the room, leaning over the back of the chair to suddenly read aloud from the page. “ ‘I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange powers of speech; The moment that his face I see I know the man that must hear me; To him my tale I teach,’ ” she intoned dramatically. “Good heavens, isn’t that a little grim and indigestible just before eating?”
Venetia started, and gave her a cross look. “Linnet Carlisle, it’s beastly of you to creep up like that!”
“I was intrigued to see what was absorbing you so completely. I didn’t realize The Rime of the Ancient Mariner was to your liking.”
“This volume happens to be all the rage in town this year.”
“In the provinces, too. I have a copy.” Linnet moved around to a chair opposite, and sat down. “I’ve never seen you reading poetry of any kind before.”
Venetia eyed her suspiciously. “My dear brother Benedict has been telling tales, hasn’t he?”
Linnet nodded ruefully. “He’s worried, Venetia.”
“It’s none of his business.”
“He’s your brother, and he cares about you. I care about you, too.” Linnet paused. “Is there any truth in what he tells me?” she asked, deciding upon a forthright approach.
“No.” Venetia got up crossly, her taffeta skirts rustling. “I do wish he’d keep his nose out of my affairs. I managed perfectly well while he was in Madras, and yet he seems to think I’m helpless.”
“He’s anxious about your reputation, and he’s concerned that you’ll throw away your chances with Freddy Grainger.”
“Oh, to perdition with Freddy-Wretched-Grainger!” snapped Venetia.
Linnet look at her in surprise. “I thought you were fond of him.”
“I am, but not to the point of wishing to rush into marriage.”
“After over a year, it’s hardly rushing,” commented Linnet dryly. “Besides, I’m told he proposed to you, and that you led him to believe you were going to accept, but that the advent of Mr. Coleridge at the Holland House ball put paid to it.”
“My dear sibling has been clacking, hasn’t he?” Venetia sighed, going to place the book on the mantelpiece. “Well, he’s wrong about Mr. Coleridge, who is most definitely not my lover. Oh, I admit to finding him attractive, for he’s everything romantic, but I’ve yet to clamber into his bed.”
“Venetia!”
“If I’m being too worldly for your sensibilities, I apologize,” replied Venetia sharply.
“I only want to help,” protested Linnet, a little hurt.
Venetia was repentant, and smiled sheepishly. “Forgive me, it isn’t fair to bite your head off when it’s Benedict’s fault.”
“I admit I can feel your teeth marks,” answered Linnet, pretending to rub her neck.
Venetia grinned, sitting down again. “I’m just tired after the journey. Believe me, Linnet, I’m not indulging in a liaison with Mr. Coleridge, or with anyone else for that matter, more’s the pity. I admit that I changed my mind about Freddy that night at the Holland House ball, but it wasn’t because of Mr. Coleridge.” She paused, becoming a little uneasy as she abruptly changed the topic of conversation. “Linnet, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Yes?”
“Has Benedict told you that I’ve moved from Berkeley Square?”
“To Fane Crescent? Yes.”
“I hope it won’t make any difference to our friendship, for I’d hate that. I bought the house because Fane Crescent is the most desirable address in town, and properties there don’t often become available. When Lord Faverholme died so suddenly two months ago and his sister decided to sell…”
“You don’t have to explain, for I do understand.”
“I didn’t want you to think I’d deliberately kept the move from you, it just happened so quickly.” Venetia looked anxiously at her. “You don’t see it as a slight of any kind, do you?”
Linnet smiled. “Of course not.”
Venetia was relieved. “Oh, I’m so glad, for I value your friendship very much indeed.” She hesitated, looking quickly at her. “Actually, I saw Nicholas himself four days ago, at the grand unveiling ceremony.”
“What grand unveiling ceremony?”
“Oh, didn’t you know? He’s put an equestrian statue of his late grandfather in the sunken garden between Fane House and the crescent, I gather it’s something he’s wished to do for some time now.”
“Yes, it is,” replied Linnet, who knew the immense regard Nicholas had always had for the third Lord Fane, who’d brought him up from boyhood after the tragically early death of both his parents in a fire at the Fenton country seat in Kent.
“If the statue is anything to judge by, the third Lord Fane and the fifth are virtually identical in appearance,” went on Venetia.
“My great-aunt assures me that they are peas from the same pod,” agreed Linnet, who’d often wondered if the third Lord Fane had been more than a mere friend to Miss Edith Minton. Indeed, the thought had occurred to her that such was her great-aunt’s admiration and regard for that gentleman, that there seemed a great likelihood that he was the reason she’d never married.
Venetia was changing the subject again. “I saw Benedict just before I came down. He tells me you’re almost certainly returning to London with us this time.”
“Yes, that’s right,” answered Linnet, expecting to see a delighted smile break across the other’s face, but instead, Venetia became very serious.
“Linnet, I don’t think you should. You’re just not ready yet.”
Linnet stared at her, and then laughed in disbelief. “But, you’ve just spent the last year trying to persuade me to go back!”
