An Honest Deception

by Alicia Quigley

  “So do I,” said Isobel forthrightly, “but you do not find me urging you to marry a smothering sycophant with no sense! Goodness, Letitia, you cannot mean to go through with this.”

  “I do not love Dr. Wolfe--” ventured Letitia.

  “I should hope not!” interrupted Isobel.

  “But he will treat me kindly and will provide for James’ and Emily's futures,” continued Letitia. “That is very important to me.”

  “Have you gone mad, Letty?” asked Isobel. “He will kill you with his kindness! He will tell you exactly what to do each and every moment, until there is not a particle of personality left in you. If it is just the money that worries you, I will provide for James and Emily if you allow me to. There is no need to sell yourself to Dr. Wolfe.”

  “I cannot allow you to assume responsibility for my children,” said Isobel in a quavering voice. “You will have your own family to think of, after all.”

  “Pray do not be absurd! Francis is the heir to a dukedom. As if the Strancaster money will not be enough and more to give our children what they need!” exclaimed Isobel. “Besides, providing for Emily and James would be only a small charge on even my personal fortune. But if you are bound and determined to marry in order to protect your children, why in heaven’s name must you marry Mainwaring? Eynsford, despite the deception he practiced upon you, would be preferable to him!”

  Letitia turned away to hide the tears in her eyes. “Lord Eynsford was merely doing what he thought was right when he proposed to me, Isobel,” she said. “He has no real feeling for me and I do not care to be married to a man who might publicly humiliate me again.”

  “What nonsense is this?” asked Isobel. “Eynsford had no need to propose if he did not truly wish to marry you; his behavior was not widely known and your reputation was not harmed.”

  “He felt it to be his duty because of the situation he had placed me in,” said Letitia. “But now that I know he is planning to marry another, far more suitable young lady, and indeed has an agreeable liasion with a married woman as well, I should be very glad to have escaped as I did.”

  Isobel laughed. “Letty, I thought from your letter that you had some such ideas. Eynsford never courted Lord Ravenscroft's daughter and has no intention of marrying her. As for Lady Mowbry--while they undoubtedly shared a special connection some time ago, he has not seen her in many months and has no desire to. Who has been telling you these ridiculous stories?”

  Letitia’s downcast face told its own tale.

  “Oh, I can guess,” Isobel continued. “Doubtless your perfectly delightful cousin, who wishes you to marry Mainwaring for your own good.”

  Letitia looked at Isobel soberly. She felt a sudden easing of the tightness around her heart.

  “Oh, Isobel,” she said. “Are you sure?”

  “Eynsford was in Scotland with us,” said Isobel. “I think that if he was planning to be married soon or had some mistress about I would surely know. Letty, he is pining for you, I am absolutely positive of it.”

  A smile broke on Letitia's face, but then her spirits fell again. “I sent him away very firmly, Isobel. He cannot possibly wish to marry me now.”

  “Think you so?” asked Isobel. “Perhaps he would be the best person to consult. He came with us from Scotland.”

  Letitia instantly turned a bright pink. “Eynsford is here?” she said breathlessly.

  “He is at the inn,” said Isobel. “He did not feel it would be proper to come immediately to your rooms, but he hopes that you will agree to see him.”

  “But I am engaged to Mainwaring!” exclaimed Letitia.

  “That is easily enough remedied,” observed Isobel.

  “I am not sure that I should marry Lord Eynsford,” said Letitia. “I do not know him at all; I know only Mr. Markham, who does not truly exist.”

  “You do not have to agree to marry him now,” responded Isobel. “Perhaps it is time that you made his acquaintance. He only wishes to see you, after all. Surely there is no harm in that?”

  Chapter 38

  As Letty and Isobel conversed, the baron, the bishop and Lord Exencour were eyeing one another uneasily in the sitting room.

  “Did you have a pleasant journey?” inquired the bishop of Lord Exencour.

  Exencour raised his quizzing glass and surveyed Dr. Wolfe. “Very pleasant,” he said. “There is nothing I enjoy more than travel over dusty roads in the heat of the summer.”

