As he handed her to her seat, he bowed stiffly, his countenance remaining impassive, saying, "I offer my felicitations and wish you well, Jenny-whatever course you choose to take"
"And I you," she replied with equal indifference, drawing her hand disdainfully from his clasp.
He bowed once more. Then, turning on his heel, he was gone.
Flora, witnessing the whole, heaved a sigh of frustration and was heard to mutter something unintelligible beneath her breath, but her meaning was obvious.
Defiantly, Jennifer turned away saying, "I must go in search of Arthur. Surely it is time to leave."
"Forswear, 'tis the talk of society," Rutledge informed Jennifer as they walked in Kensington Gardens a few days later. "It appears that the `unfortunate' widow most certainly enjoys Sinclair's protection. He's forever dancing attention on her, and if Danson is to be believed, he pays her debts. Now tell me their association is above suspicion!"
"I will not qualify your remarks with an answer," replied Jennifer, quickening her step. "You obviously know so little of the situation that you rely on the scandalmongers for information. It's not at all what you think!"
"Are you so sure of that, my dear?" He sneered. "It does not take a great brain to see what my lord is at. Lady Stratton must be at her most vulnerable at the moment, and he turns it to his benefit. She is, as you have already observed, extremely beautiful. Sinclair would be a fool not to take advantage of the situation."
"Then a fool he undoubtedly is, for I don't believe him capable of such cavalier intentions."
"Why, 'tis you who are the fool, my dear Jenny," he scoffed. "Sinclair's no saint. He would act as any other man in the situation."
Jennifer halted and stood before him, studying his face with a slight frown clouding her brow. "Over the past few weeks I have oft thought how stupid you can be, Phillip," she said thoughtfully, "but never so much as now. You should not use your own moral code as a yardstick against which to judge others' principles."
Rutledge's countenance darkened with anger. Bowing briefly and uttering no word of farewell, he strode away, leaving Jennifer to watch his disappearing figure with some feeling of satisfaction.
Aware that she must now make her way home alone, she struck out determinedly, acknowledging acquaintances as she went but never stopping, realizing it must appear strange that she should be unaccompanied. Once having left the confines of the gardens, however, she found that her feet took her in the opposite direction than one would have supposed if she had desired to return to her home, and after a short while she found herself entering Edgemont Square.
It was a pleasant part of town, the houses offering gracious living on three floors. As she crossed the square, she was obliged to hold back to allow a horse and rider to pass, and it was with some astonishment that she recognized Sinclair. He, however, was oblivious to her presence and instead rode to a house at the far side of the square. Dismounting, he gave his horse into the care of a young boy and, tossing him a coin, instructed him to await his return.
She watched, fascinated, as he mounted the steps to the house, seeing the door opened as if his arrival had been anticipated. He entered unchallenged, as though he was a familiar visitor-indeed, one who had the right to be there.
Even after he'd disappeared inside and the door had been closed against curious eyes, she stood as if mesmerized, as if the power of movement had been denied her. Thoughts came, which she hastily put aside. Memories of Rutledge's words rose to torment her, and she leaned against the boundary wall of an adjoining property for support.
She wasn't sure how long she stood there, but eventually the earl emerged once more from the house, and she was aware that a shadowy figure stood at one of the windows, fluttering a hand in farewell. Bowing briefly in reply, Sinclair retrieved his horse from the boy and, mounting, rode in the opposite direction.
His leaving acted as a release, and she moved away, forsaking the square and making her way homeward.
"Pray tell me, dear sister, just how many suitors do you think you will find it necessary to reject before you finally decide to marry?" snapped Hawley to Jennifer over supper that evening. "Rutledge has stated his intention of returning to Buxton on the morrow if he does not hear anything to the contrary from me this evening."
She regarded him mulishly and replied, "He may return to Buxton or anywhere else he has a mind to."
"I thought you had a fondness for him. Why now this indifference?"
"Any fondness I ever had for him was purely as a friend and was soon put to flight when we became reacquainted. He's not at all the man I remember from our earlier years. Indeed, he has changed beyond recognition."
"'Tis you who have changed, Jennifer, ever since this damned betrothal to Sinclair, and even that you saw fit to end. I am completely at a loss as to know what ails you"
"Nothing ails me, Arthur. I just have no desire to be married."
"You would remain a spinster?" he asked incredulously.
"Most certainly. If it's your fear that I will prevent your marriage, then Freddie and I will set up our own establishment. We will deal perfectly well together."
"Think of what society would say," scoffed Hawley.
"Then I will inform them that I was not welcome in my own home and found it necessary to leave."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"I most certainly would; though why I should have such a desire to remain here when you make my situation untenable, I know not. Perhaps I would fare much better on my own"
"Must we continually wrangle over the situation?" he replied, throwing his napkin onto the table. "I am thoroughly out of patience with you. Once you are of age, you may set up an establishment with Freddie. I will not stand in your way. Until then, however, you will live by my dictates."
"Which are?"
"I am well aware I can't force you into marriage, but I do believe I am within my rights to most forcefully recommend that you consider it."
