by Mary Nichols
‘Good Lord!’ she said, stopping in the act of removing her bonnet. ‘Aunt Agatha has arrived. Whatever she is doing here? She never leaves Yorkshire.’
‘There you are wrong, Lucilla,’ said a voice from the open drawing-room door. ‘It seems that you cannot even manage a simple come-out without me.’ The lady was undoubtedly addressing Lucy, but her gaze was with equal certainty raking Emma from head to toe.
She was a plump, well-corseted woman dressed in a deep plum and green striped spencer over a panniered gown in green bombazine. Outmoded it might have been but she carried it with aplomb, as if it were the rest of the world which was out of tune. Her hair, under its black lace cap, was still raven dark which Emma attributed to a bottle, and her face was surprisingly unlined.
Her eyes, small and dark, were sharply intelligent. Emma was sure they missed nothing. They were certainly appraising her simple jaconet gown and matching pelisse, her cottager hat, this time trimmed with silk daisies beneath the brim, and the frilled cotton parasol she still had in her hand. But her expression gave nothing away.
‘Hallo, Aunt.’ Lucy ran forward to plant a kiss on each of the lady’s cheeks. ‘We were not expecting you.’
‘Evidently not, for no one was at home when I arrived.’
‘I am sorry, Aunt. If you had only sent word…’
‘I did, but the letter must have gone astray. Can’t even trust the mail these days. No matter, I am here now.’ She turned from Lucy to look at Emma. ‘You, I assume, are the companion I have heard about?’
‘Oh, forgive me,’ Lucy said. ‘Aunt, may I present Miss Emma Woodhill? Emma, this is Mrs Standon, my Aunt Agatha.’
‘Good afternoon, ma’am.’ Emma bobbed a curtsy, wondering just what the good lady had heard about her. How could news of her have reached Yorkshire?
‘I have had my baggage taken up to my usual room and ordered tea and cakes,’ she said, turning back to Lucy. ‘Go and take off your bonnet and gloves and join me. We must have a long talk.’
‘Yes, Aunt.’ Lucy managed to turn and grin at Emma before starting up the stairs. Emma, anxious to be free of that penetrating stare, was glad to follow. She felt sure the lady had seen right through her and had come to relieve her of her duties as chaperon.
‘Both of you,’ she called after them, which only served to confirm Emma’s supposition. She had an unpleasant feeling she was in for a grilling beside which Dominic’s gentle probing would seem innocuous.
Within fifteen minutes of sitting down to tea, the good lady had learned everything there was to learn about what had been happening in town, not only the latest on dit, but about the announcement of Dominic’s engagement, which she already knew was imminent, and Sophie’s plans for their wedding, about every outing Lucy had been on, the balls she had attended, who else was there and whom she had danced with, right down to the reason why the room she called hers had been painted and refurnished.
‘Don’t like it above half,’ she said, pouring tea as if she were the hostess and not Lucy, who had not recovered from the shock of seeing her. As far as that young lady was concerned, it was the end of any pleasure she might have in the remainder of the Season. ‘That lilac and pink striped wallpaper is hideous, it makes me feel dizzy looking at it.’
Lucy gave Emma a conspiratorial wink. ‘It was Sophie’s doing, Aunt. She is going to refurbish the whole house in the French style.’
‘French, is it? Why, it is scarce a year since we defeated them. Now what must we do but ape them. It is downright unpatriotic. And so I shall tell Dominic when he deigns to put in an appearance.’
As if on cue, the young man himself appeared in the doorway and saved Lucy having to reply.
Chapter Seven
Having been informed by the butler, as soon as he came through the front door, that his aunt had arrived, Dominic did not exhibit the surprise that Lucy had. He greeted Mrs Standon warmly, kissing her hand and enquiring about her journey.
‘It was tedious in the extreme, hot and uncomfortable and the roads so parched, everything, horses, carriages, my clothes, were covered in dust,’ she said. ‘I would never have come, if it had not been absolutely necessary.’
‘Why did you find it necessary?’ he asked, taking a cup of tea from her and sitting back in his chair, his long, pantaloon-sheathed legs stretched out, apparently at ease. ‘Could you not have written instead? I would have been pleased to effect any commission you might have in town.’