  Bainstall snorted. “I appreciate your wife's concern for my cousin,” he said. “But there was no need for you and Lady Exencour to disturb yourselves. Letitia’s situation is now very comfortable and it is no longer necessary for you to be burdened with her concerns.”

  “I thank you for the thought,” said Exencour graciously. “However, I find that Lady Morgan is no charge upon me. I enjoy her company almost as much as my wife does and am happy to do her any service I am able to perform.”

  “What a pretty sentiment,” said Bainstall. “But I believe that her husband will now be able to do that for her.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Exencour, turning to the bishop with a smile. “I have not yet congratulated you on your engagement, Dr. Wolfe. A very eligible match you have made.”

  The bishop inflated his chest slightly and bowed to Lord Exencour. “I thank you, my lord. I flatter myself that Lady Morgan and I will deal well together. She is a good woman and will make a suitable mother to my little girls, as I hope to be a strong father to her poor children.”

  “Indeed?” said Francis. “I trust that you will succeed, and I admire your determination. As fond as I am of Lady Morgan, I would not care to take on the task you have set yourself.”

  A faint look of alarm crossed Dr. Wolfe's face. “Whatever do you mean by that, Lord Exencour?” he asked.

  “Um?” he responded absently. Still garbed in riding attire, Francis was inspecting his white-topped boots through his quizzing glass. “Tell me, Dr. Wolfe. Do you detect a hint of bagginess about the ankle?”

  The bishop glanced testily at Exencour's boots. “Of course not,” he said. “Now tell me what you meant by your comment about Lady Morgan.”

  “I am not entirely satisfied,” Francis murmured. He looked up to find Dr. Wolfe's anxious eye on him. “Oh, nothing at all,” he said airily. “She is a lovely woman and I am sure you will be able to curb her more fanciful tendencies. I myself am so indolent that I would be hard pressed to do so, but you seem to be a man of great energy.”

  Bainstall joined the conversation. “What is this nonsense, Exencour?” he asked sternly. “Letitia is a good girl.”

  “Oh, yes, the best in the world,” agreed Lord Exencour. “Have I not been saying how fond I am of her? Of course you, Bainstall, have seen little of her since she was a child and I believe you have only recently encountered her stubborn streak. But I daresay she will be much better for a new husband. That is always the way when ladies are in love.”

  Bainstall lapsed into silence, but Dr. Wolfe did not wish to let the subject go.

  “Surely you do not mean to imply that Lady Morgan is headstrong?” he inquired.

  “Oh, by no means!” exclaimed Exencour. “Lady Morgan has a very gentle disposition. Of course, at times, like all women, she needs to be handled with a delicate touch. A good supply of laudanum will be important to you, and you will wish to remind your housekeeper to keep it out of the view of the children, as the sight of it does not necessarily set a good example.”

  “Laudanum?” gasped the bishop.

  “It is important that a nervous lady like Lady Morgan get sufficient sleep, in order to retain her youthful looks,” observed Lord Exencour. “You would not deny her the efficacy of a good night’s rest, I believe. Of course, when she has been drinking champagne she sleeps very well and there is no need for laudanum.”

  Dr. Wolfe looked at Bainstall. “You did not mention this to me,” he complained.

  “I am unaware that Letitia drinks or takes laudanum,” said Bainstall.
“I daresay Exencour is mistaken.”

  “Oh, no doubt!” Francis exclaimed. “She was recently bereaved when she lived in my house, and her nerves were quite shattered. That no doubt explains her habits.” Dr. Wolfe and Bainstall looked only faintly relieved.

  “Although,” continued Exencour airily, “Isobel does say that her affection for champagne is of long standing. I am afraid my dear wife has had some concerns for her friend since she married Lord Morgan. His way of living was difficult for dear Lady Morgan to support and I fear she may have turned to the bottle for comfort.”

  He raised his quizzing glass and viewed the surprised faces in front of him with satisfaction. “Would Lady Morgan have some refreshments about?” he wondered aloud. “I would greatly enjoy a glass of sherry.”

  Bainstall cleared his throat. “These insinuations are very unattractive, sir. I beg that you will cease to impugn my cousin's good name.”

