Laura Matthews

by A Very Proper Widow

  Mrs. Wilstrop eyed him speculatively. “Mrs. Damery has taken hold of the estate now, but it can’t be easy to get rid of all those people.”

  “No, it’s not easy.” Alvescot drew his gloves slowly through his hands, frowning at a slight tear in one of them, probably a result of his collision with Edward. “Do you happen to know Edward Curtiss? I understand he’s frequently in town.”

  Mrs. Wilstrop snorted her disgust. “He has a woman here, a married woman with a husband who’s away most of the time. And he gambles and drinks. Altogether a wicked man, if I may be so bold as to say so.”

  “Quite.” Alvescot smiled at her quivering indignation as she took his driving cloak and gloves, and led him to a private parlor off the entryway. One window was open and a curtain fluttered in the breeze. Mrs. Wilstrop indicated a small writing desk, scarred but serviceable, in an alcove toward the rear. “You’ll find what you need there, sir. Did you want a tankard of ale?”

  “Thank you, no.” As she turned to leave, he spoke abruptly. “There is one thing, though. Mrs. Hortense Damery’s house here in town. Do you know who’s let it?”

  “A man by the name of Jackson. He don’t spend much time there any more.” She pursed her lips and her eyes became thoughtful. “I doubt he intends to renew the lease when it comes due next month. The folks hereabouts didn’t just take him to their hearts, so to speak. I guess he expected a little more respect for having the grandest home in town. We’re simple folk, but not given to toadying to some overblown stranger. He don’t use the shops here, and he’s never set foot in the church. Who needs him?”

  Satisfied, the earl nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Wilstrop. You’ve been a great help.”

  His pen scratched quickly across the sheet for several minutes. Even if Louisa’s impression was wholly in her head, the strange story of her father’s death could bear some investigation. Alvescot might have considered going to London himself, but he found he didn’t want to leave Cutsdean yet, and he had confidence that his solicitor would give the necessary attention to his request. When he had finished the letter, he sanded and sealed it before seeking out Mrs. Wilstrop, who, in appreciation of the coins he pressed on her, offered to carry it herself to the receiving office.

  At Newsholme’s he found Louisa debating between two identical colors of thread which matched the sample she had brought. Alvescot patiently helped her make the decision and trusted to her choice of toys for the children since her childlike delight in them could be no less than John’s or Catherine’s. He was tempted to buy a charming parasol he saw on display for Vanessa but resisted the urge, only to have it catch Louisa’s eye. Her gaze was so whimsically eager that he hadn’t the heart to deny her, having seen how few were the coins in her purse. Louisa rushed into a flow of grateful words.

  “It’s no more than a trinket,” he muttered, “in appreciation for your assistance in buying the children’s toys.”

  What Mabel Curtiss would say of the gift he preferred not to imagine.

  Chapter Eleven

  When Alvescot had driven away in the curricle with Louisa, Vanessa tried to turn her full attention to her son. It would have been pleasant, she admitted, to have been the one who set off with the earl on his excursion to Basingstoke, but she had been in the Breakfast Parlor when Mabel made the push for her daughter. Vanessa was appreciative of Alvescot’s efforts to maintain some kind of peace within the household.

  Louisa, she knew, had no interest whatsoever in their aristocratic guest nor could she believe for a moment that Alvescot entertained the slightest thought of an alliance with Louisa. So their excursion was nothing more than the most ordinary errand trip, which would give Alvescot a chance to see Basingstoke again, and Louisa an opportunity to putter about the goods in the shops, a chief delight with her despite her lack of funds for actually purchasing anything.

  The overcast weather of the last few days had kept little John close to the stables in his rides, and now he urged Vanessa to ride with him to the far boundaries of the estate on the south. Their direction kept them in sight of Alvescot’s curricle for some time, as he tooled his pair along the leafy lane which skirted Cutsdean. Unfortunately, John noticed this as well.

  “Why don’t we go through the West Gate and ride along with them, Mama?” he asked, eager to force himself on his godfather’s attention as often as possible.

  “No, love, we wouldn’t be able to keep up with Lord Alvescot’s pair. Rollo would like our ride a great deal better, I think, if we go down to the stream. There never was such a pony for walking in the water!”

