by Carola Dunn
“Mr Everett is not a stranger—and don’t call me Gaby! The help he gave us in Dover was much more personal, and he has been most amiable ever since.”
“It was a deal too personal. I should never have allowed him to interfere.”
“You were in no shape to stop him, nor to help me yourself! Don’t be a nodcock, Gerard. It is perfectly unexceptionable to approach him in this.”
He shrugged sulkily. “Do as you will, then. You always do anyway. There’s no need to insult me. I’m going for a walk to clear my head.”
Trying to stifle her own doubts, Gabrielle dashed off a note and sent the footman to deliver it. Then she set about the unpleasant task of giving notice to the rest of the servants.
To her relief, they all took it philosophically—except Mrs Hodge, who wept into her apron even though she was not actually being dismissed. Gabrielle had to promise that if the cottage they found was big enough, the cook should be allowed to join them in their rural exile. It would be one more mouth to feed, but at least they would not have to find someone locally to come in and cook for them.
By the time Mr Everett arrived, she was feeling hot and harassed, and very uncertain whether she was doing the right thing.
“You sent for me, Miss Darcy?" he asked in a cool voice, as Roger ushered him into the drawing room.
She looked up at him appealingly. “Was my letter so abrupt? I did not mean to presume. I wrote in a hurry, but my intention was to request a visit at your earliest convenience.”
“Which is precisely what you said.” The quirk of his lips reassured her. “I gather I misinterpreted haste as effrontery. You see me here, anyway. What can I do for you?”
“Thank you for coming. However, if you jumped so easily to the conclusion that I was being discourteous, perhaps Gerard was right and I should not consult you. I am sorry to have troubled you for nothing, sir.”
“Oh no, you shall not get off so easily!” He sat down on a chair near her. “Gerard was certainly wrong, and it is essential that you consult me. About what?”
“I own I cannot think where else to turn.”
“You are unflattering! Am I a last resort, then?”
“Not at all. An only resort, for I do not yet know anyone else in London so well—except Madame Aurore, of course, and it is her problem as much as ours.”
“I am intrigued. Pray continue, Miss Darcy. I shall endeavour to give you good advice.”
"I don’t doubt it. You are expert at telling me what to do. However, it is practical assistance of which we stand in need, not mere advice.”
“I am at your service.”
Mr Everett was frowning now. Gabrielle hoped it was a frown of concern and not of irritation. She explained their suspicions of Sir Oswald.
"How sure are you that Lady Harrison is not simply spending more than she can account for?” asked Mr Everett. “It is all too easy to lose heavily at cards, for instance, with nothing to show for it.”
She shook her head. “Not Madame. She enjoys cards, but she always avoids parties where there is deep play. I know for a fact that she has turned down two invitations this week for that very reason. No, Gerard is sure she is being cheated. There must be something we can do?”
“Has her ladyship consulted the family lawyer?”
“Sir Oswald changed lawyers on his father’s death. Madame does not trust Mr Hubble any more than she trusts her stepson.”
“Sir Oswald was at the Foreign Office again this morning. I caught him looking through some papers on my desk. I cannot believe that Sir Cosmo’s son is spying for the French, but I’d like to know if there is a reason for his inquisitiveness. I’ll set a couple of my men onto it.”
“How useful it is to know a spymaster! I doubt you’ll find my other request so easily fulfilled. Can you tell me how to find a furnished cottage in the country to rent for the summer?”
“I’ve not the least idea. You intend to join the rest of the ton in the exodus from London?”
“We are driven to it, sir! Madame’s greatest expense is running this house, and we are not in a position to aid her at present.”
He looked at her sharply. She avoided his eyes.
“Gerard?” he asked. “I have seen enough of you to know that you are not drawing the bustle. Do not tell me that he is addicted to gambling already!"
“You are quick to lay all misfortunes to the evils of gambling, Mr Everett.”
“I have my reasons. Gerard has been playing deep, then. How bad are matters?”
“I cannot think that that concerns you. We should be perfectly all right if my father would only come! I take it you do not care to help us.”
