“He does not owe me anything,” Letty protested, rather insulted by this analysis.
“Not so far as we can see but I wonder – only that – whether he sees things a little differently.”
“He did not ruin me!” Letty exclaimed. “He rescued me!”
“Yes; that, I am convinced, is what he thought he was doing at the time. I just wonder whether, in the intervening years, he has come to the conclusion that his action damaged your reputation. After all, as you have said yourself, the chances of your receiving an offer from anyone else are remote. When he made the offer, he thought his brother was dead and, perhaps feeling responsible for that too – on account of obtaining the commission - decided that, there being nothing he could do to bring Lord Archibald back from the dead, he could at least rescue you again.”
“Lud! If that is the reason I believe I must cry off now that Archie has, as it were, come back from the grave for I cannot allow him to make such a sacrifice. I suppose I will just have to reconcile myself to spending the rest of my life with Papa and his horrid wife.”
Chapter 12
Aspasia said, “Those are not the only alternatives. I know it is hard – and you would no doubt like to have everything settled – but there will be other choices. You will see.”
But Letty could not see much prospect of anything more positive transpiring in the future. She said miserably, “It is my fault Archie has been so badly hurt for it’s my belief that, if I had not run off with him, Stonegate would not have bought him the commission.”
“Perhaps not,” Aspasia conceded. “But you must not blame yourself.”
“Why not? I am to blame! And now I do not want to marry him – indeed, I don’t want to marry either of them!”
“You are not to take responsibility for what has happened to him!” Aspasia exclaimed, becoming quite heated in her turn. “It was he who made love to you when you were too young to have the least idea what you were doing and he who persuaded you to elope! And it was some foreign soldier who hurt him! A man who kisses a girl when she is fourteen deserves everything unpleasant that fate visits upon him.”
Once again, Aspasia’s attempt to absolve Letty of guilt had the opposite effect to the one she had intended.
Letty fired up at once, exclaiming, “It was I who kissed him quite as much as he who kissed me! We kissed each other! It is outrageous to lay the blame solely upon him!”
“Yes, but you were a child and did not know what you were doing.”
“That is nonsense, Aunt; I knew perfectly well. I took one look at him and wanted to kiss him more than anything – and I did. It was my fault and, if he did not push me away, that was because – oh, I don’t know, but I rather think most men would not turn their noses up at a pretty girl casting herself into their arms. I realise now that it was all because of his handsome face; I do not think I knew that until today, but I cannot escape the knowledge that – now - I have no desire at all to kiss him. I am afraid I am just as horrid and unfeeling as the worst of our family – and shallow too!”
“Well, at least you have discovered your error in time,” Aspasia murmured, rendered wary by Letty’s earlier response.
“I don’t want to kiss Stonegate either,” Letty declared as though that somehow proved her point.
They were standing in the middle of the narrow path, their dresses already dampened by the plants sprawling across it.
Aspasia did not reply but her eyes were fixed with painful attention upon her niece’s countenance, which was no longer pale but now rather red.
“I suppose I would have to if I married him,” Letty persisted, clearly put out by her aunt’s failure to respond.
Aspasia nodded. “You would have to do more than kiss him,” she pointed out, beginning to wonder whether her niece had the least idea of what went on between married people.
Letty went even redder and turned away. “Oh, I know that, Aunt, and I am sure it will be perfectly horrid, but I am prepared for it.”
“Are you though? Were you, as you put it, ‘prepared for it’ when you eloped?”
“Yes, of course I was – and then I was looking forward to it,” Letty retorted.
“Shall we go back?” Aspasia asked, feeling that now was probably not the time to enter into a discussion of the relative merits of married life as seen from the point of view of a girl of sixteen wildly and romantically in love with the forbidden in contrast to the judgment of a twenty-year-old about to enter the estate, this time with a man for whom her heart did not beat faster. “They must be wondering what has become of us.”
Letty did not argue, although she pouted, but turned and began to walk back the way they had come.
She said, apparently still eager to justify Lord Archibald’s behaviour, “You expressed outrage at the idea of Archie kissing me when I was fourteen – and he was two and twenty, which is eight years older – but you seem to think it would be perfectly proper for Stonegate to kiss me – and all the rest – when he is near twenty years older.”
“You are grown up now,” Aspasia said. “It is not a question of the disparity in your ages but of Lord Archibald making love to a schoolgirl.”
“He did not! I made love to him,” Letty shot at her, once more furious.
“That has nothing to do with it,” Aspasia explained with a sigh. “He ought to have put you away from him and explained that you should not do that sort of thing.”
“I never wish to speak of it again,” Letty said loftily, her eyes filling with tears of frustration, as they stepped off the path on to the terrace.
It did not look as though the people in the saloon had been any more comfortable with each other than Letty and Aspasia. The Earl had a cold, shut look upon his face, the Countess was sitting bolt upright with her mouth in the familiar thin line and two bright spots of colour on her cheeks and Lord Archibald was slumped in the chair beside the Madeira bottle, which was now empty. There was an air of barely controlled rage swirling around the room that almost caused the dust to rise from the furniture.
