These words, spoken very low, still reached Aspasia’s attentive ear where she lay on the rug a few feet from the men and struck her so hard somewhere in the region of her heart that she could barely prevent herself from crying out.
Chapter 18
While Aspasia was listening to the two men discussing her niece, that damsel was walking slowly along the river bank with the Countess leaning upon her arm.
She did not like the older woman, indeed she was afraid of her, but she was quite accustomed to such negative feelings as there had been few people in her life who had triggered warmth within her affection-starved breast. She had loved her mother – more because she was her mother than because Lady Hankham had given her much cause – but had, ultimately, felt failed by her when she had sided with her husband and forbidden Letty to have any contact with Lord Archibald. Her mother’s lack of sympathy had without doubt led directly to the aborted elopement.
She had never been close to her father and had not felt any great degree of affection for her elder sister, a young woman who had not troubled to hide her dislike and resentment of her prettier sister and had been to considerable pains to humiliate her at every opportunity. There had been no one else on whom she could bestow her love until that fateful morning when she had beheld Lord Archibald for the first time. He had been standing in the window with his dark head bent over a slim volume of poetry. He had looked up as she opened the door and smiled and she, struck as though by a bolt of lightning, had almost flown across the room and into his arms. It was the first time she had felt that devastating combination of melting bones, lurching heart and burning heat which is sometimes – not altogether inaccurately – described as a coup de foudre.
Since her mother died she had lost her father to another woman, lost the opportunity for her long-anticipated come-out with all the dresses, outings, flirtations and amusement that most girls of her station expected and, finally, lost the man she had believed to be her one true love.
Settling for marriage to the Earl had appeared to be the only possible way out of a life which had sometimes seemed hardly worth living; the fact that he was her true love’s brother had been a disincentive but she had decided that, although it was not a small price, it was nevertheless one she was prepared to pay to escape the continuing misery of life at home.
Seeing her love again had been not so much like waking from a dream and finding everything she had believed to be real was in fact imaginary, but that the dream itself had become tarnished. It was not only the horror of his appearance, the dreadful half-loss of his beauty, the transformation of his manly strength into infirmity, it was far more than this. Her predominant emotion, after the initial shock, was not horror so much as disappointment. She did not love him any more; perhaps she had never loved him, had loved only the glimmering dream.
“Tell me,” the Countess said in an unusually soft voice, “about how you fell in love with my son.”
“I don’t know,” Letty said truthfully. “I just saw him and fell in love with him.”
“And I take it that today you just saw him and fell out of love with him?”
“Yes.”
“Was it the damage to his face?”
“No, I don’t think so – although that did give me a horrid shock. It – he was not the man I remembered.”
“Of course not, but I daresay you had misremembered him in any event. You made him into a sort of hero and, when all is said and done, he is just a man.”
Letty did not answer for she thought that the Countess’s description of her son was distinctly lacking in maternal pride, although she was honest enough to acknowledge that her summary was very likely correct.
“Do you find him changed, my lady?” she asked.
“He is changed but I suppose you mean something other than his physical appearance. He was a boy when he went off to war and has come back an old man barely four years later. It is difficult to come to terms with it. Frederick, who sent him off and should be feeling a degree of guilt about his actions, affects not to notice and maintains that Archibald will regain his joie de vivre in time. Do you really intend to marry Frederick?” she finished abruptly.
“I have said that I will.”
“Just now – a few hours ago – you said that you would not. I suppose it is nothing to do with me, and you will think me an interfering old woman if I say that, to my mind, it would be an excessively unwise thing to do. He is far too old for you. If you do not want to marry Archibald, I suggest you leave as soon as possible before you cause more trouble.”
“It was you who invited me, my lady,” Letty said with a sort of stubborn defensiveness. “Am I to take it you are now disinviting me? Is that because I have proved to be a disappointment?”
“Not precisely; you are much prettier than I expected – and much younger. Oh, I knew how old you were and I warned Frederick about marrying such a young girl but, now that I have met you, I find you excessively immature and consider you wholly unsuitable to become a countess – his countess in any event. I expected you to be a plain girl, grateful to have found a man prepared to offer you a title and fully aware of your duty towards him – and me. Instead, I find a flighty creature with no idea how to behave and who is, besides, inclined to be defiant and exigent. I do not think you will suit; certainly, when Frederick leaves you at Stonegate when he goes back to London, I cannot imagine that you and I will have much in common. And how in the world will you manage your children? I do not wish the next generation of Meridews to be brought up under your guidance.”
“Well!” Letty exclaimed, rallying, “Since you have been so open with me, my lady, I believe I should be as frank with you: I have changed my mind while you were speaking and decided that I will marry Frederick, and I will insist that he sends you away to a dower house of some sort a long way away for I cannot contemplate living under the same roof as you – and the North Tower is a deal too close. Now, I believe I will return to my fiancé’s side.”
With which she removed the Countess’s hand from her arm, turned smartly on her heel and set off briskly the way they had come.