‘Fustian! I needed to see for myself. It seems to me I haven’t arrived a moment too soon. Lucy has had her ball and as far as I can determine, nothing came of it at all. You should have made sure beforehand that the eligibles were all there, given them a push in the right direction, if they were dilatory. Offers of marriage don’t just happen, you know, they must be made to happen.’
‘I did have an offer,’ Lucy put in before her brother could answer. ‘More than one. I turned them down. I decided I did not wish to be married until…’ She caught sight of Emma’s pursed lips and added, ‘Until I found someone who loved me as I loved him.’
Emma became acutely aware of Dominic’s gaze on her and wondered if he had guessed the truth about Captain O’Connor. She looked down to study the pattern on her teacup, unable to meet his eyes.
‘You decided!’ Aunt Agatha exclaimed. ‘You decided! My goodness, I would never have dared to be so opinionated when I was your age. Dominic, you have spoiled her beyond redemption.’
Reluctantly he drew his gaze away from Emma. ‘I would not force her into a partnership with someone she took in aversion,’ he said, thinking of his own unhappy fate. ‘To be miserable for the remainder of one’s life because one has made the wrong choice in a husband is not something I would wish on anyone, certainly not my own sister.’
‘I said nothing of making a wrong choice, did I? On the contrary, that is precisely why young people should be guided in this, as in all other things. They do not have the experience to weigh up the advantages against the disadvantages and reach a proper conclusion. Now, tell me about these offers. If Lucy has rejected someone suitable, all is not lost. It is often wise to say no at first; it shows a proper restraint. If the young man is serious, he will not be put off by a first refusal.’
‘I am not such a tease, Aunt Agatha,’ Lucy said, looking at Emma for support. ‘When I said no, I meant it.’
‘Then you have put your brother to a great deal of expense for nothing. You might just as well have come to Yorkshire a year ago, as I suggested.’
‘I am not a pinch-commons, Aunt,’ Dominic said. ‘I do not begrudge Lucy her Season, whatever the outcome. And I would have thought her wanting in spirit if she had accepted Lord Billings.’
‘Billings! You mean George Billings, widowed last year, with three motherless children?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good God, Dominic, how could you have allowed him in the same room as your sister, let alone expect her to consider a proposal from him?’
‘I knew she would refuse him. It was simply a courtesy.’
‘And I’ll wager when word got out, it brought every rakeshame in town flocking to follow suit. Do you want the world to think you have no discernment at all and will allow anyone to address your sister? That is not the way to go on. No wonder the poor child is confused.’
‘I am not in the least confused, Aunt,’ Lucy said.
‘Then you should be.’
At which point, Emma was forced to scrabble in her reticule for a handkerchief to hide her laughter.
Mrs Standon lifted her quizzing glass from where it hung on her ample bosom and peered at Emma. ‘A trifle young for a duenna, are you not?’
‘Twenty-two, ma’am.’ Emma was finding it very difficult to keep a straight face, especially as Dominic was grinning at her behind his aunt’s back, almost daring her to stick up for herself.
‘Hmm. From India, I understand.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Emma had deduced that Dominic had written to his aunt abo
ut her and answered readily, but it appeared from his expression of surprise that he had not. He opened his mouth to say something and shut it again.
It was Aunt Agatha’s turn to smile. ‘Society has few secrets from me, you may depend upon it. Just because I do not come often to town, does not mean I am cloistered like a nun. You are from India and you are connected in some way with the Mountforests…’
‘Miss Woodhill was maid and companion to Miss Emma Mountforest,’ Dominic put in. ‘She furnished me with a very good reference.’
‘A piece of paper, no more. Did you check on it?’
Emma looked from Mrs Standon to Dominic and waited anxiously for his answer.
‘I didn’t need to. Goodness, Aunt, I am engaged to Sophie Mountforest…
‘And what would she know about it? I would question if she ever knew of the existence of a Miss Emma Mountforest before this. Mountforest has not mentioned his brother in over twenty-five years, not since he was banished to India over that dreadful business with the Earl of Grantham’s son. I doubt it even crossed his mind that Edward might have progeny, much less confide in his daughter.’