“Oliphant has announced luncheon,” the Earl said with an assumption of civility, offering Letty his arm. “Are you feeling well enough to eat a little?”
“No; yes, of course,” she said indistinctly, taking his arm with the tips of her fingers but keeping her body as far away from his as was compatible with the gesture.
“If you would prefer, I can arrange for a bedchamber to be prepared for you,” he said, “and a tray sent up.”
“No; I will try to behave properly,” she muttered.
“You have not behaved improperly,” he said gently. “It was unfortunate that you felt unwell, but you can scarcely be blamed for it.”
“Oh, but I can!” she cried, although the words were uttered almost under her breath.
“Come; I will take you in to luncheon. Archibald, can you escort Mama and Mrs Ripley?”
“You know I cannot,” Archie retorted. “I have only one arm that is of any use and must use it to wield my stick. I cannot escort anyone. I suppose one of them could lead me in if they can bear to do so!”
“You had better take your guest,” the Countess said, speaking to a space some two foot to the side of her son. “I will walk by myself.”
“Come, Mama,” the Earl said. “Pray take my other arm.”
“I do not need an arm,” she snapped. “I can perfectly well walk on my own.”
“How fortunate you are,” Archie said, heaving himself to his feet where for a few moments it looked likely that he would be unable to remain for he swayed alarmingly and banged against the small table beside his chair so that the empty glass and bottle fell to the floor.
“Will you walk with me, my lord?” Aspasia asked, going to him and steadying his hand where it grasped the top of his cane.
He nodded. “Thank you. You do not flinch when you look at me,” he added as they brought up the rear.
“There is nothing from which to flinch,” she replied, glancing up at hi
s profile as she spoke.
“I do not look so bad from that side,” he conceded, an inflexion of humour lightening his voice.
“No,” she agreed.
He did not: from the left his profile was undamaged, the skin smooth and unbroken, the delicate mouth drooping, but only with despair, and the long sweep of dark eyelashes beneath a strongly drawn eyebrow curiously touching. She thought that he must indeed have been a remarkably handsome man and that it was no wonder that the youthful, ignorant Letty should have thrown herself at him.
“The scar will fade,” she said. “While we were travelling we fell into conversation with a couple of men who said they were in your regiment: Major Fielding and Captain Sharpthorne. The Major has a scar, but it is no detriment to his looks – indeed, it almost enhances them.”
“I remember it – and him,” he said. “He was well enough to go back to the front; I never will.”
“He told us he intends to sell out. His brother-in-law has died, and he wants to help his sister manage her children.”
“Sharpthorne is one of them,” Archie said. “So far as I recall, there are a good many.”
“The Major was apparently at school with your brother,” Aspasia went on, “and expressed a desire to call upon him before they go back to the Peninsula. Would you like me to tell them where they can find you?”
“Not particularly although they were good friends at the time. Forgive me, Mrs Ripley, if I sound less than enthusiastic about seeing them again. Although I own I spend most of my time absorbed in self-pity, I find other people’s hard to bear. I suppose it reminds me that my own is not entirely unjustified.”
“It is not,” Aspasia said. “I hope you will not mind my reading you a lecture. but I consider myself old enough to act in such an overbearing way. In any event, to my mind there are two things which you should perhaps consider: one is that your injuries will improve – at least I do not know the extent of the damage to either your leg or your arm - but I can assure you that the wound on your face will pale and fade with time; the other is that you would be better employed in looking forward and seeing what you can do rather than mourning what you cannot.”
“I cannot argue with your prescription,” Archie said with a little twitch on the good side of his mouth which Aspasia took to be something akin to a smile, “but it is a great deal easier to tell a person – even oneself – what one should be doing than it is to do it. I promise I do remind myself, every morning, that I should consider myself lucky to be alive and to possess all my limbs even if they are not quite in working order.”
“I know,” she said.
“Do you? How do you know, dear Madam? It seems to me that things are not so bad for you.”
“I do not wear my wounds upon my face,” she told him, “but they are there nevertheless.”
He cast her a quick bright look and for a moment she found herself gazing into a deep and surprisingly sympathetic blue eye before he said, “Forgive me. I of all people should not have jumped to such a hasty conclusion.”
They had, after walking down a long dark corridor, at last reached the dining room. Like the saloon, this was a handsome room – very large and furnished with a long table whose fine wood had not been polished for some time and was therefore rather dull – and in places still dusty. There were a great many chairs drawn up to it and five places laid at one end. The silver was as ill-maintained as the wood so that it was difficult for the guests to work up a great deal of enthusiasm, there being a natural reluctance to eat in such a dingy place for fear of the food proving to be as contaminated as the furnishings.
The table was laden with a vast quantity of dishes to which the butler and a rather etiolated youth were adding even as the diners approached. There were several bottles of wine together with jugs of ale and lemonade.