  Easily distracted, John agreed that Rollo would especially like going in the stream, but part of his mind was still on Alvescot and he asked, “How long is he staying, Mama? The earl, I mean. I thought he was only come for a short stay.”

  “Well, he hasn’t said when he’ll be leaving, John. He and I are trustees of your papa’s estate, and he’s looking into matters here.”

  “What’s a trustee?”

  “A person who looks out for your interests in a piece of property.” Vanessa smiled at his look of confusion. “One day Cutsdean will be yours, but someone has to take care of it in the meantime, until you’re old enough to do it yourself.”

  “I thought Mr. Burford did that.”

  “Mr. Burford makes plans for the estate and carries them out, but I’m responsible, with Lord Alvescot, for deciding what plans to use. I direct the work Mr. Burford does because I’m the one who wants to make sure your inheritance will come to you.” The boy still looked uncertain, so Vanessa said, “It’s like taking care of you and Catherine. I’m your mother and I’m responsible for your health and happiness, but I can’t be with you all the time, so Lucy takes care of you under my direction.”

  “I see,” John said, nodding wisely as his pony jogged across the meadow. “Since Papa can’t be here to take care of me with you, Lord Alvescot is sort of a second father for me.”

  Startled, Vanessa protested, “Only in a legal way, you know. But then, he’s your godfather, too, which is sort of a religious guardianship. And he’s your father’s cousin, of course, so he’s related to you as well.”

  “There, you see?” the little boy piped. “He’s connected with me in every sort of way, so I shall think of him as my . . . my step-papa.”

  Color rose in Vanessa’s cheeks and she agitatedly toyed with the reins in her hands. “No, John, that would he inaccurate. The only person who can be your step-papa is a man to whom your mother is married after your father. You should think of Lord Alvescot as your godfather, since that is what he is.”

  “Oh, very well.” John was tired of the subject and gave Rollo an energetic kick to start him trotting toward the row of trees along the bank of the stream.

  Now why should his saying that have upset me, Vanessa admonished herself. Obviously, he’s heard the term “stepfather” and simply thought it would fit in this instance. He’s a child, and as a child I’m probably lucky he didn’t ask me something like, “Well, why don’t you marry him, then?” Not that I couldn’t have answered a question like that. I would simply have said . . . Various possibilities came half-formed into her mind, but none of them seemed both appropriate and wholly honest. In the end, as she and John dismounted near the stream, she decided she was infinitely grateful to him for not posing the question, and she would be careful in future to avoid the subject entirely.

  John walked along holding Rollo’s reins while the pony splashed up and down the stream. The two of them made so much noise Vanessa was not aware of Paul Burford’s presence until he had ridden quite close to them. She watched him spring down from his horse and tousle John’s hair before approaching her with a smile.

  “I thought I might find you here. For the last few days I’ve wanted a word with you, but there never seemed a good opportunity.”

  His face was mildly perturbed and Vanessa said, “Come and sit with me. I just want to keep an eye on John so he doesn’t do anything outrageous.”
/>   Paul tied his horse to a sapling and crouched down near her, brushing at a twig that had stuck to his buckskin breeches. There was a layer of dust on his brown topboots, but he paid no heed to it as he turned thoughtful eyes to her. “It’s a little difficult to broach the matter, Vanessa, because I know Alvescot is your co-trustee and he has every right to go into estate records as thoroughly as he wishes. And you mustn’t think he’s been in any way impolite or condescending to me. That’s not at all the case. But he seems to have some bee in his bonnet (so to speak) about my management of Cutsdean.”

  A fly was buzzing about his head and he swatted at it impatiently, as though the distraction might prevent him from stating his case cogently. “I could understand his suspicion at first. After all, our expenses have been high for the last year, though not out of proportion to what we can expect from the harvest. He’s seen all that now, but he continues to go into everything with a fine-toothed comb. At this rate, he could be here a month.”

