A Noble Pair of Brothers (The Underwood Mysteries Book 1)

by Suzanne Downes

  Mr. Underwood had, by now, succeeded in bringing their errant steed under control and felt confident enough to take his brother’s place and speak at the same time, “Mother, I have not the slightest doubt that you will live far longer than either Gil or myself, so you may take that pathetic expression off your face and stop trying to blackmail us into matrimony.”

  “I don’t know how I managed to raise two such rude and disrespectful boys,” she answered crossly.

  “Mother, you know perfectly well that you raised ‘par nobile fratum’.”

  Gil laughed, “That’s very good, Chuffy! A noble pair of brothers. How very apt.”

  “It is not at all apt,” countered Mrs. Underwood, “You are an ungrateful pair of wretches, and I don’t know why I travelled all these miles merely to be insulted.”

  The vicar cast a wicked glance in his brother’s direction and confided, “Be patient Mother, and comfort yourself with the thought that you may not be so very far from attaining your heart’s desire.”

  Mrs. Underwood brightened visibly, “My dearest Gil, do not tell me you have found yourself a girl?”

  “Not I,” said the vicar smugly, and had the satisfaction of seeing her for once entirely bereft of the power of speech. Her mouth dropped open in a most unladylike fashion and it was several seconds before she was able to say, “Chuffy? Chuffy has a girl? I simply cannot believe it. Who is she? When shall I meet her?”

  Underwood was glaring at his brother in a way which boded ill for the time they should find themselves alone, “Don’t, pray, get yourself into too much of a spin, Mama. The young lady concerned has given no indication that she would welcome my suit – nor, may I add, has her father.”

  “Not welcome your suit?” Mrs. Underwood was clearly highly offended that there should be any doubt at all her son was not a fit husband for the highest lady in the land, “If the young woman is too foolish…”

  “Now, now, calm yourself. There is no need to fly into a pet! I merely meant that I have yet to ask for her hand. There are reasons aplenty for my reticence, I do assure you.”

  “What reasons, my dear one? You really must not let what has gone before ruin your life any longer.”

  There was an awkward silence at this, albeit veiled, mention of Underwood’s past, until the gentleman forced a serene smile to his lips, “I am not, Mama, I promise you. That was not the reason to which I referred. The problem is with the child herself.”

  “Is she not strong? Does she suffer from some progressive disease? Is there madness in her family history?”

  “No more than there is in ours,” muttered Underwood testily, then added aloud, “If you would cease to interrupt, I could explain the matter.” He was clearly losing patience and his mother therefore tried valiantly to hold back the flood of questions which sprang to her lips.

  “There is nothing wrong with her health. She is lovely, vivacious and in rude health – she is also, however, extremely young and I hesitate to ask her to tie herself to a man so much her senior.”

  His mother snorted in contemptuous dismissal of his qualms, “Great Heavens, Chuffy! Is that all? God bless my soul, what does age matter, you silly boy?”

  Underwood remained impassive. He was not reassured and could not prevent a sardonic note entering his voice as he asked, “Do you not think a man has a responsibility to ensure the future happiness of his bride by at least endeavouring to survive the wedding by perhaps a few years?”

  “Now, you are being pessimistic in the extreme, Chuffy! There is no possible reason for you to imagine you will not live to a great age and enjoy the best of health for years to come.”

  “Father didn’t,” said Underwood shortly.

  “Your papa died of a fever caught whilst he was on his travels in the orient. It seems to me you are just trying to find excuses not to ask the girl.”

  Gil heartily concurred with his mother’s opinion, but had so far not had the courage to voice his views, so it was with an extremely unkind grin that he greeted this remark. Underwood saw it, and with great dignity he returned his attention back to the pony, which he clicked impatiently into action, “When – and if! – I feel the time is right, I shall make my proposal. Until then I’ll thank you both not to meddle in my affairs.”

  Mother and younger son exchanged a glance, but wisely refrained from further comment.

  *

  Mrs. Underwood had almost as great a talent for faux pas as her elder son and the next occasion when she succeeded in causing everyone severe embarrassment was on the following Friday evening, at the dinner party held by the good doctor and his wife.

  With the vicar’s almost fanatical preoccupation with punctuality, they were the first to arrive and were comfortably ensconced when the rest of the guests made their appearance.

  Hearing voices he recognized in the hall, the vicar leant towards his mother and confided in a whisper, “Chuffy’s intended has just entered the house, Mama. Prepare yourself to meet your probable future daughter-in-law.”

  Charlotte swept into the room. Looking extremely decorative in a white gown, with an over-dress of gauze sewn all over with tiny pearls, behind her came Jane, Emma and Eliza. Verity Chapell brought up the rear, looking, for the first time in weeks, something like her old, cheerful self. Her eyes, when they came to rest upon Mr. Underwood, shone with a brilliance which lent her plain face an unaccustomed beauty.

  Mrs. Underwood, catching the look and seeing a young woman who quite obviously adored her son, immediately rose to her feet and crossed the room before anyone could perform introductions, “My dear! How pleased I am to meet you at last, and how wicked of Underwood to hide you from me.”