  “I? Impugn Lady Morgan's good name? My good fellow, I could not do that,” said Lord Exencour. “She is Isobel's dearest friend and as such, she is mine as well. Isobel relies on her quite entirely for her advice on clothing and matters of taste. One additional merit of this match is that she will again be able to dress in the manner suited to a lady of her station. Madame Celine will doubtless be delighted to see Lady Morgan in her shop again, as she displays her clothing to such advantage. In such a situation Madame Celine will doubtless supply her clothes at a reduced cost as well, which will be a savings for you, Dr. Wolfe. I daresay a ball gown costing two hundred pounds will be supplied to your wife for only one hundred.”

  “One hundred pounds?” faltered the bishop.

  “I see you are delighted,” said Lord Exencour. “I, too, am pleased when Lady Exencour brings home such a bargain. Indeed, when she has bought five or six gowns at two hundred pounds, Madame Celine will sometimes give her one at no cost, which you must agree is a great savings. Doubtless you will be happy to see your wife treated in the same way. Lady Morgan has exquisite taste, you know, and always chooses the most elegant attire.”

  At this moment the door opened and Letitia and Isobel re-entered the room. Letitia, who had been dressed previously in a plain gray gown, now wore a very fetching walking dress of lavender twilled silk made up high to the neck, but adorned with several rows of ribbons about the hem and trimmed in the most attractive way across the bosom and around the sleeves with knots of contrasting silver. Her cheeks were flushed with color and her eyes sparkled with pleasure. The bishop turned stricken eyes on his fiancée, but she did not have time to notice, for Isobel burst into speech.

  “We must beg your pardon, gentlemen, but we have to go out for some minutes. We shall not be long.”

  Exencour looked at them complacently, a faint smile on his lips.

  “Wherever are you going, Letitia?” asked Bainstall. “Need I remind you that your daughter is ill?”

  “Oh, but she is very much better and Violet is with her,” said Letitia. “We will be back directly.”

  “And where are you going?” persisted Bainstall.

  Letitia looked alarmed at the question, but Isobel handily supplied an answer. “Letty has seen a lovely bonnet which she thinks she must have to match this delightful dress I brought her,” she said brightly. “I have promised to give my opinion. Do not worry; we shall return shortly.”

  With that they were gone. Exencour turned back to the two gentlemen with a satisfied look on his face. “You see, gentlemen?” he said. “Lady Morgan is quite herself again. Her engagement to you seems to have returned her to her old spirits, Dr. Wolfe. I congratulate you.”

  Out in the street the two women collapsed into giggles.

  “Did you see my poor Exencour?” asked Isobel. “What a brave fellow he is to sit alone with those two sourpusses!”

  “Brave indeed,” agreed Letitia. “But then I must be a heroine, for over the past two weeks I have spent many hours with them. I vow I was near to dying of the megrims when you arrived. How could I have considered marrying Dr. Wolfe?”

  “We all do odd things when we feel abandoned, Letty,” said Isobel. “You must promise me that you will never again turn to Bainstall when you might turn to me. You could never be a burden.”

  Letitia hugged her friend, and then looked at her with anxious eyes. “I was quite certain I wished to see Eynsford, but now I am nervous,” she said. “Are you sure he wishes my presence?”

  “For Eynsford to be in Ramsgate at all he must be very anxious to see you,” said Isobel. “You can be quite certain that it is not a place he would visit except under great pressure.”

  Letitia laughed again. “I must say I find it hard to picture the gentleman I met at Lady Strancaster's ball in Ramsgate! However, I have no trouble seeing Mr. Markham here. That is the problem, Isobel. I find I cannot reconcile the two men easily.”

  “We will discuss it as we walk,” said Isobel. “The inn is close at hand and I will not allow you to run away now!” They turned their steps towards the center of town.

  “You must realize, Letty, that Lord Eynsford and Mr. Markham are not two different people, but only one,” continued Isobel. “I admit that I too remarked upon the difference between the private gentleman and the nonpareil when I first met him, but I understand now that he has been so courted and fawned upon by the ton that he feels quite annoyed by their attentions and presents a cold public front.”