  “Yes, I know it’s a little nerve-racking.” She brushed a strand of black hair away from her cheek. “But he hasn’t found anything whatsoever amiss, Paul. Not that I expected him to! I mean, I really believe he’s coming to realize that you’ve done wonders for Cutsdean. He didn’t understand the condition into which the land had gotten, you know, or the need for repairs to the cottages. You may be sure he wouldn’t allow such a state of affairs to exist at St. Aldwyns. And he was such a good friend of Frederick’s that I think it’s a bit difficult for him to understand how my husband could have permitted the neglect during those years.”

  Paul nodded and turned his gaze to John and Rollo, both now well splashed with water. “I don’t think Alvescot disapproves of anything I’ve done here, or my plans for the next few years. What he can’t seem to decide is whether I’ve diverted any of the Cutsdean resources to my own estate.”

  “Oh, Paul, you mustn’t think that. I’m sure he knows better.”

  “But there’s no way to prove it, Vanessa,” he said with a shrug. “Of course it would have been the easiest thing in the world to divert a few bags of seed to Buckland, or made off with a few chickens. I wonder if he thinks I tucked them under my coat.”

  Vanessa was relieved to see a grin transform his face. “Or under your hat,” she laughed. “No, Paul, I’m convinced he doesn’t have the least doubt of your honesty any more, or your ability.”

  “Then why does he continue to go into the books and roam about the estate?” Paul asked, exasperated.

  “It gives him an excuse to stay.” Vanessa regretted her words the moment they left her mouth. His brows shot up and she hastened to clarify her meaning. “He has taken it into his head that it’s his duty to see me rid of all my undesirable guests, you see. On the very first day he came, he assured me that Frederick would not have allowed all of them to settle here, and he considers their imposition an affront to me, or him, or the universe, I’m not sure which. Anyhow, he was behind Captain Lawrence’s leaving, and I very much fear he’s intent on staying until he clears Cutsdean of the lot of them.”

  “I shouldn’t think that was his business.”

  “No, it isn’t, but he won’t admit to that being his reason for staying, and I can’t very well ask him to leave. So I’m very much afraid you will have to put up with his wandering around and poking his nose into things for a while longer, Paul.”

  The young man studied her rather intently for a moment, noting the color in her cheeks and the way her head was turned slightly away from him. There seemed to be more to Alvescot’s stay than she was willing to admit, but he hadn’t the right to probe further. He rose to his feet without further ado, brushing his hair back with one arm before settling his hat on his head.

  “You know I’m at your service, Vanessa, and I’m perfectly willing to answer Alvescot’s questions for as long as he sees fit to ask them. I hope you’re right that he doesn’t really suspect me of any misappropriation of goods. And if he’s successful in finding new homes for your guests, all the better.”

  “It’s something I should do myself, if I wish it done,” she answered, a trifle stiffly. “I don’t know that I am entirely convinced I’m not responsible for some of them.”

  He gave her a mocking glance as he swung up onto his horse. “They’re such a grateful bunch . . .”

  “True charity is its own reward,” she retorted, but her eyes were playful rather than serious. Vanessa watched him wave and ride off before she called to John. “We’ll have to go now if we want to be on time for luncheon, my love. Don’t forget to change into dry shoes when we get home.”

  Vanessa was coming down the stairs from changing her clothes when Alvescot and Louisa entered the house. Louisa was reluctantly closing her parasol, which she had used to protect herself from the sun all the way from the stables. Alvescot had offered to leave her at the front door, but as this provided no opportunity to use the new trinket, Louisa had assured him she preferred to walk back from the stables with him.

  “Look what Lord Alvescot has given me!” Louisa cried, once again unfurling the parasol. “Is it not the most charming one you’ve ever seen?”

  It was, which only made it harder for Vanessa to say so. “Lovely,” she murmured, not meeting the earl’s eyes. “Imagine finding so luscious a sunshade in Basingstoke.”

  “Yes, that is just what I was telling him. But it was right there on display, Vanessa. And I very nearly didn’t see it myself, except that Lord Alvescot was so taken with it.”

  William Oldcastle was just beginning to round the corner of the stairs, and Louisa called up to him with great eagerness. “Oh, William, you will be so pleased for me. I have needed a parasol for the longest time. I daresay you recall that my own is quite tattered. And look what we have found in Basingstoke, of all places. Mama always says you cannot find anything of the least merit at Newsholme’s. But even in London I’ve not seen anything to equal it.”