  Verity blushed to the roots of her hair, but could see no other option but to accept the salutation bestowed upon her. Gil, as always, sprang swiftly to the rescue,

  “Allow me to present Miss Chapell to you, Mother. As you know she is quite the best pupil Underwood has ever taught. And these are the daughters of Sir Henry Wynter, Miss Charlotte, Miss Jane and Miss Eliza.”

  Wisely Mrs. Underwood gave no indication that she had made any error, but immediately kissed Charlotte quite as warmly as she had Verity, then took the hands of each of the other sisters in turn.

  Underwood stood by the piano as though carved in marble, attempting to greet no one at all. He was mortified by his mother’s clumsiness, but fortunately his rather churlish reaction was observed only by Ellen Herbert, who quickly distracted the attention of the gathering by offering glasses of sherry and Ratafia, and by drawing Verity and Charlotte to the piano and begging them to play and sing respectively. When all the company were settled into chairs and engrossed in the entertainment, Underwood took the opportunity to slip out into the hall, closely followed by Ellen,

  “You are not thinking of leaving, Mr. Underwood?” she asked quietly, thus arresting his proposed flight. He turned and forced a smile to his stiff lips, “Not if you particularly wish me to remain,” he said with great formality.

  “Of course I do,” she assured him warmly, “And what is more, I require you to put that silly incident out of your mind. Charlotte is far too overdressed for the occasion and it is scarcely surprising that your mother thought her … well…”

  Thunder rolled ominously and a flash of lightning lit the hall to sudden brilliance, making Underwood’s face look white and strained.

  “My mother thought her far above my touch – and she is undoubtedly right,” he said, finishing a sentence which had hung painfully in the air between them.

  “That was not what I intended to say,” denied Ellen gently, but not particularly convincingly, “Besides, what does it matter what anyone else thinks? It is how you and Charlotte feel which is the only important thing.”

  “And how does Charlotte feel, I wonder?”

  “Only she can answer that question, Mr. Underwood. Shall I ask her to join you in the study?”

  He looked at her without answering, or even appearing to have heard her speak
. She experienced the strangest sensation when she looked into his eyes. In the novels she had read, she had often seen the expression ‘her heart was wrung’ and until this moment it had seemed over dramatic and inane, but the pity she felt for Underwood when she saw the years of misery and loneliness etched upon his features created an almost physical pain in her breast. She found herself promising to wreak violent retribution upon Charlotte should she give this man cause for yet more agony. When at last he broke the silence, it was not the reply she had been expecting, “Not just now, Ellen. I would rather talk to you for a few moments, if you could bear to neglect your guests for a while…”

  For one horrid moment she panicked, imagining he was about to make an embarrassing admission to her, then just as swiftly she dismissed the thought. He was quite obviously in love with Charlotte and anything her wanted to say to her would reflect that fact.

  “Of course,” she said, her voice bearing an added warmth to make up for the unworthy thought she had so briefly entertained.

  There was a fire in the doctor’s study, but it had dropped low in the grate. She was glad of an excuse to turn away from him, and busied herself with the poker, hoping to stir a little life into the embers. Thunder crashed again, seemingly directly over the house, making her start violently, “Good heavens! The weather has turned with a vengeance, hasn’t it?”

  The first odd drops rattled against the casement and Mr. Underwood turned his head towards the sound, “I suppose we should not complain,” he said calmly, relieved that she had taken the strain out of their being together alone, “The weather over the last weeks has been remarkably warm for May. I had been led to believe that I faced constant rainfall once I travelled northward.”

  “We have an entirely unwarranted reputation for inclement weather, Mr. Underwood. I hope you are going to speak up on our behalf when you return to Cambridge.”

  He turned back towards her, “I may not be returning to Cambridge. That is one of the things I wished to discuss with you.”

  “I see,” she gestured towards a chair, seating herself at the same time, “What will you do if you don’t go back? Despite your complaints about their behaviour, I rather thought you harboured a strong affection for your ‘boys’,” she smiled and was pleased to see that he had recovered himself enough to return it.

  “Oh, I think I could get used to living without them – in fact, I would have to, if I was to marry. Wives are rather frowned upon in college – altogether too distracting.”

  “I could imagine a wife like Charlotte being very distracting indeed,” asserted Ellen, somewhat stunned by the sudden mental image she had created. Dear God! Charlotte Wynter alone amongst hundreds of unattached men and boys! Not something to be foisted on the long-suffering Mr. Underwood, to be sure.

  “Upon reflection, I suspect it is probably a very wise ruling,” agreed Underwood wryly, “But, as you must see, if poses a considerable problem for me. Is marriage worth the sacrifice of my career?”

  Ellen, who adored her husband, had no doubt, “A happy marriage certainly is.”

  “But if I am wrong? If my marriage is not destined to be happy?”

