The Headstrong Ward

by Jane Ashford

  “Of course.”

  He nodded. “I must be off. I’m engaged to play billiards with Hargreaves at my club. I’ll be sure to sing the Branwell’s praises, though the words choke me.”

  “Thank you, Edward.”

  “I’d as lief shake her till her ears rattled!”

  “I know how you feel. After we overheard her, I wanted to scratch her eyes out, but Charles stopped me.”

  “Did he? Too bad. I should have enjoyed seeing that.”

  Anne laughed. “Wretch! You want me to disgrace myself before the ton?”

  “No.” He grinned. “But admit it, Anne, it would have been dashed satisfying!”

  “Immensely.”

  They laughed together, and Edward took his leave. When he was gone, Anne found that in spite of everything, she felt a bit better. But the question of Charles’s motives would not be dismissed. As soon as she was alone, it resurfaced to puzzle her again. Could it be that some of her remarks had actually had an effect on him? Was he becoming fonder of his family? And if he was, did that include her? This idea sent a thrill through her. Could it be true? “I mustn’t pin too much upon one incident,” she told herself sternly, and she jumped up to go and see if Charles had come home.

  Sixteen

  He had not. By the time she sat down to a luncheon of cold meat and fruit, Anne was entirely out of patience with him. How could he stay away so long at this crucial time? Mariah joined her in the dining room. This was unusual, as she generally ate nothing in the middle of the day, unless perhaps a bit of bread and cheese in her garden. But today she sat down at the table, and as soon as the servants had left them, leaned forward. “I believe I have thought of something that will help,” she said.

  “Help Bella, you mean? What?”

  Mariah looked resolute. “I will offer Bishop Branwell a cutting from my Oriental Sunset.” She folded her arms and sat back, awaiting reaction.

  “Your…?” replied Anne, uncomprehendingly.

  “Yes. It is a great sacrifice, but the cause is good. He hinted about it when I first met him. Of course, I shifted the subject at once, then.” She shook her head. “Very difficult it was. The man has no delicacy.”

  “But…ah…”

  “No, no, my dear, I am quite determined. You needn’t feel hesitant because it is such a great thing. I have thought it all over and am resigned. The offer alone should be enough to move the bishop to discipline his daughter. If he commands her, I daresay she will publicly retract the rumors.”

  “Mariah, I am sorry, I don’t know what your Oriental Sunset is. Is…is it a flower?”

  Mariah looked stunned.

  “I should know, of course,” continued Anne hurriedly. “Did you tell me? I have a shocking memory. I’m sure it is very beautiful, but, er, do you think…?”

  “Oriental Sunset,” pronounced Mariah in an awful voice, “is my rose!”

  Anne tried to look suitably impressed.

  “It is the rose I bred from two old strains, a wholly new type. It is the color of the evening sky at its most brilliant.”

  “It must be lovely.”

  “My dear Anne.” Mariah was overcome with emotion. “It is exquisite, matchless, perfect!”

  “Of course. I did not mean…”

  “Every horticulturist in the country has been after me for cuttings. I have given out two—two—in the last year. They are cherished and envied across England.”

  “I’m sorry,” repeated Anne. “I should have known.”

  “Well, I don’t believe I have mentioned it before,” conceded Mariah, calming somewhat. “But I assure you that Bishop Branwell knows.” She laughed shortly. “Yes indeed.”

  “I wonder, though, if giving it to him will really solve the problem. A public declaration from Lydia might simply cause more talk. And it would be unfortunate if you gave away your cutting for nothing.”

  “Unfortunate!” Mariah pondered this. “You think it will not serve?”

  “People are so stupid. I’m afraid such a dramatic reversal might make more of them believe the story. They would say that there must be something to it or we would not have gone to such lengths. Also, I do not like the idea of approaching the bishop. I don’t trust him.”