‘Oh, I smell a scandal,’ Lucy said. ‘Do tell, Aunt.’
Emma held her breath, waiting for more revelations. She dare not look at Dominic.
‘Arthur Boreham was the Earl of Grantham’s only son, a rakeshame if ever there was one,’ Mrs Standon told them. ‘He was shot during a youthful prank. Edward Mountforest was blamed and fled the country. It was a nine-day wonder, nothing more.’
Nothing more than a nine-day wonder, Emma thought bitterly, and yet it had branded her father a murderer, exiled forever from the land of his birth. Did no one care but her and Teddy?
’emma, did you not say Miss Mountforest had a brother?’ Lucy asked.
‘Yes, she did.’
‘Then he is surely Viscount Mountforest’s heir. Isn’t that right, Dominic?’
‘I suppose he is,’ he said slowly, as all the ramifications of that buzzed round in his brain and made him feel dizzy.
‘That is if the estate is entailed,’ his aunt put in. ‘Do you know if it is?’
‘No, I don’t,’ he said. ‘His lordship could have had it broken. I never heard an heir mentioned.’
‘If an heir were suddenly to appear, it would make a difference to Sophie’s dowry,’ Mrs Standon went on, almost as if she were thinking aloud. ‘Though it could be one of those estates which can be passed down the distaff side of the family.’
‘This is pure conjecture,’ he said. ‘I cannot believe that there is an heir or his lordship would surely know of it.’
Emma longed to shout, ‘Oh, yes, there is!’, but she held her tongue. Now was not the time to reveal it; it must not be done until they had all the facts about that shooting and their father’s name had been cleared. She did not want Teddy to be branded with the ignominy of that. He must be welcomed for the upstanding young man he was. They had been waiting for something to happen to help them uncover the truth and now, perhaps, with the arrival of Mrs Standon, it had, but oh, what would that do to Dominic?
‘Do you think Sophie knows?’ Lucy turned to Dominic, eyes shining. ‘Has she been keeping something from you?’
He did not want to think about that. ‘Of course not,’ he said.
‘Did you not mention to her that Miss Woodhill knew Miss Mountforest in India?’ his aunt asked him.
It was the first time Emma had ever seen Dominic looking even slightly discomfited, but he recovered quickly. ‘I had heard the story and came to the same conclusion as you did, that Sophie knew nothing of it. I did not want to upset her by quizzing her about it. After all, it is something that happened long ago and nothing to do with Miss Woodhill…’
‘Besides,’ Lucy put in gleefully, ‘he cannot speak to Sophie about it because he told her that Emma was a distant cousin and he had promised her dying father he would look after her.’
Mrs Standon looked slowly from one to the other, but instead of asking why, which Emma fully expected her to, she smiled. It changed her whole countenance and the rather forbidding matron revealed something of the young lady she had once been, a young lady with a twinkle in her eye and a capacity for mischief. It struck Emma that it was something Lucy had inherited, and perhaps Dominic too, which was why neither seemed to care a pin about convention.
‘Is that so?’ the lady said, raising one finely drawn eyebrow. ‘Then do you mind telling me just what Miss Woodhill’s relationship is to me?’
‘I said Miss Woodhill’s father was my father’s cousin,’ Dominic said, relieved to see the amusement in his aunt’s eyes, though that could be deceptive. There could be an explosion at any time.
‘Which makes him my cousin too, seeing I am your father’s sister. Do you expect me to consent to this tarradiddle?’
‘I had no idea you would be coming to town, Aunt. And I did not think it would do any harm.’
‘Hmph, we shall see what harm it will do.’ She subjected Emma to another long look, which made her squirm in her seat. ‘Do you not think people will consider it parsimonious in you to indulge your sister with all the latest mode in her dress and keep your cousin in that.’ She pointed at Emma’s made-over mauve sarcenet with distaste.
‘I think she looks charming,’ he said, giving Emma another grin. ‘Now, do you think we might talk of something else? We are embarrassing Miss Woodhill.’
‘If you wish, I will withdraw,’ Emma said, half-rising.
