“Oh!” she exclaimed, blushing furiously.
“Just so!”
“I would have pleaded ignorance,” she said after a moment. “I did not – I thought you spoke to me because you felt Letty did not want to spend time with you and you did not wish her to know that her defection hurt you.”
“No. I am well aware that I should be making a great deal more effort to engage my fiancée’s affections, but the truth is that I am enormously grateful to Captain Sharpthorne for amusing her. I have always maintained that, if she does wish to go ahead with the marriage, I will be more than happy to fulfil my obligation, but I own I am finding myself increasingly reluctant to do so. Indeed, I am beginning to fear that doing so will, not to put too fine a point upon it, ruin any chance I might have had of happiness.”
Chapter 24
“Oh!” she said again. It was an inadequate response but, unable to convince herself that she was reading too much into what the Earl had said, she found her heart beating so violently that she was almost afraid that it would jump out of her chest.
“I apologise if I have shocked you,” he said, correctly interpreting the blush and the conscious look which accompanied it, “but, in truth, I think we are both old enough to – not to pretend that we are indifferent to each other. Of course, I do not flatter myself that you reciprocate my affections and I own I did not intend to declare my own but – I find I can no longer contain how I feel.”
“I see.” She did not – or at least she understood that Stonegate was telling her that he had formed an attachment to her. She supposed that she should not have been surprised for she had not missed the way his face lit up when she came into a room nor the way he sought her out on every occasion. But what she did not know - and indeed could not guess - was what he meant to do about it – and, perhaps even more importantly, how he expected her to respond.
She was, after all, so far as she knew, a married woman; he was a betrothed man. His declaration could not involve what a woman of her background and upbringing would expect: an offer of marriage. Therefore, she must assume he was looking for some sort of liaison and, in view of his long-standing attachment to Lady Vanston, she must suppose it to be a short one. Was she prepared for such a thing? To become a man’s mistress – briefly – before ceding him to her niece and going home to her small house in Yorkshire? Or had he decided that, if she stayed in the Castle indefinitely – until he grew tired of her presumably – he could enjoy a liaison with the aunt and marriage with the niece?
“Do you?” he asked, watching her face.
The colour rose higher in her cheeks. “I suppose so. I own I have never received such a proposition before?”
“Proposition? Did you think I was suggesting you become my mistress?”
“I – I did not know,” she whispered, beginning suddenly to wish she could fall into the oubliette for, as with her previous experience of dealing with men, this one seemed to know precisely what he wanted while she had no idea.
“I wish you would,” he said then. “I can think of nothing more delightful – no, that is the wrong word – as though it would be simply a diversion – nothing would make me happier than to have you in my arms, to escape from the world and live in paradise with you. I suppose that’s what you thought you were doing when you ran away with Mr Ripley,” he finished on a deflated note, becoming conscious perhaps of the gravity of the suggestion.
“Yes.” She spoke heavily, not only forced by his remarks to acknowledge that she had indeed imagined living in a sort of paradise with Mr Ripley, only to discover that the reality more closely resembled a species of hell, but that the prize she had glimpsed with the Earl, for all its imperfections, had been withdrawn before she had had a chance to accept or reject it. It was difficult to conceal her disappointment.
“It must have been lowering,” the Earl said, misinterpreting the source of her disappointment.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak for it seemed to her that
the conversation had plunged into unimaginably deep waters.
“I have some news concerning my enquiries,” he went on, abandoning what had looked suspiciously like a declaration and beginning to speak in a less emotionally-charged voice. “It arrived by this morning’s post and, although I intended to tell you this evening, our finding ourselves alone prompts me to speak of it now. I am afraid it does not add much to what you already knew. The marriage is recorded as having taken place as you told me and there is no record of either party having subsequently sought either an annulment or a divorce. There is also no record of Mr Ripley’s death so that it appears that you are indeed still married. My informant has not, unfortunately, been able to locate him but is continuing to look.”
“Thank you,” she managed to say.
He nodded and continued manfully, although with an air of embarrassment, “Having, rather precipitately, and certainly improperly, declared my own feelings, I find myself in the awkward position of having to ask what you wish to do now.”
“I do not know,” she answered in a rather desperate tone for, not only did she have no idea what to do about her missing but apparently still living husband, but she had the additional dilemma of wondering what precisely the Earl was offering and to what she might be prepared to agree.
“I have surprised you,” he said, making one of his now familiar understatements, “and understand that you will need a period of reflection in order to make any decision. If you decide that you would like a divorce, I can put you in touch with a man of the law who will be able to assist you. I am convinced, and my source in London agrees, that there should be no difficulty in your obtaining one since you have neither seen nor heard from your husband for a number of years. It is incontrovertible that he has deserted you – although he may have done so unintentionally – and this is a reasonable and sufficient basis for seeking – and obtaining – a divorce. If, on the other hand, you would like to resume your marriage, I believe we must instruct someone to track him down and put the matter to him.”
