Estelle took a sharp intake of breath and a beatific smile invaded her face.
“That is Marianne!” she said, and burst into tears of relief.
Chapter Twelve
“Come.” Estelle dried her eyes. Endless possibilities regarding her sister’s situation tumbled through her brain. Anxious for answers, she gathered up her skirts and moved away from the stoop where they had concealed themselves. “We must go to Marianne at once.”
“Wait just one moment.” Alex placed a restraining hand on her arm.
“Why?”
“Whose house do you suppose that is?”
“What difference does it make?”
“Probably none. Humour me for a moment.”
Sighing with impatience, Estelle cast her eyes over the neat terraced house in question. It was arranged on three floors, with steps from the front garden leading to the basement, presumably housing the kitchens and servants’ quarters. The house itself looked to be in an excellent state of repair. The windows were sparkling clean, and recently scrubbed steps led to a front door painted bright red. It sported a gleaming knocker in the shape of an anchor. The small front garden, a riot of colour, was as meticulously cared for as the rest of the premises. Her eyes roamed over the adjoining properties. They were similarly well-kept residences, typically occupied by the middle-classes, exuding an air of prim gentility. Her chief emotion was one of relief that Marianne had not been compelled to live in squalor.
“It seems to be a respectable area,” she said when it became obvious that Alex was waiting for her to say something.
“Indeed, but does anything else strike you about the district?”
“Well, yes, now that you mention it.” She frowned, taking a moment to formulate her thoughts. “They do not appear to be the type of places that would offer lodgings to a young man of limited means.”
“Precisely. And so we must ask ourselves how someone in Porter’s position, who presumably does not have independent funds, could afford to live in such an establishment, much less maintain your sister in similar style.”
“Does it matter?” Estelle had had enough of this procrastination. “I wish to see my sister, Alex, not stand here debating the quality of her living arrangements.”
“Naturally.” He raised a brow at her incivility but did not remark upon it. “It was not my intention to frustrate you with idle speculations.”
“Well then, let us get to it.”
“Quite so. But before we do I was about to suggest that if Porter’s parents could afford to article him to a solicitor, then they are very likely respectable people. The sort of respectable people who might inhabit just such a property, perhaps?”
“And if you are correct about that, then Marianne is living there suitably chaperoned.” A slow smile of understanding spread across her features. As always his intuitiveness had taken her by surprise. She had been trying to convince herself she was not shocked at Marianne’s living with Mr. Porter before they were married, always assuming of course that they had not eloped to Gretna Green. But Estelle did not consider that to be likely. And so she’d told herself that as long as her sister was happy it really was of no consequence what unconventional living arrangements she had made. Indeed, after her own activities of the previous night, Estelle was hardly in a position to sit in judgment upon anyone else. But the relief she now felt at the prospect of having got that wrong made her realize just how fearful she had been for her headstrong sister’s reputation.
She turned towards Alex with a smile. “Thank you. That is a great comfort to me.”
Her feelings towards Alex had been oscillating wildly since the previous night. At first she thought she was sufficiently mature to accept what had happened between them. But when he had gone to such pains to tell her not to read anything into it, she had not only been deeply disappointed but angry and upset too. She wanted to lash out and hurt him as much as he had hurt her. But by anticipating her concerns about Marianne—when she herself did not even know they existed—he had thrown her into confusion once again, and she no longer knew what to think.
Only one thing was apparent. By his actions he had proved he was not all bad. She decided to let him know he was forgiven for his previous transgressions by treating him to her most gracious smile.
“God’s beard, Estelle!” Alex ground his teeth. “If you look at me like that again I swear I will not be responsible for my actions.” He took her hand, turned it over and applied his lips to the bare skin on the inside of her wrist, just above the cuff of her glove. “Come, let us go and make ourselves known to your sister before I forget myself completely.”
Still with her hand trapped in his, they crossed the street and Alex lifted the heavy brass knocker at number seventeen. Estelle watched it fall, heard the sound reverberating inside the house and wriggled with impatience. Her heart beat wildly as they waited for what seemed like an age before the door was opened by a uniformed maid.
“We are here to see your master,” said Alex authoritatively.
“Who shall I say is calling, sir?” The girl stepped back and allowed them into the vestibule, looking a little awed by Alex’s aristocratic bearing.
“I am Crawley.”
“If you would just—”
“Molly, who is it?”
Estelle, standing behind Alex, let out a gasp of delight. She stepped round him in time to observe Marianne tripping lightly down the stairs, a covered bowl in one hand.
“Marianne!”
“Estelle?” The bowl clattered to the floor. It bounced the rest of the way down the stairs, smashing on the floor of the hall, its contents spilling over the toes of Alex’s polished boots. “Estelle, is that you?” Marianne opened her eyes very wide, as though she did not quite believe what she was seeing. “Can it be possible that my prayers have been answered or am I simply dreaming again?”
“Yes, Marianne, it is me. I am come, my love.”
Marianne hurtled down the remaining stairs, her face shining with happiness. Seemingly unaware of the crockery crunching beneath her feet, she flew into her sister’s arms. Estelle hugged her close and when they eventually drew apart both of them had faces wet with tears.