He reached to take her hand. “Of course I care to help you, Gabrielle. You have not asked for a loan. Is that what you wish?”
“No!” She pulled her hand away. “Why do you persist in misunderstanding me? All I want is to know how to find cheap accommodations in the country!”
Her voice trembled on the edge of tears. He moved swiftly to sit beside her on the sofa, and put his arm around her shoulders in what he hoped was a brotherly fashion.
“We seem to be more than usually at odds this morning,” he said ruefully. “I’m sorry! Do not cry, I beg you.
“I’ve no intention of crying!” Gabrielle raised her chin and straightened her shoulders, leaving him with no excuse to continue his comforting gesture. He leaned back in the corner of the seat and regarded her with mixed regret and approval.
“That’s my girl! Never fear, I shall find you your cottage, if I have to send out every spy in the kingdom to search for it!”
She turned to look at him in surprise. “Surely you would not . . . Oh, now you are teasing me!” She smiled and shook her head. “I hope you have a more practical plan.”
“I believe I shall consult my stepmother. In fact, I had best go immediately to catch her before she goes out. Never fear, Miss Darcy, I shan’t let you be rolled up.” He stood and raised her hand to his lips.
“Thank you,” she said. “I never thought it would be so difficult to ask you, but I’m very glad I did.”
“My pleasure.” He bowed and departed.
* * * *
When Mr Everett reached home, Lady Cecilia had already departed to pay some morning calls. Miss Dorothea, announced the butler, was in the drawing room, having stayed home with, he understood, a slight headache.
The scene that met his eyes when he entered the drawing room brought a look of disapproval to his face. Dorrie sat on a small sofa, a book lying neglected in her lap. As close to her as he could be while sitting in a different chair, Alain de Vignard was talking quietly with her. Her eyes shone, her cheeks were delicately tinted with rose, but they paled as the door opened and she saw her brother.
Alain jumped to his feet.
“Mr Everett! I was just about to leave. Goodbye, Miss Everett.” He made a move to take her hand, quickly suppressed it, bowed hurriedly, and made his escape.
Mr Everett watched him cynically. Dorothea read his expression and said, “He was just leaving, Luke. He has to be at the general’s house at noon.”
“I need not tell you, I suppose, that it is highly improper for you to meet alone with a young man, especially one you are scarcely acquainted with.”
She smiled, with a faraway look. “Oh, no, I know Monsieur de Vignard very well. And besides,” she came back to earth, “we were not alone, for there is my maid.” She pointed at the window, and her brother saw that her maid was indeed sitting there sewing. It dawned on him that there had been no servant present during his recent interview with Miss Darcy. Of course, the circumstances were completely different, he decided.
“If you feel you know de Vignard well, you must have been living in his pocket for the last two weeks!” he countered. “Is your mother aware of it? I’ll wager she approves him no more than I do. He is a nobody, a secretary.”
“He makes no secret of it. You cannot say I should not know him, for I met him through you
r friends, the Darcys and Lady Harrison. And Mama has twice taken me to call on them. And what is more, Alain says he asked your permission to call here, and you gave it!”
“Your mother has taken you to visit Russell Square? Strange. I did not know she was on such terms with Lady Harrison.”
“She but passes the day with my lady. It is Miss Darcy she talks to. I like Miss Darcy. Are you in love with her?”
“Don’t be impertinent!”
Dorothea was crushed. “I’m sorry,” she said with trembling lips. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It is fortunate that you will be returning to Wrotham shortly. In the meantime, you are not to see de Vignard.”
She raised her chin in a gesture that reminded him of Gabrielle.
“I cannot help but do so, for he is received everywhere. I suppose you do not wish me to cut him, or to cease to go about?”
“That would cause comment. But do not let me see you again in his company. Indeed, Dorrie, it is bound to be talked of if he pays you such particular attentions.”
To his surprise she looked rebellious, but she did not retort and he was satisfied.