“I need no time at all to state categorically that I have no wish to resume my marriage,” she replied at once. “Not only has he demonstrated that he has no wish to be married to me, but I can assure you that, during the time we did live together, we proved utterly incompatible. On the matter of divorce, I own I am a little anxious lest such a course of action might remind him of me and prompt him to reappear.”
“I cannot see why it should after all this time,” the Earl said, “but, if you are afraid of him, I suggest that, until the divorce has been made final, you might be well advised to find somewhere else to live where he will be unable to find you. I would be happy for you to remain here if that would assist.”
“Would that not make it more likely that he would accuse me of breaking my vows – even if I had not?”
“I suppose it is possible, but I cannot see that it matters since your aim is merely to obtain the divorce. The rights and wrongs of the failure of your union are surely not in themselves particularly important.”
“Not perhaps to you, my lord, who has been – forgive me – conducting an adulterous liaison for years – but I would be appalled to be accused of such a thing – and it would ruin what remains of my reputation.”
“I can understand your feelings, I hope, particularly when you have remained faithful for near sixteen years without so much as a glimpse of the man but, since my hope is that, when you are free, you will become my wife, I am inclined to the view that your reputation will suffer neither a great deal nor for a prolonged period. As soon as you are safely delivered from him, we can tie the knot – that is, if you would like to,” he said diffidently.
Aspasia, glimpsing paradise again for a moment, pushed her joy down with a firm hand and said, “But you are affianced to my niece, my lord.”
“Indeed, but we both know that neither she nor I have any wish to go to the altar together. If she does not in the end desert me, I am afraid I may have no alternativ
e but to jilt her. Shocking, isn’t it? I daresay I am not turning out to be the gentleman you supposed.”
Aspasia was silent for a moment as her heart jumped within her bosom, but she was still conventional enough – perhaps moral enough – to restrain it. She said, “You have reiterated your willingness to wed her several times and have indeed made her what seems to me to be a binding promise to do so. She, it is true, has wavered and declared both her unwillingness and willingness to go ahead on several occasions, sometimes within the space of an hour or two, so that it is difficult to know precisely what her intentions are. So far as I am aware, she has not found another to replace you. I could not betray her by stealing her betrothed; it would be a truly shocking thing if her chaperone were to run off with her fiancé.”
He smiled at the image she conjured but said, “It would be absurd if she and I were to marry when neither of us loves the other and you and I … well, in point of fact, I do not know your sentiments.”
Aspasia did not volunteer to enlighten him. She closed her lips and tried to look mulish but succeeded only in looking miserable.
After a few moments, the Earl continued, “I hope that one day you will feel warmly enough towards me to consider becoming my wife; in the meantime, I understand perfectly your reluctance to divulge your sentiments or give me a definitive answer at this juncture, and wholly respect you for it.”
There was no time for more as Letty and the soldiers could be heard approaching. She seemed to have cast off much of the sulky gloom that had hung about her when Aspasia first met her, and the now rather guilty aunt thought that, whether the Earl in the end jilted her or she abandoned him in favour of one of the young men, this interlude had done her good and given her a taste of the youth she had missed.
They stopped before they reached the Earl and Aspasia, pausing beside Lord Archibald, who had walked a little way with them after they had finished eating and now sat on a fallen column between the two groups.
“I suppose you have explored that side of the site an infinite number of times,” she said as she drew level with him, flanked by the soldiers. “But I thought it was fascinating. There is the remains of a garden which reminded me of yours, Archie. Do you remember it?”
“Which?” he asked, smiling at her. “Mine or the one you’ve just seen?”
“Oh, don’t be silly, this one, of course.”
“No, I don’t,” he said. “It’s a long time since I’ve been here; Frederick and I used to come when we were boys; we climbed all over it and pretended we were defending it against marauding hordes, but we didn’t take much notice of the garden – indeed, I don’t recall there being one at all. I suppose there must have been a long time ago where no doubt the monks grew vegetables for the kitchen.”
“Shall I show you?”
“Now? But you’ve just been there – do you really want to go back?”
“Yes, because I want you to see it!”
“Do you think I can walk so far?” he asked, looking at his friends interrogatively.
“Yes, of course you can!” Letty said at once. “It’s not very far and you will never get better if you sit down all day. Come along!”
She held out her hand and he took it, allowing her to pull him to his feet and put his stick in his hand. He had improved markedly in the two weeks that he had been at the Castle; he was able to put his injured leg to the ground and could stand upon both feet without the cane although he could not easily walk without it. He still wore his right arm in a sling and nobody had enquired whether any feeling had returned to it. The scar upon his face had begun to fade while the rest of his countenance had grown brown in the sun so that he looked young and healthy.
The pair set off, rather slowly, over the uneven ground. The soldiers did not go with them, having communicated something or other by means of a glance, but began instead to make their way back to the Earl and Mrs Ripley, who still sat on the rug under the tree.