“Oh, Estelle, how I have longed to see you. I knew how worried you would be about me. I wanted to write but Benjamin said—”
“Hush love, I am here now, that is all that matters.”
“But how did you find me?”
“I will tell you everything later.”
“And who is the gentlemen with you?” Marianne’s gaze was now fastened upon Alex.
“Lord Crawley, may I present my sister, Marianne Winthrop.”
“Lord Crawley?” Marianne dropped into a curtsey but her eyes were on her sister rather than the gentlemen in question.
“Indeed.” Alex bowed. “I had the pleasure of making Miss Winthrop’s acquaintance at Mrs. Cleethorpe’s wedding.”
“Marianne?” A door opened and Mr. Porter appeared. “What is going on?” He stopped in his tracks when he saw Estelle. “Oh, Mrs. Travis, you are here.” He coloured as he bowed, not only looking as confused as Marianne but exceedingly embarrassed too.
“Mr. Porter.” Estelle turned towards Alex. “Lord Crawley, may I make Mr. Porter known to you.”
Alex acknowledged Mr. Porter with a slight inclination of his head and subjected his person to prolonged scrutiny.
“I bid you welcome to my mother’s house, my lord.” Porter still appeared flummoxed by Alex’s presence but was regaining his composure with commendable speed. “And you too, Mrs. Travis, naturally.”
“Thank you.” Estelle spoke graciously, aware of his discomfort and intent upon putting him at his ease. Marianne was safe and obviously happy. After all Estelle’s fears for her welfare, she was too relieved to care about anything else.
“Marianne would have had you here long before now, Mrs. Travis, and it is merely my cautious nature that prevented her from writing to you.”
“I
see.”
“My father passed away last year but I promised him I would complete my articles with Nesbit, which I shall do in just a few months’ time. I will then be able to take full responsibility for all of my obligations,” he said with a significant glance at Marianne, “since I have been asked to remain with the firm.”
“Benjamin is doing splendid work. Mr. Nesbit relies on him excessively and is quite unable to manage without him. That is why he has offered to employ him when he is out of his articles.” Marianne spoke with pride in her voice.
“I am sure that must be so.” Estelle smiled. “Mr. Travis was not a trusting sort of man but even he could not find fault with Mr. Porter’s grasp of his business affairs.”
“Is your mother at home?” asked Alex. He received a reply in the negative.
“Come this way.” Marianne tugged at Estelle’s hand and led her towards the stairs. “I have another surprise for you. Molly,” she added over her shoulder, addressing the maid who had avidly been watching the entire scene unfold, “some tea for us on the top floor, if you please.”
“Where are we going?” Estelle tripped lightly up the stairs behind her sister.
“Shush, be patient!” As they reached the landing on the top floor, Marianne stopped outside a closed door. “He was awake just now.”
“Who was awake, darling?” asked Estelle. “Why are you speaking in riddles?”
“Because…” Marianne threw the door open with a theatrical flourish that was so typical of her that Estelle felt more tears spring to her eyes. Because they misted her vision it took her a moment to recognize the figure sitting up in a wide bed reading a book. He looked up with a smile on his lips; a smile that turned to disbelief when he espied her.
“Matthew!” Estelle hurtled herself towards her brother, who warded her off with a cautionary wave of his hand.
“Be careful, sis,” he said, laughing. “I am still so weak that a strong puff of wind could knock me out right now.”
“Whatever happened to you?” She bent to kiss his brow and frowned when she noticed how thin he was.
“Long story,” he said cheerfully. “But, by God, it’s devilish good to see you, Estelle. How are you? Sorry and all that about Travis.”
“Thank you.” She introduced Alex and they all sat down, Estelle holding Matthew’s hand in one of her own and Marianne’s in the other.
The maid appeared with a tray loaded with tea things and, leaving Marianne to pour, closed the door quietly behind her as she left.
“Well.” Estelle’s eyes roamed to first one sibling’s face and then the other’s. “Which of you will go first?”
“I will,” said Marianne. “Estelle, I am so sorry I could not tell you where I was and that it was necessary for Benjamin to answer your letter dishonestly. But, you see, we could not be sure—”
“You could not be sure that I was not writing on behalf of Papa.” Marianne’s eyes widened but Estelle spoke again before she could interrupt. “It is perfectly all right, darling. After the insensitive manner in which I behaved the last time we met, I can scarce blame you for doubting me.”
Marianne gaped in open astonishment. “So you do understand. I said she was sure to, did I not, Benjamin?”
“I should have trusted your judgment,” said Mr. Porter, “and saved you both a deal of heartache.”
“It is of no consequence.” Estelle smiled her reassurance at Mr. Porter and leaned across to kiss her sister. “You were not at fault, either of you, and I have long wished for this opportunity to beg your pardon. I should have lent you a more sympathetic ear when you came to me for advice, Marianne.”
“It is not your fault,” said Marianne kindly. “It is in your nature to be dutiful and you could not help yourself.”