“Tell your mother I should like to see her at three o’clock.” he requested, “if she has no pressing engagements. I must go back to the office now.” He kissed her cheek, squeezed her hand, and was gone.
As he drove towards Downing Street, his sister’s question haunted him. Was he in love with Gabrielle? His feelings for her were nothing like the agony he had gone through at sixteen, when he had worshipped Cecilia and thought she could do no wrong—and then seen her marry his father. Gabrielle frequently irritated him. Her independent spirit made it impossible to know how she would act next.
On the other hand, her independence and courage had led to his receipt of important news from France. He was grateful for that, and having taken responsibility for her in Dover, he found it impossible to leave her now to sink or swim. If only her wretched father would turn up, he could hand over the responsibility and return to his former tranquil life.
Somehow the prospect was not enticing.
Chapter 10
“Shall I invite them to stay with us?” asked Lady Cecilia guardedly.
"Would you?” Her stepson’s face lit up, then fell again. “No, best not.”
“I must admit it would look most particular, and it would be bound to occasion comment, which I daresay you would not like.” There was a hint of a question in her tone. When he did not respond she went on, “Perhaps the Dower House?”
“Lord no! I cannot imagine Gab—Miss Darcy in such a gloomy setting.”
Lady Cecilia hid a smile. “Have you visited it since your grandmother died? I remember being taken to meet her there, and gloomy was indeed the word for it. She never had the shutters opened for fear the carpets would fade, and never had a fire lit in winter for fear the house would burn down. Not only gloomy but downright damp!”
“There you are then. It is quite unsuitable.”
“Not at all. It has been thoroughly heated and aired, and due to her care the carpets are in fine condition, as are the curtains and everything else. The furnishings are very old-fashioned of course. There is a great deal of velvet and heavy brocade. In fact, I had been thinking of redecorating but I do not know where to start. If Lady Harrison would give me some ideas it would be of the greatest assistance, for she has exquisite taste.”
“But it will be many years before you retire there!”
“I trust so. I was hoping that the time might come when you would like to live there, Luke.”
He jumped up and strode to the window, where he stood looking out at the tiny garden behind the house.
"I cannot afford to marry,” he said harshly, then turned and smiled at her apologetically. “But I will offer Miss Darcy the Dower House if you think it suitable. Thank you.”
“If she likes the idea, I shall write an invitation to Lady Harrison.”
Lady Cecilia thought back to the last conversation they had had, when he had denied ever having loved anyone but herself.
There were definitely signs of progress.
* * * *
On his way to Russell Square, Mr Everett was suddenly assailed by doubt. Gabrielle was looking to rent a cottage, and she had indignantly refused to borrow money. Would she consider the loan of the Dower House an insult? The last thing he wanted was to offend her.
Puzzling over the best way to present the invitation, he handed Lady Harrison’s butler his hat and gloves and asked Miss Darcy’s whereabouts.
“In Sir Cosmo’s study, sir. Miss is engaged. If you care to wait in the drawing room, sir, I’ll see if Miss can see you now.”
Mr Everett was suddenly aware of a loud, harsh voice, apparently raise I in anger, booming from the back of the house. He raised his eyebrows at the butler, who shrugged helplessly. His face grim, he hurried towards the sound.
The study door was open. Silhouetted against a window was a giant of a man. Tall, wide of girth, he bulged with knotted muscles beneath his grimy shirt of blue homespun. The panelled room seemed to vibrate from the roar of his fury.
Mr Everett stepped in and saw Gabrielle sitting stiffly at a desk, looking tiny in comparison with her adversary, as delicate and defenseless as his sister. However, her chin was raised in that familiar gesture and her eyes sparkled.
The colossus paused for breath.
"You are perfectly unreasonable, Mr Riddlecombe,” said Gabrielle quietly, her tone self-possessed. “I have offered you something on account, and the total will be paid on quarter day. I cannot do more.”
“Aye, I’ve ‘eard that tale afore, gorblimey if I hain’t. Quarter day comes and quarter day goes, and be damned if I sees a penny. You just fork out right here and now, young woman, or I'll ‘ave the bailiffs in the ‘ouse, quick as winking.”