“I know, but that was before I spoke properly to your great-aunt. She and I had a talk when I first arrived this afternoon, while you and Benedict were in the garden. She told me that in spite of your obvious deep affection for Benedict, you still have upsetting dreams about Nicholas.”
Linnet looked away. “She shouldn’t have told you.”
“No, and Benedict shouldn’t have told you about his suspicions concerning Mr. Coleridge,
but he did, because he’s worried about me,” replied Venetia, reminding her that no one’s private affairs are completely inviolate.
“Well, just because I occasionally dream about Nicholas, it doesn’t mean I’m not ready to go home to Carlisle House. What happened a year ago was truly horrid, and is bound to have left its mark, but Benedict means everything to me now.”
“Does he?”
Linnet looked curiously at her. “Venetia, what is all this? Don’t you want me ever to return?”
Venetia smiled quickly, putting a reassuring hand over hers. “Of course I do, you ninny, it’s just that I don’t want you to be hurt all over again. You’re bound to see Nicholas all the time, for he’s very much in evidence. He…” She broke off, changing her mind about what she’d been on the point of saying.
“Yes?”
“He spends a great deal of his time in the company of that tawdry Bird of Paradise person—in fact, he actually took her to Radleigh Hall a month or so ago. I wouldn’t have told you, but if you’re going to return, it’s important that you know what to expect.”
Linnet lowered her eyes. It was painful to know that Nicholas had so little regard for her that he’d taken the Cyprian to the estate that had once been the country seat of the Carlisle family.
Venetia watched her. “You see? It hurts you to think of it. He still has the power to reach you, Linnet, in spite of what you feel for Benedict, and you aren’t going to find it at all easy if you go back to town. Nicholas Fenton is the devil in disguise, for although he’s outwardly the most handsome and attractive of men, inside he’s all that’s base and callous.”
Linnet nodded. “I know, Venetia, and I’ve accepted that that’s how he is. He really doesn’t matter to me now, and I’m quite set upon going home.”
Venetia was about to say something more, but at that moment they heard steps, and the door opened to admit Benedict and Linnet’s great-aunt.
Benedict was dressed superbly, in a purple velvet coat, white satin waistcoat, and white silk breeches, but although he looked the picture of fashionable masculine elegance, his face was dark and angry. So was Great-Aunt Minton’s, and Linnet knew immediately that they’d been having words, most probably about her contentious decision.
Giving Venetia a disapproving look for daring to occupy the favorite armchair, Great-Aunt Minton sat on a sofa, taking particular care about the arranging of her charcoal satin skirts. She was a small, neat person, her graying hair powdered and curled in the old-fashioned style that was so favored by ladies of her generation. In her youth she’d been considered a beauty, and her wealthy Carlisle connections had made it certain that she’d be able to snap up a suitable husband. But she’d turned down all offers, and had quite abruptly retired from London to take up residence in the seclusion of Ivystone House.
Snapping open her fan, she eyed Linnet. “Mr. Gresham informs me that you’ve elected to return to London.”
Linnet lowered her gaze guiltily.
“I see from your manner that it is true. Would it not have been courteous to have informed me yourself? After all, you have been residing beneath this roof for a year now.”
“I’m sorry, Great-Aunt Minton, I didn’t mean to cause offense.”
“Nevertheless, that is precisely what you have caused, and in quantity. You came here in considerable distress, and in my opinion you have a long way to go before you are completely over that distress.”
“I have to go sometime, and I feel that now is as good a moment as any.” Linnet glanced at Benedict.
Her great-aunt sniffed. “With all due respect to Mr. Gresham, I don’t think his presence is going to protect you from the undoubted pain of confronting Lord Fane again.”
Venetia sat forward. “Your great-aunt is right, Linnet. I do wish you’d stay.”
Benedict was caught completely off guard by his sister’s change of heart. “Venetia! What are you saying?”
“I’m sorry, Benedict, but Miss Minton has made me see things differently now. If we have Linnet’s best interests at heart, then we must persuade her to remain here.”
Great-Aunt Minton was no less surprised than Benedict. She looked quizzically at Venetia. “Well, Lady Hartley, I didn’t imagine that you and I would ever be on the same side in this.”
Venetia met her gaze a little unwillingly. “I’ve given the matter considerable thought, Miss Minton.” She turned to Benedict. “Forgive me, but it really is how I feel now.”
“Well, thank you very much, sister mine!” he replied bitterly. “I thought that you, at least, were my ally in this, but you’ve let me down with a vengeance!”
Linnet rose suddenly to her feet. “Will you all stop talking as if I’m not here? I do have a mind of my own, you know, and I’ve decided to go back to Carlisle House.”
Great-Aunt Minton’s lips twitched. “And how, pray, do you intend to go on once you’re there?”
“Go on? I don’t understand.”
“May I remind you that your late uncle was your guardian, and that therefore you were under his protection? If you go back now, you will no longer have that protection. At the very least, you need a chaperone.”