“You came to pour your heart out and I refused to listen. No wonder you wanted nothing more to do with me.”
“Not one day has gone by without Marianne agonizing over you, wishing you were here, Mrs. Travis,” said Mr. Porter with transparent sincerity. “But I persuaded her that until she comes of age we could not risk it. If your father were to discover her whereabouts, well…we simply could not take that chance. If he were to find her here he would in all probability draw inappropriate conclusions, which could cost me my position at Nesbit’s.”
“Yes,” said Estelle, “I quite see the difficulty.”
“We did not know, when you wrote to me, whether you would feel duty bound to pass on any information I gave you to your father. And even if you did not, Marianne thought the servants very likely read your correspondence and might tell him.” Estelle nodded in understanding. “I did not want to mislead you but did not see what else could be done.”
He cleared his throat, colour heightening his complexion as he danced round the delicate subject of Marianne living beneath his roof. He was a very good-looking young man, his dark features the perfect foil for Marianne’s delicate blond beauty, and they made a striking couple. Estelle knew him to be serious-minded enough to counter Marianne’s capricious nature. She admired his diligent approach to his duties and his ambition to lend distinction to his chosen profession. It was also transparently obvious that he was wildly in love with Marianne, and she with him.
Mr. Porter ran his fingers round the inside of his high collar, looking acutely embarrassed. His eyes frequently darted towards Alex, who was doing his best to put him at his ease by pretending he was not there, but Mr. Porter obviously found his presence unnerving.
“Was there something you wished to say to Mrs. Travis?” he asked.
“Yes, indeed. You see, the thing is, Marianne not only worried about being forced into marriage but also feared for her safety, which is why she is here with me now.”
“What! That’s coming it a bit strong, Marianne,” said Estelle, shocked. “I know you did not care for the idea of marriage to Mr. Cowper but surely—”
“No, Estelle, just listen to what Benjamin has to say before you make up your mind about anything. You will understand so much better after you have heard him.”
“Her fears drove her here and I could not turn her away. No man of conscience could have done so, not if he knew what lay in wait for her if she was compelled to return home and when, well,” he said, colouring, “when the man in question loved the lady to distraction but never thought that love would be returned.”
Marianne beamed, her cheeks a becoming shade of pink. “How could you have been such a simpleton?”
“And so your mother took Marianne in and has acted as her chaperone ever since,” said Alex, recalling the pair’s attention to the delicate subject under debate.
“Quite so!” Mr. Porter flashed a brief smile of gratitude in Alex’s direction. “Nothing of an inappropriate nature has occurred beneath this roof—that is what I wished to make known to you, Mrs. Travis. I complete my articles in three-months’ time and Marianne comes of age a month after that. She has graciously consented to become my wife at that time,” he added, pride and love shining from his eyes, “and will then become the mistress of this house. My mother wishes to reside with her sister in Scarborough, which she intends to do as soon as we are wed.”
Estelle squeezed her sister’s hand. “You are happy, my love, that much is obvious, and I am very glad for you.”
“So you will not tell Papa?”
“Papa and I are no longer on speaking terms.”
“What!” cried Matthew and Marianne in unison.
“Why not?” added Matthew. “I would have wagered what few possessions I can still call my own that you were too dutiful to ever defy him.”
“That used to be the case but he has pushed me too far this time.” She smiled at her brother. “Everyone has their limits, you know, even me.” Briefly she outlined all that had happened since Mr. Travis’s death. She told them of Susanna’s intervention and gave an abbreviated account of her sojourn as an unemployed governess beneath Alex’s roof.
“So he now wants you to marry Cowper,” said Ma
tthew. “My God, the man has not a scruple in his body.”
“It does not altogether surprise me,” Marianne said. “Cowper always preferred you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It was the main reason why I ran away. Not that I would ever have married Cowper, of course. Benjamin and I had decided that for propriety’s sake I ought to pretend to go along with the scheme, but find reasons for the wedding not to take place until I came of age. Naturally, that was the point at which Benjamin would arrive on a white charger and spirit me away in the nick of time.”
“What happened to change that plan?” asked Alex, when the betrothed couple lost themselves in one another’s eyes and forget about the explanation which was being dragged from them with frustrating slowness.
“I overheard a conversation between Papa and Mr. Cowper.” Marianne pulled a disagreeable face. “Well, to be honest, I did not actually overhear but suspected they were up to something and listened at the door to Papa’s library.”
“And what were they talking about?” asked Estelle.
“They were discussing me,” Marianne said. “Cowper was complaining about my lack of docility. He thought it unreasonable that I would not even permit him to touch me, much less kiss me, and said how he would so much prefer to marry you. It seems you are much prettier, more compliant and know your place. Papa was going out of his way to placate him. I thought that rather odd because Papa seldom takes the trouble to be agreeable to anyone. He said marriages did not last forever, especially when the gentleman involved was older than his wife and fond of dangerous sports.”
“My God!” Estelle’s hand flew to her mouth. “Are you suggesting that they were actually plotting to kill Mr. Travis?”
A Reason to Rebel Page 14