"And the alternative is ... T'
"Enough!" he cried, rising. "I will not have you dictate to me in this fashion, but beware my antipathy. You will not always find me so generous. You will not think yourself so fortunate when I find it necessary to shorten your purse strings. Remember, I have their control until you are one and twenty."
"That, for your control," she said, snapping her fingers. "I remain `under your control' for less than fifteen months"
"No matter for what length of time, it will seem an eternity, my dear," he scoffed, leaving the room.
Sitting alone at the dining table, Jennifer's thoughts, as they had so many times since her return earlier in the day, turned once more to her visit to Edgemont Square. Sinclair had appeared so much at ease when he visited the house and, from his reception, appeared a regular visitor. She attempted to analyze her feelings, should he form a lasting attachment to the owner of the house, but the thought was too painful to contemplate. She realized now that, although she was not prepared to admit it, her affections had been engaged upon Sinclair's return from Spain, and she called to mind with great fondness their journey to Derbyshire. She dwelt on their conversations and the little attentions he had bestowed upon her. She felt a sense of security in his presence and knew she could never feel as comfortable with anyone else.
She sat thus employed until a butler gave a gentle cough behind her chair to remind her of his presence and the necessity to clear the table after the evening meal. Rising, she cast him a small, apologetic smile and retired to her apartment, not to seek repose, but to sit dejectedly in her sitting room while the embers died in the hearth.
If she could have, she would have retracted her refusal of Sinclair's offer, but it had not been possible. Since the existence of a portrait, which he continually carried with him, had become known, she feared the offer would never be repeated. Indeed, with the appearance of Lady Stratton, all hopes had died. But the calling to mind of what might have been still proved too painful to bear.
I swear there
are signs of a match there," declared Mrs. Fitzroy, when Flora paid her promised visit a few days later. "At first I thought he still held hopes of Jennifer, but I appear quite wrong"
"There are no signs whatsoever of a match," scoffed Flora. "Indeed, Lady Stratton is still in mourning, so it is unkind of you to even suggest such a thing."
"Ah, but she will not be in mourning forever, my dear, and it's seen that he wastes no opportunity to accompany her. It's rumored that he settles her debts. Now tell me, why should he, if he holds no hopes of marriage?"
"It was a promise he made to her late husband when it was known that the poor man would not survive. There had evolved a great friendship between them during Wellington's campaigns, and Edward feels it to be his responsibility that she is well cared for. He could do naught else in the situation."
"You may say what you like, my dear, but I vow, there still appears something between them. One has only to see them together."
"Then I swear you know not what you see," snapped Flora, her patience sorely tried. "My dear Edward has more sensibility than to press his suit at such a time. Indeed, I believe his affections to be engaged elsewhere."
"You don't mean ... ?"
"You may put what interpretation you wish on my words, for I know that you will, no matter what I say, but I deem he deserves whatever happiness he can grasp"
"But of course, my dear," replied Mrs. Fitzroy enthusiastically. "I agree wholeheartedly with you. Nothing would please me more than to see him happily settled."
The object of their conversation was at that moment taking afternoon tea with Estelle in Edgemont Square after a fraught day dealing with his man of business, who had just left.
"I believe today's dealings bring to a close all claims on James' estate," said the earl. "There remains but matters of little consequence to bring about a full conclusion of his affairs. You should now be able to return to some form of normality."
"I'm relieved to hear you say so," said Estelle earnestly. "I can't continue to trespass on your good nature, Edward. No matter what promises were extracted, you have your own life to lead, and I cannot become your pensioner. I must find some way of generating an income and supporting myself."
"And exactly what do you propose, my dear?" replied the earl, laying aside his cup and sitting forward in his seat. "Just how do you envisage bringing about this income, for I assure you, it's not at all necessary. If you would prefer, I will settle an amount upon which you may draw whenever necessary, and when that expires, you need only apply for more. If you find it distasteful to deal with me directly, you may make your application through my solicitor. Would that suit you better?"
She came quickly to her feet. "Now I've offended you," she cried, contrition sounding in her voice. "My dear Edward, it was not my intention-truly it was not."
He, too, rose and, crossing the distance between them, laid a comforting arm about her shoulders. "It has been a difficult day, my dear," he said quietly. "I welcome your dependency. It allows me to repay the many kindnesses you've done me. Indeed, whatever service I've rendered is no more than my conscience would allow, and it's my most fervent wish that you become reconciled to it. How else am Ito prove my gratitude?"
At that moment they became aware of a commotion in the hallway and turned toward the door as it was opened abruptly.
The footman announced Randall, who entered the room with quickened step, his countenance extremely solemn.
"What's to do now?" asked the earl sharply. "What's so urgent that you need seek me out?"
"'Tis a matter regarding Master Peregrine, my lord," replied Randall, halting as he became aware of Estelle. "It would perhaps be more prudent if I spoke to you alone, sir."
"He's injured?" asked Sinclair sharply.
"Not in the least sir. It's an entirely different matter."
The earl appeared relieved and sank once more into his chair and grimaced ruefully. "No matter what the young numbskull has been at now, you may speak quite freely. Nothing he does will surprise me. He seems determined to run the full gamut of foolish deeds, so speak up. I am prepared for the worst"
"He's been sent down, sir."