Benedict turned quickly to Venetia. “You’ll gladly undertake the role, will you not?” he pressed, fearful that the old lady was about to propose herself.
Venetia was flustered by being placed on such a spot. “Why, I… Yes, of course. Linnet, you’re more than welcome to live with me, in Fane Crescent,” she added awkwardly.
Great-Aunt Minton snorted. “And how, pray, would that protect my great-niece’s reputation? I can hardly consent to her residing beneath the same roof as Mr. Gresham!” She gave Benedict a baleful look. “You are still residing with Lady Hartley, are you not?”
“Yes. My financial affairs aren’t yet in order.”
“So it seems. Mr. Gresham, if I may say so, your bankers and lawyers appear to be taking an unconscionable length of time sorting matters out. Are they incompetent, or are your finances in the greatest tangle imaginable?”
“I’m in their hands,” he replied shortly, dull color touching his cheeks.
She raised an eyebrow archly, and then returned her attention to Linnet. “My dear, not only can Lady Hartley not be considered as your chaperone because of Mr. Gresham’s presence, but also because her address is quite out of the question. It must be clear to you that there would be very unwelcome talk if you were to live in such close proximity to Fane House. There is only one sensible solution, and that is that I return to London as well, thus offering you my protection.”
Benedict was appalled. It was too awful a prospect to contemplate, and he looked pleadingly at his half-sister, but Venetia could only shrug, for there was nothing she could do.
Linnet appreciated her great-aunt’s offer, and gladly accepted. “But are you sure you wish to return to the hurly-burly of London life after all this time?” she added.
“It isn’t a case of what I want, my dear, but a case of where my duty lies. You are my dear sister’s grandchild, and I am your only remaining relative, and it is therefore incumbent upon me to watch over you, as I have been doing for the past year.”
Linnet went to her, bending to hug her warmly. “I do love you so,” she whispered.
“You don’t deserve me, that’s for sure, you little minx,” replied the old lady fondly, patting her arm.
Benedict groaned inwardly. He didn’t deserve the old biddy either! She’d always been as obstructive as possible where his suit with Linnet was concerned, and she’d made it embarrassingly clear that she didn’t give much credence to what he said regarding his financial problems. She’d continue to stand in his way in London, constantly gnawing away at Linnet’s resistance. Oh, plague take the woman!
Great-Aunt Minton rose to her feet. “I think it is time to adjourn to the dining room. I trust you will enjoy the meal, for the main course is Grasmere trout.” She swept out in a rustle of charcoal satin.
Benedict gave her retreati
ng figure a dire look. Trout? He abhorred trout, and the old harridan knew it!
Chapter 3
It was pouring with rain one week later when two carriages set off from lvystone House en route for London. The first, Venetia’s handsome maroon traveling carriage, contained Venetia herself, Linnet, Benedict, and Great-Aunt Minton. The second vehicle, Linnet’s private carriage, conveyed the servants, three maids, and Benedict’s valet. Word had been sent ahead to the staff at Carlisle House, warning them to expect their mistress’s return from her long absence, and all that remained now was to accomplish the long journey without mishap.
There was little conversation in the first carriage, for the atmosphere was strained. Linnet endeavored to appear carefree, but the truth was that she was filled with trepidation now that the moment was upon her. Was she really ready to face London again? How would her friends react? How much of the previous year’s story would be dredged up and recirculated? Above all, how would it be when she inevitably came face to face with Nicholas?
She’d dressed with care, determined to put on a brave front. Her gown was a brown-spotted cream muslin, and with it she wore a tightly-fitted brown velvet spencer that came exactly to the gown’s high waistline. A froth of chestnut curls framed her face, and the rest of her hair was pinned up in a knot beneath her high-crowned straw bonnet. The bonnet was tied beneath her chin with wide, wired ribbons she’d had woven specially for her, in a design of the little brown birds after which she’d been named. She strove not to fidget with the strings of her reticule, for that would have alerted her hawk-eyed great-aunt to the extent of her secret uncertainty. She was glad of the carriage’s close confines, for it meant that she could feel Benedict beside her, and occasionally touch his hand, without her great-aunt noticing.
The past week had been a trial, for the old lady hadn’t wasted an opportunity to try to dissuade her from returning to London, citing various excellent reasons for remaining in the Lake District. First of all there was Linnet’s personal well-being, which her great-aunt was convinced would suffer from such an unwise move. Next there was the apparent mystery surrounding Benedict’s financial affairs. The fact that it wasn’t a mystery at all, but a legal tangle that he could do nothing about, made no difference to the old lady, who was of the opinion, only just concealed from Benedict himself, that it was Linnet’s fortune, and not Linnet herself, that was proving the real attraction as far as he was concerned. Finally there was Venetia, who apparently shouldn’t be trusted on any account. Linnet had endured it all, for she knew her great-aunt was concerned only for her, but it was very difficult holding her tongue when there was constant criticism both of the man she loved and of her closest friend.