‘Sit down, Emma,’ Dominic said. ‘My aunt’s bark is a great deal worse than her bite, and she would no more think of talking of you in your absence than I would.’
If Mrs Standon noticed Dominic’s use of Emma’s Christian name, she made no comment. Instead she said, ‘I see I must make amends. From now on, I shall take both girls in hand. Tomorrow, we go shopping and after that, we shall go over your invitations and decide which to accept, and perhaps arrange a few entertainments of our own. Never let it be said that the Besthorpes do not know how to treat relations who have fallen on hard times…’
‘But, ma’am,’ Emma said. ‘I beg you not to go to the trouble and expense. It was only a little whisker, I have no wish to compound it…’
‘Fustian! If you are going to the trouble of telling a lie, then you should make sure it is a whopper. That way, no one dare refute it.’
Dominic burst into laughter, closely followed by Lucy. Emma looked from one to the other and then at their aunt, who was calmly sipping a second cup of tea, with a satisfied gleam in her eye. Emma knew with a certainty that set her knees knocking that Mrs Standon knew a great deal more than she was saying and that she was playing a game with them all.
Lucy was highly delighted that Emma was to share the remainder of the Season with her and entered into the spirit of what she chose to call Aunt Agatha’s jest with wholehearted enthusiasm. Emma was not allowed to protest or refuse as they went to fashionable dressmakers, hat shops and shoe shops. They bought spencers and pelisses, ribbons and lace, stockings and fans until Emma’s wardrobe rivalled Lucy’s. All of which were spread out for Dominic’s approval at the end of each expedition.
Emma was dreadfully concerned about the expense and even more worried when Aunt Agatha began planning soirées, musical evenings and picnics with the express purpose of finding a husband not only for Lucy but for Emma herself. She could see no way out of the coil she was in.
Perhaps marriage was the answer. Dominic whom she loved was out of her reach, so perhaps she should stop rebuffing every young man Aunt Agatha contrived to introduce her to and pay more attention to their good qualities, to weigh up the advantages and disadvantages as the good lady suggested.
But how could she say, when a young man brought himself to the point of proposing, ‘Oh, but my name is not Woodhill, it is Mountforest?’ Was a marriage under an assumed name legal? The question was purely hypothetical; no one measured up to the one she really wanted.
The same was true for Lucy. She had set
her heart on Captain O’Connor and though nothing was said, she steadfastly refused to consider anyone else, much to her aunt’s annoyance. Fergus had not yet left London because the Silken Maid had not returned from her last voyage. Emma knew the pair were secretly corresponding because the letters always came enclosed in an outer wrapper addressed to Miss Emma Woodhill, a deception which truly appalled her. In vain did she plead with Lucy to confide in her brother.
‘He is not an ogre, Lucy, he loves you. I am sure if he is angry, it will not be for long.’
‘You have never seen him really angry,’ Lucy said. ‘He will forbid all contact. And what harm can it do? As soon as Dominic’s ship comes in, Fergus will be gone and I shall only have his letters to remind me of him. You could not be so cruel as to tell Dominic of them.’
The brig was overdue and Dominic went every day to the docks in the hope of seeing it there, safely anchored, but every day he was disappointed. He had heard tales of storms and heavy seas round the Cape but told himself that the vessel was sturdy and watertight and Greenaway was an able and experienced captain, so what did a few weeks matter? It was not only the loss of the cargo which concerned him, though that would cause him no little monetary embarrassment, but the information he hoped the Captain was bringing with him.
It had begun with his curiosity about Emma Woodhill but that had faded with the knowledge that she was only waiting for Captain O’Connor to prove himself. If he had had any doubts about that, they had faded when regular letters arrived for her from the Captain. Until the Silken Maid returned and was sent on another voyage, Fergus O’Connor remained in town.
Now it was more a question of Miss Mountforest’s brother he needed to have confirmed, though it was hardly possible Emma had been mistaken over his existence. Ought he to mention it to the Viscount? If he did, it would look as if he were worried about the dowry which he certainly was not and, knowing his lordship’s uncertain temper, he did not relish the prospect of being roared at, especially if there was no foundation for his concern.