  “It sounds as though he is dreadfully spoiled and rather selfish,” said Letitia. “One of the many things I liked about Mr. Markham was his lack of artifice--what a strange thing to say now, knowing the truth.”

  “When Eynsford is in the company of people he enjoys he is very relaxed and an extremely pleasant companion,” said Isobel. “Because of Mr. Markham, you have been lucky enough to know the real Eynsford, who is a delightful man. You have been in Society enough to know how annoying it can be to be fawned over.”

  “I do not believe I was ever fawned over,” said Letitia judiciously. “Perhaps I would like that.”

  “If you marry Eynsford and become a marchioness, you will be,” said Isobel with a laugh. “Only promise you will speak to poor Phillip with an open mind and I will be happy.”

  “I confess that he has been in my thoughts often,” said Letitia. “He was so solicitous during Emily's illness; his notes and presents were as thoughtful as were yours, and a great deal more helpful than Dr. Wolfe's!”

  They had reached the George, the charming seventeenth century inn at which the Exencours and Eynsford were staying. Isobel hustled Letitia into her private parlor.

  “Wait here and I shall fetch Eynsford,” she said. “He will be delighted. Promise me Letty, that you will not disappear while I am gone. This situation must be addressed now, or you will doubtless lose your nerve and marry that horrid bishop of yours.”

  “I am not so poor a creature as that,” retorted Letitia, but when Isobel had gone she felt a great wave of nervousness wash over her. Her knees felt unaccountably weak and she sank into one of the large overstuffed chairs that graced the room. Her mind returned to Kensington and the sun-filled days in the gardens with her handsome lawyer. Then she saw the cold and haughty face of the Marquess of Eynsford as he had appeared with the Regent at the Strancaster ball, and she felt a shiver. Who exactly was this man, and why had she allowed Isobel to persuade her to talk to him? Only a fool would put herself in the way of a man so intimidating.

  The door opened and Isobel stepped in, a merry smile on her face. She was followed by the marquess. He was dressed with great style and restraint, in a dark blue coat of superfine with pale beige pantaloons and Hessian boots bearing gold tassels. His neckcloth was impeccably tied in the mail coach knot, and he sported only a single gold fob at the waist. On his face, he wore a somewhat sheepish expression. This was perhaps fortunate, for it permitted Letitia to see something of Mr. Markham in him.

  “I see you are still here, Letty, and I am grateful,” said Isobel. “I have been lecturing poor Eyn
sford once again on the evils of his behavior towards you, so he is now in a suitably chastened frame of mind.”

  Letitia found herself quite unable to stand or say anything in response to Isobel's speech. The marquess came over and gravely raised her hand to his lips.

  “Thank you for affording me the opportunity of this interview,” he said soberly. “I know I do not deserve it.”

  Letitia made some vague murmuring sounds that Isobel seemed to interpret as being positive.

  “The two of you would, of course, like to be alone,” she said amiably. “It would not do at all for you to talk here in a private room, but there would be nothing amiss if you chose to stroll on the Promenade. I will await you here.”

  Chapter 39

  With remarkable efficiency Isobel ushered them out of the private parlor and into the street, where the marquess found himself looking at the top of Lady Morgan's bowed head.

  “Lady Exencour is nothing if not determined,” he observed. “I hope you do not mind walking with me?”

  “Not at all,” said Letitia, so softly that he had to lean towards her to catch her words. This is ridiculous, she thought. It is not as though this man is unknown to me. She raised her head and spoke more clearly. “It will be pleasant to enjoy the fresh air,” she continued. “I have not been out much of late.”

  “You must allow me to tell you how happy I am to hear of Miss Winwood's recovery,” said Phillip, offering his arm and strolling slowly towards the Strand. “I am sure her illness was very difficult for you.”

  “It was indeed,” said Letitia. “There were times I was terrified I would lose her. Your gifts of fruit and flowers were greatly appreciated, my lord,” she said.

  “I wish I could have done more,” said Phillip. “I felt quite useless when Isobel read me your letters.”

  “Knowing that you were concerned was a great help to us both,” she said. “Emily enjoyed the beautiful blooms so much, and the fruit from your pinery still more, even though she was frighteningly ill.”