When she reached the rest of the party she found her aunt lying on a rug, apparently asleep, a few feet from the two men.
She was red in the face and clearly exceedingly angry when she came to a halt in front of them.
“Has Mama been uncivil?” Lord Stonegate asked, trying unsuccessfully to conceal his amusement.
“Yes! She says we will not suit and has told me to go home at once!”
“Good God! You must not pay too much heed to what she says, you know, for she delights in upsetting people. What have you done with her?”
“I wish I had pushed her into the river!” Letty declared. “And it is all very well for you: I suppose you are accustomed to her excessive rudeness, but I am not, and I will not put up with it! If you do not prevent her from treating me in this way I shall leave at once – and never come back!”
As she spoke Letty was well aware that she had just threatened the Countess with the opposite conclusion to her visit but, since the witch was not present, she did not think there was much risk of her being accused of inconsistency on this occasion.
The Earl stood up and made to take Letty’s hand, but she stepped back, away from him.
“I want to go home!”
“And so you shall. We will leave at once. Let me take you back to the house immediately where I will order the carriage to be made ready. Archibald, would you mind waiting here until Mama returns?”
“But will she?” he asked. “Or shall I be obliged to dive into the river to rescue her?”
“I did not push her in!” Letty exclaimed. “If she is in the river it is by her own choice and I’m sure I hope she will be unable to get out!”
The raised voices had woken Aspasia, who had, when the men ceased to talk about her and her niece, lost interest in the conversation and genuinely fallen asleep.
“Now what is the matter?” she asked, sit
ting up and rubbing her eyes.
“That witch was horrid to me and told me to go home,” Letty explained in an aggrieved tone.
“So, as a preliminary move, I believe we should go back to the Castle,” the Earl added.
Aspasia got to her feet.
“Yes. Are you staying here, my lord?” she asked Archie who did not appear to be making any move either in the direction of his mother or back towards the house.
“Yes; I suppose my mother will appear soon and give me her side of the story.”
“Then I will thank you for your hospitality today. No. pray do not feel you must get up,” Aspasia said as Lord Archibald struggled to rise to his feet.
“It was the greatest possible pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, smiling at her and taking her hand.
“I hope you will follow us back to the Castle,” the Earl said to his brother as he prepared to lead the guests back to the house.
“I believe I might,” Archie said. “But I own it depends to some extent on whether I feel strong enough after I have spoken to Mama. Will you wait for her or shall I send her back in my carriage?”
“You can accompany her,” the Earl said. “We will not wait but, if she returns soon and comes straight up, she will no doubt be in time to come with us.”
“Lord, I hope she won’t take too long; a journey to the Castle à deux would prolong our tête-à-tête a little more than either of us would find altogether comfortable,” Archie said with a twisted smile.
“Indeed. When I see Oliphant, shall I tell him to instruct your valet to pack a bag for you?”
“If you wish,” Archie said indifferently before turning to Letty and saying, “I hope it will not be too distressing for you if I come to the Castle in your wake.”
“I will not be there for long,” Letty replied. “I suppose we will set off north again tomorrow, will we not, Aunt?”
“Possibly,” Aspasia said non-committally. She was uncomfortable: too hot, conscious that her dress was creased and her hair in wisps; in addition, she was disorientated and thirsty. She looked longingly at the jug of lemonade, a glance that was intercepted by the Earl.
He went at once to the table and filled a glass with the pale, cloudy liquid before handing it to her.
“One is always overpoweringly in need of a drink after one has fallen asleep in the sun,” he said.
Unfortunately, in Letty’s view, it took so long for Lord Archibald’s groom to put the horses to that they had not yet taken their seats in the carriage when the Countess appeared with her son.
“I can see you are on the point of departure,” she said frostily, “and no doubt hoped to leave me behind.”
“Not at all,” her stepson responded pleasantly. “It was just that Letitia felt so unwell that she begged me to accelerate our return to the Castle; Archibald assured me that he would send you back in his carriage as soon as you were ready to leave if we had gone by the time you got back.”
“I am ready to leave now,” she snapped, “and hope I know better than to castigate your betrothed for the cavalier manner in which she abandoned an old woman to make her own way back along an uneven and dangerous path. Fortunately, my son, in spite of his own infirmities, came at once to help me for which, dear Archibald, I am exceedingly grateful.”
“Not at all, Mama,” he replied. “I have agreed with Frederick that I will come back to the Castle later today – or perhaps tomorrow – so that I shall see you again very soon.”
“Why are you coming back now?” she asked. “Are you in thrall to that selfish young woman who seems to take pleasure in playing you and Frederick off against each other?”
“Not in the least. In any event, my being in thrall to her would be of no use since she is plainly indifferent to me – as indeed she should be since she is affianced to my brother. No, I am coming because Frederick has requested it and also because I understand that a friend of mine, Captain Lord Sharpthorne, may turn up soon and I would like to see him again. Good-bye for a short time, Mama, Frederick, Miss Denton – and Mrs Ripley. I have much appreciated your sympathy, Ma’am,” he added, kissing Aspasia’s hand.