  “I see.” She sighed. “Well, I cannot pretend that I am not relieved. The thought of my rose in the hands of that…pruning lunatic was terrible. But I keep the offer open, in case you should think of a way it might be useful.”

  “That is very kind of you, Mariah.”

  “Bella Castleton’s a sweet gal.” They ate in silence for a while. “Say,” added Mariah then, “how about her mother?”

  “Mrs. Castleton?”

  “No, Mrs. Branwell. If you don’t like to go to the bishop—and I’d say you’re right about that—what about his wife? Someone might speak to her. I can, if it comes to that.”

  Anne frowned, pondering the idea. “I don’t believe she has any influence over her daughter,” she said slowly. “She is so meek and timid.”

  “Perhaps she is merely shy with strangers.”

  “No, it is something more than that. I don’t know, Mariah. I must think.”

  “Well, I am ready to try. You need only tell me.”

  “Thank you,” said Anne again. “You really are very good.”

  The other woman smiled, her gray eyes lighting. “Most people would say that I am, in fact, an extremely careless chaperone and a hopeless eccentric, dear.”

  Anne smiled back. “We have seen the stupidity of ‘most people.’”

  Mariah laughed aloud. “You are a fine girl, Anne. Watching over you has been much less burdensome than I expected. You must come to visit me in Devon; I will show you my garden.”

  “And give me a cutting from your rose?” inquired the girl mischievously.

  “No. You don’t care a whit for horticulture, and you don’t deserve one.”

  Anne laughed too. “True enough. But you are talking as if you will be leaving me soon.”

  “Oh, I shan’t go until all is settled.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mariah surveyed her, then shrugged, a twinkle lingering in her eye. “Never mind. I see I am premature.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I see that you don’t.” Mariah rose. “I must get back to my border. The lavender is doing worse and worse. What do you think about mirrors? Is reflected sunlight efficacious? I have never been required to find out.”

  “But, Mariah…”

  “I shall try, however. It cannot hurt. There are too many mirrors in the parlor, in any case.” She went out, muttering to herself.

  Anne remained in her chair, puzzled over her remarks. What, precisely, was to be “settled”? She could not imagine.

  It was here that Charles found her, frowning, elbows on the table on either side of her plate. She was so deep in thought that he had to speak before she noticed him. “You look pensive.”

  Anne jumped, startled. “Charles! At last!”

  He strolled into the room, putting his driving gloves on the dining table. He still wore his many-caped coat, and his blond hair was ruffled by the wind. He looked very handsome. “A gratifying reception,” he replied, smiling. “Fallow said you wished to see me at once. Is anything wrong?”

  “Only that I have had such a morning as I would not wish to repeat—first Laurence, then Bella, then Edward, and finally Mariah!”

  “Indeed? You have my sincere sympathy.”

  Taken aback, Anne looked at him. Then she started to laugh. “It was the subject of conversation that wearied me, not the people. Charles, you are the most complete hand.”

  He returned her smile. “Believe me, I should find that procession in itself too much. What did you talk about?”

  Anne’s smile faded. “Need you ask?”


  “The rumors?”

  “Yes. Bella has begun to hear them, too.” Quickly she told about him her talk with Arabella. “She is very unhappy.”

  “Poor girl.”

  “Charles, we must do something at once!”

  “Yes, it would be best to act soon. I have been thinking over the problem, and I believe I have an idea. There are difficulties, but…”

  “What is it?” cried Anne, bouncing in her chair with impatience.

  He smiled again. “You must let me explain at my own plodding pace. And I should like to be rid of my coat. Shall we go to the library? Are you finished eating?”

  “Yes, yes.” She rose, and they went upstairs, leaving the viscount’s things with Fallow. In the library, Anne plumped down in an armchair while Charles took another. “Tell me,” she demanded then.

  He leaned a little forward. “Our problem is complex. Indeed, we are faced with not one puzzle, but two—to stop the talk, and to end Laurence’s engagement. They are quite separate.”