  It should be noted that Louisa did not actually say, to William, that Alvescot had bought it for her. In his present state of dejection, however, he never for a moment doubted it, and the gift loomed large in his eyes. Over the years he had given Louisa a few trinkets, to be sure, but nothing which had caught her enthusiasm in quite the same way as the parasol. Her eyes glowed with delight and her cheeks were pink with pleasure. The fine, long fingers that called forth such exquisite music from the pianoforte were now stroking the polished handle and the blue silk fabric.

  All this caused William a real pang of regret. He alone was supposed to provide Louisa with such treasures. To him the gift was a symbol of something more—a sign that Alvescot was decidedly courting “his” intended. The fact that he had never once, over the twelve years, actually brought himself to offer for her was entirely beside the point. It was understood that they would be married, and here was Louisa accepting gifts from a perfect stranger. The very thought made William’s choler rise, and he snapped, “I’ve seen dozens exactly like it in London. It’s probably an imitation, though, if you’ve bought it here in Basingstoke. They do that sort of thing, you know,” he added, with a decided air of knowledge.

  Louisa was stung by his callousness. How could he try to take the pleasure out of the one treat she had had in the last year? Tears welled up in her vague blue eyes and threatened to spill over onto suddenly pale cheeks. Clutching the parasol tightly to her, she stumbled blindly away from the group in the Entrance Hall and ran awkwardly up the stairs. The sound of a heart-wrenching sob drifted down to the others.

  “I say,” William protested, guiltily pulling at his neckcloth to ease it about his neck.

  “Gudgeon,” Alvescot muttered, stomping past Oldcastle and giving only a brief nod to Vanessa before he, too, ascended the staircase.

  Neither of the two left, Vanessa or William, was sure whether the earl intended to go to his room or to follow Louisa. It seemed unlikely he would do the latter. In fact, it seemed unlikely (to Vanessa) that in her current state Louisa would even be able to fin
d her own room. Vanessa hesitated at the foot of the stairs, uncertain whether to follow, but decided against it. What could she say?

  Though William and Louisa frequently bickered, she had never seen Louisa so overset before. Arguing was one of the ways William and Louisa communicated, and though it was not a method to be recommended for everyone, it often suited their purposes well, since William did not like to be contradicted, and Louisa was not willing to submit to his ideas without expressing her own. In Vanessa’s considered opinion, neither of them had any convictions worth fighting for, but she did like to see Louisa stand up for her notions, especially when William’s were particularly idiotic.

  Vanessa was exasperated with William. If the man didn’t intend to marry Louisa, why in heaven’s name was he so obstinately refusing to uproot himself from Cutsdean? And if he did intend to marry her, why didn’t he act like it? She turned to him now with a frown. “I’m surprised you’d be so unkind as to dash Louisa’s pleasure that way, William.”

  “She shouldn’t have accepted a gift from him,” William retorted, sulky. “It’s not proper. She hardly knows the man.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, “How long do you have to know a man? Twelve years?” but she refrained, saying mildly, “They're related, William. They were both cousins of Frederick’s. If Lord Alvescot wished to indulge her with such a small gift, I’m sure he had every right to do so, and she to accept. No one else indulges Louisa. She never has a pence of pocket money with Edward so expensive as he is.”

  “Oh, yes, Edward,” the man said scornfully. “He would suck a turnip dry. I have every reason to believe he was extorting money from Captain Lawrence, you know, and I doubt the old gentleman will return here after his visit in Somerset.”

  Vanessa was staring at him in astonishment. “If you thought there was something amiss, why didn’t you do anything about it?”

  “I tried to talk to the old fellow,” William protested, aggrieved at this new attack. “He wouldn’t admit a thing, said I was talking nonsense, as I always did. Well, what was I supposed to say to that, I ask you? It’s a great pity Louisa has such a rascal for a brother,” he added darkly. “Perhaps Lord Alvescot will like to keep an eye on him, and be constantly pestered for money. The fellow’s pockets are always to let and it’s his own dissipated ways that account for it. No one else is to blame.”