The dishes were all cold, but it seemed that their host – or his cook – had been to a good deal of trouble in planning and producing the meal. There was a whole salmon, several trout, a dish of dressed crab, a side of beef, a ham, several bowls of gleaming vegetables, a variety of cheeses, two loaves of bread, two dishes of butter and a vast silver épergne in the centre of the table displaying a dazzling array of fruit.
Everyone took their places, but nobody helped either themselves or anyone else to a morsel until Archie, with a heavy sigh, cut the salmon one-handed and spooned a portion on to his mother’s plate.
“Mrs Ripley? What can I give you?”
“A piece of the salmon, please,” she murmured.
Oliphant, having completed the furnishing of the table, withdrew and the Earl busied himself with pouring drinks.
“I know Oliphant is old and has not a great many underlings but surely there is somebody who could polish the silver from time to time,” the Countess observed, peering disdainfully at her fork before wiping it on her napkin.
“I suppose I should engage a housekeeper to see to such matters – as well as the dusting,” her son said.
“Do you not have one?” the Countess asked, apparently shocked, although Aspasia suspected that this was not the first time the subject had been aired. “How many servants do you have, Archibald?”
“Oliphant, who came with the house; I think he had grown accustomed to doing nothing and finds it quite hard to get used to having to answer to me, although I am not demanding,” Archie answered. “Otherwise, there is the footman who helped him bring in the drinks; I think he’s Oliphant’s great-nephew; he’s very young and hasn’t the least idea what he is supposed to do, but I have the impression that he is willing to learn if only someone would instruct him. Then there are, I think, a couple of housemaids; I’m not quite sure what they do but believe they should be doing the dusting occasionally if they can fit it in around their other duties. There is a cook, who, to my mind, is the only one worth employing; this salmon has been cooked and served to perfection and his vegetables are first-rate. I believe he has a couple of assistants in the kitchen. Outside, there is a head groom and one under-groom – so he is not head of much.”
“Have you no gardeners?”
“I don’t know – should I have?”
“Pray do not pretend to be mutton-headed,” his mother adjured. “How do you suppose the encroaching forest is to be kept at bay without someone to see to it? Unless those windows are cleared soon, someone will break their neck in the gloom.
“How did you find your way through the undergrowth when you went on to the terrace?” she asked, suddenly directing her attention towards Letty, who was picking at her salmon with a nervous expression on her face.
“It was excessively overgrown. We walked down what seemed to be the remains of a path but were eventually forced to turn round by the increasing impenetrability of the brambles and – and other things. There were nettles,” she added, warming to her theme.
“Did they sting you?” Archie enquired in a hopeful tone.
“Yes – and the brambles tore my dress.”
Chapter 13
Letty knew she sounded childish; she was close to tears for she had not recovered from the shock of Archie’s appearance or indeed her own shameful reaction to it. In addition, she was still feeling unwell and was thankful that the garden had been so thick with weeds. She hoped they would serve to hide the evidence of what she suspected was more a want of character than an indisposition.
“Poor Miss Denton!” Lord Archibald said sarcastically. “Do you find this house and its owner even more repugnant than your own, which I seem to remember you were in a hurry to flee?”
“Not at all,” she returned in a stifled tone. “It – you know …”
But here she was interrupted. She and Archie were almost spitting at each other across the Countess, who was not a woman inclined to tolerate rivals.
“Hold your tongue!” she snapped, directing a look of loathing at Letty.
“I am sorry, my lady,” she replied, her lips trembling. “I know it is excessively uncivil to speak across you, but must I end
ure his lordship’s accusations without being permitted to set him straight on his facts?”
“Yes, you must. I cannot think what your mother was about to allow you to develop such appalling manners. What in any event does it matter what he thinks? You are to marry Stonegate and I am sure I hope you will be very happy.” This last was pronounced in such a way as to convince her listeners that she meant the exact opposite – and was confident that her wish would be granted.
“I am persuaded you will make every effort to ensure their level of happiness is what you believe they deserve,” her son said acidly and, before either his mother or his former love could think of a suitable reply, continued in a gentler tone to Aspasia, “You were wondering, as I recall, why I insist upon living in this ruin when I could more comfortably be accommodated in the Castle? I must suppose you to have your answer.”
She said, “You are bitter, my lord, but I beg that you will not lay the blame for your misfortunes entirely on my niece. She has suffered herself and been much deceived.”
“I am not surprised that you feel you must defend her,” he agreed in a low voice. “Indeed, I honour you for it. No doubt you hold her in affection and are pleased that she is about to embark upon a life of comfort and security with my brother. As I told you before, he is a good man and will treat her well if my mother allows him to.”
Letty, relieved that Archie had ceased to attack her, bent her head over her plate and tried to eat her luncheon. She could not bring herself to speak to the Countess. Swallowing a piece of salmon with difficulty, she glanced up imploringly at the Earl, who responded with a reassuring smile and, helping himself to some trout, asked, “Was this caught in your own river, Archibald?”
“Yes, but not by me. It is good, isn’t it? And wonderfully dressed – really my cook is first-rate; I am exceedingly pleased with him.”
“Indeed,” the Earl agreed cordially.
Letitia Or The Convalescent Heart Page 11