  She nodded impatiently, eliciting another smile.

  “It seems to me also that the first is more pressing. Miss Castleton must be relieved of anxiety as soon as possible. If we cannot disentangle Laurence at the same time, then we cannot, though I hope one plan may accomplish both objectives.”

  “You are talking like a history book,” objected Anne. “Can’t you just tell me your idea?”

  “I am doing my best,” he answered wryly. “A history book!”

  “Well, plans of campaign, you know, and…what was the phrase, ‘parameters of action.’ Was it Richelieu who said that, or someone else? I’ve forgotten.”

  “I haven’t the faintest notion. And I am astonished that you have.”

  Anne made a face. “Oh, yes, I know that you think me ‘a hopeless student.’ Miss Millington showed me that letter you wrote to her.”

  “Betrayed,” exclaimed Charles. “Will all my past sins come back to haunt me?”

  “They will if you do not go on immediately!”

  Laughing, he held up his hands. “Very well. So, our first concern is to end the rumors. And that is not an easy task. There is nothing more persistent than gossip, yet it is at the same time elusive. No one ever knows where they heard a thing or what the basis was; they simply take up a scandalous story and pass it on, twisting it a bit in the process. I had a good deal of trouble thinking of a way we might stop that, but it seems to me that there are two steps to take. First, a sure way of destroying a rumor is to replace it with another. Stale gossip is the most despised commodity. No one wishes to be caught spreading an old story.”

  “You don’t mean we should start a rumor about Lydia Branwell?” asked Anne, surprised.

  “No, but we shall replace hers with our own, nevertheless, if we succeed.”

  “How?”

  “I’m coming to that. The second part of our attack is to get the story about Miss Castleton definitely retracted. Though the effect may be small, it must be clearly stated that it was a lie.”

  “But won’t that simply attract more attention to the matter? Edward and Mariah both suggested something like that, and I—”

  “It might,” interrupted Charles, “if it were done improperly. But I hope to manage both steps at once, in a way that will convince everyone the retraction is true.”

  “How?” said Anne again.

  “That is, of course, the difficulty. Here is my idea. Miss Branwell must be maneuvered into a position where she thinks she is safe, then confronted with her deed and made to admit she fabricated the whole. However, unbeknownst to her, there will be an audience to her admission. The resulting scandal will supplant the present one.”

  Anne pondered this, frowning. “But how will we get her in such a position? And even if we do, why should she confess?”

  “You have stated the obstacles succinctly. It will be simple to gather a small, carefully selected audience to spread the story of her perfidy. Leaving aside your first objection for a moment, I think she might be made to speak if you, and you alone, were present and goaded her. She seems to have a marked antipathy to you.” He smiled slightly.

  “I? Oh, Charles, I couldn’t. I would make a mull of it somehow!”

  “Nonsense. I have complete faith in your abilities.”

  “But what would I say? How would I get her to—”

  “These questions may be left until later. Our chief difficulty at the outset is setting the scene. How can we be sure Miss Branwell is where we want her to be at the proper time, when our audience is in place?”

  Anne was still distracted. “Perhaps Edward or Mariah could bring her.”

  “I don’t like to trust such a delicate mission to Edward. Mariah might do, but Miss Branwell is likely to refuse either of them. We need someone closer to her.”

  Uneasily considering her own projected role in this, Anne merely shook her head.

  “The problem of Laurence’s engagement may be solvable by this means as well,” Charles went on. “We can easily include Laurence in our audience, and what he hears will no doubt make him wish to break it off, but—”

  “He already does,” put in Anne.

  “What?”

  “Wish to break it off. He does wish to.”

  “He told you so?”

  “Not directly, but I could tell.”

  “Well, then, we need only persuade Miss Branwell, a daunting prospect.”

  “What if she thought Laurence responsible for our confrontation?” suggested Anne. “She might be angry enough to end the engagement.”