Chapter 19
The Earl, who had travelled out on horseback, decided to sit in the carriage for the return journey, promising his brother that he would send a groom to fetch his horse later.
Aspasia, thankful to have him there, guessed that he had not felt it wise to leave the three women alone again. He sat beside his betrothed, leaving Aspasia to take the seat next to Lady Stonegate.
The Countess, who was fatigued after a long day of setting so many people from a relatively small cast of characters against each other, said very little and soon fell asleep, sitting bolt upright.
The Earl, perceiving this, ceased his efforts to engage everyone in conversation on unexceptionable topics and fell silent too so that the carriage rumbled on through the country with no sound but for the wheels bumping and bouncing along the road.
Letty heaved a sigh, whether of relief that they had left Amberstone or that she was not to be subjected to more of the Countess’s venom for the time being, closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the squabs. Soon she too was asleep.
“I hope you will not feel you must leave tomorrow,” the Earl said to Aspasia. “I would like it immensely if you would stay a little longer and give us a chance to improve our performance, which, I own, has not been of the highest quality so far.”
“There are circumstances which make it difficult,” Aspasia said hesitantly. “Her ladyship seems a trifle chagrined and Letty, of course, has suffered a shock.”
“The damage to Archibald’s face will improve with time,” the Earl reiterated. “I must tell you that I was vastly impressed by the tactful – and sympathetic – way you handled him.”
“I suppose I am old enough not to be entirely focused upon myself but young enough to be able to deal with unforeseen events without losing my composure,” she said slowly.
“In other words, the perfect age for facing up to life’s vicissitudes?”
“I did not mean that particularly; only that both the very young and the very old can be rather too taken up with their own sentiments for reasons which we can all understand – and mostly remember in the case of the young. In addition, of course, Lord Archibald is neither my son nor the man I swore to love for all eternity.”
She spoke the last few words with a humorous inflection and received an ironic smile in return.
“Did you know of the failed elopement?” he asked.
“At the time? No; my brother and I are not close due to my having done the same thing with rather more success and a predictably unfortunate result some years ago. He has not forgiven me and only engaged me as a chaperone, I believe, because he could not be bothered to think of anyone more suitable. No, Letty only told me the story as we were travelling here.”
“And you thought how absurd it was?”
“No; on the contrary, it is all too common – the very young falling violently in love and making all sorts of rash promises; why, you only have to look at Romeo and Juliet to see, not only how strongly the young feel, but also what fatal consequences the meddling of the old can wreak. I did try, faintly, to argue with her as we travelled, but abandoned the effort eventually because I was afraid my opinion would only make her adherence to the permanency of her sentiments more entrenched. It does not surprise me in the least that she should find herself indifferent when she finally set eyes upon him.”
“Perhaps not, but the waters are muddied by his injuries which have accelerated her withdrawal and added to his misery. He was not so very young when he tumbled headlong into love with her. What do you think will transpire?”
“If she does not warm towards him again, will you go ahead and marry her?” she asked, avoiding the question for she was unable to guess whether either his brother or her niece would change their minds again – indeed, if they did, no doubt they would still be on opposing sides.
<
br /> “I suppose I will be obliged to,” he replied with a lopsided grin.
“Do I take it you have changed your mind too?”
“I think you may. However, I have made a promise and will not renege on it.”
“I hope you will,” she said with some force although barely above a whisper since she had no wish to disturb either of the sleepers.
“Why?” he asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.
“Because it is, frankly, the devil of a situation! You cannot marry the young woman for whom your brother clearly still holds a candle and, to tell you the truth, even if you are prepared to do something so idiotic, I would do my best to prevent it. I do not think she would be happy as your wife.”
“Why not? Am I so monstrous? And, especially in view of your remarks about Romeo and Juliet, how would you go about stopping it?”
“I would be obliged to exercise extreme caution and subtlety to achieve my aim because I remember all too well how pig-headed I was at Letty’s age and how the slightest opposition only drove me to dig my heels in. Indeed, I think I might encourage the match and hope that she rebels against my advice!”
“You have not answered my other question. Am I such an ogre that you believe I would be unkind to her?”
“No – or at least I do not know you well enough to be certain, but to my mind you are by no means in love with her; indeed I do not think you even find her particularly attractive; your manner towards her is avuncular and, while that may mean you will be kind to her, it is not the ideal beginning for a marriage. No doubt you would do your duty by her, treat her gently and buy her quantities of childish gifts – dresses, jewellery and so forth – but I do not think you would consider her an equal or seek her advice on any matter on which you had doubts. She would be a sort of plaything of which you would soon grow bored and, once that happened, I suspect you would never take her out of her box, as it were. You would leave her alone with your stepmother, who already dislikes her, and return to London and your mistress.”
Letitia Or The Convalescent Heart Page 16