“I wish this was mine!” Letty said as they walked.
“Do you like it better than Amberstone?” Lord Archibald asked, teasing.
“No,” she answered seriously, “but there is more scope for one’s imagination here.”
“Not much for anything else, I should say. There is very little left. Do you think I should let Amberstone deteriorate further?”
“No; on the contrary it’s time you did something about it. But it is not nearly as old as this, is it?”
“No; and nobody has sacked it either, so far as I know. It merely suffers from neglect.”
“How long was the house empty before you moved in?”
“I do not remember anyone ever living in it and I am eight and twenty. It was part of the Stonegate estate but, fortunately, not included in the entail. My father left it to me because otherwise I would not have had a house of my own. I’m very grateful to him.”
“Your mother said he didn’t leave enough money to maintain it though.”
“He didn’t leave much money at all; poor Frederick got the Castle and a pile of debts.”
“But the Castle is so well appointed!”
“Just so; that’s why there were so many debts. Papa spent a king’s ransom upon it at Mama’s insistence. She thought of the money as hers because she had brought it with her but in the end there proved to be not quite enough to fulfil all her grandiose plans. When he died, it turned out there was a vast number of creditors. Frederick was forced to sell some land to pay them off.”
“I thought …”
“You thought he must have plenty because he lives in such a sumptuous fashion. He does not. I have wondered – forgive me – whether you may be an heiress. It might explain why your father was so appalled at the thought of wasting you and your thousands on a younger son when he had set his heart on an Earl at the least. No wonder he prefers Frederick to me.”
“Your mama seems to think so, although I cannot conceive whence she came by her knowledge. In any event, that’s her explanation for your brother’s otherwise incomprehensible offer. Is it very odd that I do not know how much I am worth?”
Chapter 25
Lord Archibald laughed. “Yes, it is – exceedingly odd – but, having some idea of what your family is like, it doesn’t particularly surprise me. Why did you think he offered for you?”
“I have not the least idea! I suppose I thought he was looking around for a wife and remembered Lord Hankham had an unwed daughter.”
“As arbitrary as that? No, I think he must have had something else in mind, although I don’t know what. He may not be particularly rich but he has a very old title and is not altogether unprepossessing, so that I cannot imagine he would have much difficulty in finding a wife.”
“I did think it odd he would choose me when he had only met me once – in circumstances which could not possibly have endeared me to him. I suppose it must be the fortune; it is quite lowering to think that I am to be used to pay off his debts.”
“I would be surprised if that were the case. He is not mercenary although it is true that he is – or was at any rate – rather on his beam end. I own I did not know you were an heiress, indeed I never thought about such a possibility when I hoped to marry you – as you know.”
“No,” she agreed, sobering at once. “In any event, I don’t suppose I would have been if we’d run off in the teeth of Papa’s disapproval. My aunt, who did the same thing some years earlier, was disinherited.”
“There you are! I would have been good enough for your sister but not for you. Nothing less than an Earl would do for someone as pretty as you.”
“I don’t think that had much to do with it in the end. I don’t know what Papa planned to do with me for he never made the least push to introduce me to any likely gentlemen until he married my stepmama, when he suddenly became excessively eager to dispose of me. I daresay he would have accepted almost anyone by then.”
“Even me?” Archie put the question with what he no doubt intended to be an inflexion of amusemen
t but Letty, who was becoming more aware of other people’s feelings, noticed that his voice was a little high.
“Perhaps. But you didn’t think of it again, did you?”
“Didn’t ...? I have thought of little else for the past six years,” he exclaimed, stumbling over a stone.
Letty caught his arm. He was much taller and heavier than she and had already begun on a downward trajectory when she intervened. Failing to prevent him falling further by this means alone, she jumped in front of him so that her body was between him and the ground.
He ended up leaning so heavily upon her that she swayed.
“It’s all right, hold still!” she exhorted, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Oh, Letty!” he exclaimed, managing at last to control his position and finding himself in her arms.
“Archie!” she responded, still holding him, although now he was quite steady on his own feet.
“So where is this garden you wanted to show me?” he asked, pulling away from her.
“All around us. Shall we sit down over there and pretend we’re drinking tea?”
“Very well, my lady. Pray lead the way.”
“Take my arm, my lord,” she responded and led him across the uneven ground to a shattered column, near which lay the remains of what must once have been a fireplace because the bricks were much blackened.
They sat down, and she said, “I can’t think what’s keeping Thomas! I rang for tea full ten minutes ago.”
“I expect he has a long way to walk from the kitchen,” Archie said, obviously thinking of Oliphant, “and he is very old now.”
“I own I wish we could lay him off,” she observed, still in the high, carefully enunciated tone she had adopted. “The tea is always cold by the time it gets here.”
Letitia Or The Convalescent Heart Page 21