Mr Everett moved forward and bowed to Gabrielle.
“My apologies for interrupting,” Miss Darcy. Perhaps I might be of assistance?” He turned and surveyed Mr Riddlecombe with disapproval. Streaks of black dust liberally adorned the huge man’s clothes and person. "You are a coal-heaver, fellow?”
“Merchant,” growled the other truculently, glaring down at him. “Riddlecombe and Sons of Wapping Wharf, and all I wants is what’s rightfully due!”
“Miss Darcy’s proposal seems eminently appropriate.”
His voice was calm, but something in his gaze made the coal-merchant shift uneasily and wipe his hands on his trousers. No change was visible in either hands or trousers.
“Werl, it’s like this, sir . . .”
“I suggest you accept what the lady has offered you. You have my word that the balance will be paid on quarter day.”
“Werl, if you says so, sir . ..” He extended a paw like a dinnerplate and Gabrielle gave him a banknote. He studied it suspiciously, folded it with care, and stuffed it into the nether regions of his shirt. “Quarter day, mind!” he said, touched his forelock sullenly in farewell, and tramped out.
“Thank you!” said Gabrielle with fervour, standing up and giving Mr Everett both her hands. “He had me quaking in my shoes until you intervened.”
“That is hard to believe. I thought you quite unperturbed.”
“Oh no, it was much more frightening than being chased by French soldiers, I assure you. He was so excessively large! But it never serves to show someone that you are afraid of them, does it? Though I daresay you have never been afraid of anyone in your life.”
“You are out there, Miss Darcy.” He led her to one of the leather-covered armchairs with which the study was furnished and took his seat in another. “I was used to be terrified of my paternal grandmother.”
“I never knew Papa’s mother,” she said wistfully. “And Grand’mère did not care for children.”
“You’d not have wanted to know the Dowager Baroness. I was taken to visit her sometimes, at the Dower House. She lived there for—oh, nearly twenty years, I suppose, and she grew quite eccentric towards t
he end. But the Dower House has been empty for many years now. My stepmother is planning to redecorate it, and she tells me she would greatly appreciate Lady Harrison’s advice. I gather her ladyship has superb taste. Should you mind giving up your cottage and spending the summer in the Dower House at Wrotham?”
“It is very kind of Lady Cecilia,” said Gabrielle slowly, “and how tactful of her to say she wants advice! Though it is true that Madame has exquisite taste. Just think how beautiful her drawing room is.”
“I never notice anything but you when I enter it.”
She smiled at him, slightly pink-cheeked. “Because Madame designs all my dresses, no doubt!” she said. “But tell me, is not the house rather large? It is useless if we exchange one expensive household for another.”
“Part of it is shut up,” he hastened to reassure her. “There is a couple living there, and a woman goes in regularly to clean. You would only need a personal maid. As for coal, surely you cannot use much during the summer!”
“As long as we do not buy it from Riddlecombe and Sons, I care not how much we use! Your offer is very tempting, sir, only I have a lowering feeling I ought not to accept.”
“Why?”
“It’s . . . I . . .” Gabrielle looked down at her hands as if her inspiration, then raised her eyes to his. “Was it Lady Cecilia’s idea to invite us?”
“Entirely. I asked her how to go about finding a cottage, nothing more.”
“How very kind she is! It sounds ideal. To tell the truth, I had some difficulty picturing Madame in a cottage, though she was no whit dismayed by the suggestion. But this will suit her much better.”
“Good. Lady Cecilia will write to her as soon as I tell her you accept. They go down to Kent on the fifth of July, I believe. I expect you will wish to travel with them.”
“You are staying in London all summer?”
“Unless Boney suddenly surrenders! But Wrotham is less than thirty miles from town. I daresay I shall visit my family from time to time. I go to Dover at least once a month, and it is not far out of my way. In fact, I must go next week, so I shall make sure that all is being readied for you.”