"Again!" groaned Sinclair. "Will the boy never learn? What fool-brained scheme has he been at now? I'll wager its naught but a prank."
Randall stood very erect before his employer. "He's accused of theft, sir, and has been sent down pending investigation, with the threat of expulsion."
"What?" the earl expostulated, coming erect from his seat. "There's not a more honest soul on God's earth than Perry. I swear he's no thief. What's he supposed to have stolen? Who accuses him?"
"A fellow pupil," said Randall, proceeding with caution, not wishing to enrage his employer. "The boy says Master Peregrine stole a valuable saber his father brought back from the campaigns."
"What use would Perry have for a saber?" scoffed Sinclair. "Indeed, if he's in need of such a weapon, he could willingly have mine."
"The young master is quite distraught, and Croft came to me saying I should fetch you, sir. He's at a loss as to what to do with him."
"I will come immediately. These accusations must be redressed. The boy must be at his wit's end."
Estelle came forward, clutching at the earl's sleeve. "If I may offer my support," she said quietly. "If you will allow, Edward, I will come with you"
"My carriage will collect you within the hour," said the earl, already on his way to the door.
The rain came in torrents, gushing from roof and piping alike as Perry watched from the shelter of a stall at the rear of the stable yard as the earl's chaise was drawn across the flooded cobbles of the yard to the coach house and the horses hurriedly taken to the stables. Caesar sat dolefully at his young master's side, unaware of the disquiet coursing through his breast, knowing only the need to comfort him by his presence.
Having great faith in his brother's ability to set all to rights, Perry's first instinct had been to run and lay all at Sinclair's feet. However, the thought of the disgrace he felt he'd brought to bear held him back. For the first time in his life he felt a reluctance to face Sinclair and instead drew farther into the stable and hid in the shadows.
"Where's the boy?" demanded the earl of Croft as soon as he and Estelle entered the hall.
"Master Perry went out some while since, sir," answered Croft. "If he's any sense, he's probably sheltering from the rain somewhere"
"It grows quite dark. Send someone out to search for him," ordered Sinclair. "I will not have him abroad in these conditions."
"Aye, my lord." Croft bowed, preparing to leave, but then as an afterthought added, "Is the lady to stay, sir?"
"Yes, have Rose prepare a chamber for her and serve her supper in the small salon. I will eat later, when I've spoken to Perry."
Seeing that the earl was much concerned and not wishing to intrude, Estelle made her excuses and repaired to the drawing room to await Rose's attentions. She could see that now was not the time to be raising questions and instead contented herself with the thought that her presence alone would lend Sinclair support.
The earl retreated to the library to pace its confines, pausing only to pour himself a glass of claret. Knowing only too well the vagaries of youth that could drive Perry to foolishness, he liked not the idea that he should have left the house when in a state of agitation. Putting his glass aside, he finally came to rest in the large chair behind the desk, his concern increasing with every minute of Perry's absence.
Seeing the servants come to the stables with lanterns held aloft and his name being called, Perry realized that he could remain hidden no longer. Deeming it time he faced his brother, he stepped out into the yard, claiming he'd been but sheltering from the downpour. He followed the servants with lagging steps, ignoring Caesar, who kept pace beside his young master, his eyes blinking with every drop of rain that fell on his faithful head.
"There's a letter, sir," said Perry stiffly, handing it to his brother, who remained seated at his d
esk.
The earl broke the seal and spread the sheet before him, drawing the lamp closer to give more light.
"What does it say?" asked Perry nervously.
"They request that I withdraw you from the college to save any unavoidable unpleasantness."
"Oh," was Perry's monosyllabic reply as he confined his gaze to the floor.
Sinclair leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. "I don't want you to say anything until I've finished speaking," he said in a level voice. "Then you must tell me the truth. I will not be angry if only you tell me the truth"
"I didn't do it, Ned," interpolated Perry hotly, taking a step forward. "I truly didn't. You must believe me"
"I never doubted you for one moment," Sinclair assured him, "but you understand that I must ask. There's also another matter. You promised me that if you got into further trouble, you would come to me first. Why didn't you? Are you frightened of me?"
"Never!" cried Perry. "It's just that .." And his voice faltered.
" `Just that ...'?" prompted the earl.
"It was the shame that I could have been thought to have acted as a thief. I couldn't bear for you, even for one moment, to think me guilty."
"You may be assured on that score. There's no need to convince me of your innocence," said the earl, rising to pour two glasses of claret and to press one into Perry's unsteady hand. "You tell me you did not take the weapon, and I believe you"
Resuming his seat, he indicated that Perry should take the chair opposite the desk. "How did they arrive at the conclusion that you were the thief?" he asked. "What caused them to lay the blame at your door?"
"I was seen outside Compton's rooms and subsequently gaining entrance, though I swear to you I had his permission. I went to collect some books. I didn't even see the saber. I only knew of its existence because Compton had been brandishing it in the library a few days earlier."
"Who was the witness? Who accuses you?"
"Compton's roommate, Jameson"
"If that be the case, why didn't he intervene and prevent the theft?"
The Portrait Page 14