  Charles gazed at her in astonishment. “A splendid idea. It could very well work. You must give her the impression that Laurence is in on the plot, of course.”

  Anne nodded.

  “Then we must arrange for them to meet just afterward. That should not be too hard. Edward can manage it, I would think.”

  “Yes. But, Charles, I cannot believe I am the right person to face her. I’ll make a mistake. And anyway, I… I don’t want to. Couldn’t…?” She hesitated. She hated to ask anything of him when he was doing so much, but her part was so frightening. “Couldn’t you do it?”

  Charles did not recoil. “I would gladly, to spare you the unpleasantness,” he replied. “But I do not think it would answer. It will be difficult enough for you to get her to speak. You will have to rely on her temper to loosen her tongue. But she would take too much care with me, as the head of Laurence’s family. I’m certain I would fail.”

  Anne frowned and, after a moment, nodded slowly. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “I’m afraid you are the only logical person for the job. You have a talent for enraging Miss Branwell.”

  She smiled. “And others. I never thought to be grateful for it.”

  Looking into her eyes, he laughed. “So, what do you think of my plan?”

  “I like it. I think it has a strong chance of working.”

  “I am only concerned about ensuring Miss Branwell’s presence. She is a headstrong girl. And you say Laurence no longer worships at her feet. No doubt she is annoyed at all of us for that.”

  “Oh, lud!” exclaimed Anne. “I forgot Harry Hargreaves.”

  “Harry… Is he the young man you and Edward found?”

  “Yes, and he may be a nuisance now. Edward says he is always at the Branwells’, and I suppose Lydia likes that. He could spoil our whole scheme. Oh, why did we ever begin it?”

  “On the contrary, I think it very lucky you did. If Miss Branwell has another suitor on tap, she will be much more ready to break with Laurence. But we must take Mr. Hargreaves into our calculations by all means.” He grinned. “Perhaps we could leave him to Mariah?”

  Slowly Anne began to smile. “She could handle him, I daresay.”

  “I cannot imagine the young man she could not handl
e.”

  “Yes, that should do.”

  “So we are left with only the problem of maneuvering the lady. I wish we could be as certain of that.”

  Suddenly Anne had an idea. “Perhaps we can; perhaps there is something I can do about that.”

  “What?”

  “I won’t tell you until I try. It may very well come to nothing.”

  Charles eyed her a bit skeptically. “You are not thinking of the bishop, are you? Because I don’t…”

  “No. Not even with the inducement of Mariah’s rose.”

  “I beg pardon?”

  Absently Anne recounted Mariah’s offer. Charles lapsed into helpless laughter. “It was really very kind of her,” Anne finished.

  “Heroic. But it would not serve.”

  “So I told her. Oh, and Edward volunteered to kidnap the bishop and hold him to ransom.”

  The viscount’s laughter died. “I hope you dissuaded him.”

  “I did.”

  “But what do you mean to do?”

  “I am not so rash as Edward. You must trust me.” She looked over at him. “Do you?”

  He met her eyes, his own steady and clear. “Unreservedly.”

  Emboldened by his look, Anne added, “Why are you doing this, Charles?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Making such an effort to help Bella, inconveniencing yourself for a near-stranger?”

  “You are forgetting Laurence.”

  “No, I’m not. I am remembering what you said to me when I first decided to help him.”

  Lord Wrenley smiled wryly. “Ah, yes.”

  Anne leaned forward. “You like him better now, don’t you?”

  “You know, I believe I do. Edward, too.”

  “Oh, Charles!”

  “But that is not my only reason for joining this melee.” Their chairs were not far apart. He reached across and put a hand over hers where it rested on the chair arm. “We are getting on better than we once did, aren’t we, Anne?”

  Her throat suddenly tight, Anne swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Have you forgotten some of the…bitterness you once felt?” She started to reply, but he added, “You had a right, do not mistake me. I made some, er, unwise choices in my youth.”