  “You are asking for certainties, Mr. Underwood,” she protested hotly, “No one can possibly assure you of happiness. If you are not prepared to take a risk, then no, I do not think you love Charlotte enough to make a lasting marriage. You would be forever harking back, blaming her for lost opportunities. If you have any doubts at all, then you should not even consider asking her to be your wife. I can envision no worse misery for her than to be tied to a man who could not trust her with his heart.”

  Underwood looked slightly shocked at her vehemence, but was still unconvinced, “She is very young, Ellen. Do you think she fully appreciates the damage she could inflict upon that heart? I’m too old to withstand the anguish engendered by a fickle wife.”

  Ellen softened as she looked into his eyes, “Oh my dear Mr. Underwood, yet again you are asking for sureties. Believe me, I do understand your reluctance, but if you love Charlotte, you must trust her.”

  He rose to his feet and began to pace about the room in agitation, “Great Heavens above! What do I know of love? But for an all too brief engagement years ago, I have spent my life away from the company of women. I don’t even have a sister or a female cousin. My only experience of love was the agony of loss! All I know of Charlotte is that she forced me to look into eyes which were filled with adoration for me and in doing so turned a heart of stone back into a living, beating organ. Would you call that love?”

  “It sounds remarkably like it,” answered Ellen gently, “Wait here and I will send Charlotte to you.”

  With that she was gone. Underwood walked across to the window and stared out into the rain-lashed darkness. The storm had moved away now, and the occasional flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder were growing distant.

  When he heard the door open he turned and saw Charlotte framed in the doorway. The pearls on her dress shimmered as she walked towards him, creating an aura of light around her and reflecting the radiance in her eyes as she looked at him. There was a strange constriction in his throat and he had to swallow deeply before he could speak, “I’m sorry I missed your singing.”

  She smiled shyly, “I’m not. I was so nervous of your mama, I made a terrible mess of it.”

  “I doubt that – and you really have no need to worry about my mother. She is a very sweet person when you know her, and not in the least frightening.”

  As they had been speaking, they had been moving, almost unconsciously, towards each other, and now they met almost in the centre of the room. He took her hand and raised it to his lips; “It would seem that I have several apologies to make. Do you mind if I get them over with?”

  She gave a nervous little laugh, “I can’t imagine what they are, but please do continue, if it will make you happy.”

  “No man is ever happy to apologize, my dear, they prefer to think they are always right.” Her heart gave an excited skip as his slow smile reached his eyes, “To begin with I was uncivil enough to neglect to greet you when you arrived, then I was careless enough to allow my mother to embarrass you. Both unforgivable sins, but I hope you can bring yourself to overlook my transgressions?”

  The colour crept into her cheeks and she lowered her eyes in divine confusion,

  “Pray don’t … think any more about it. I understood completely. Naturally your mama must think I’m altogether too young and silly to make a fit companion for you. Verity is so much cleverer than I, you are bound to have more in common with her than with me.”

  “Charlotte…”

  She raised tragic eyes to his, “No, please let me finish. There is something I have to say to you. I know I was childish and sulky and stupidly jealous the other day, but I have had time to consider everything and what happened tonight convinced me of the truth. I must have embarrassed you horribly by throwing myself at your head. I should have known you were only being kind and indulgent to a silly girl. Even your mama can see that Verity is the wife for you…”

  Before she had spoken, he had still not been entirely sure what he was about to say to her, but this new maturity in her demeanour, the unexpected modesty, settled any qualms he might still be experiencing.

  “Are you refusing to marry me?” he asked, with mock gravity.

  Her blush grew deeper, “How can I? You have not asked me.”

  His eyes seemed very dark and deep as she looked up into them and she wondered how she could ever have imagined grey eyes were cold and insipid. His were like smoky embers burning into her flesh; “I’m asking you now.”

  Before she could answer he leaned forward and laid his lips gently against hers. She needed no further encouragement and with a joyous cry she flung her arms about his neck and returned the kiss with unladylike enthusiasm. Once his initial shock had subsided, he found himself laughing and grasping her waist, pulling her closer against him. For a few precious moments they kissed and clung,
discovering the delight of each other, then the door opened and Ellen glanced into the room. Guiltily the lovers sprang apart, hovering between confusion at the interruption and relief that it was only their hostess who had seen the embrace.

  Her smile was wide and delighted as she announced, “Forgive the intrusion, but we are all waiting dinner on you both.”

  Hand in hand they left the study, and still hand in hand they entered the dining room. One look at their faces left no one present in any doubt that all was settled between them and they were greeted with a chorus of congratulations and felicitations.

  Mrs. Underwood was the first to rise and kiss them both, and Verity Chapell was the second.

  *

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  (“Dura lex sed lex” - The law is hard, but it is the law)

  Mr. Underwood was not normally a man much influenced by convention, but he could not help but feel that in view of the extreme youth of his prospective bride, he had committed the ultimate solecism in asking for her hand before having sought the permission of her father.

  In an effort to correct that failure, he decided that Sir Henry must be visited before another day passed. Accordingly he rose early next morning and would have been on his way to Wynter Court ere the case clock in the vicarage hall had struck nine, had not his brother stopped him by gently pointing out that Sir Henry was invariably a late riser, unless he was attending a meet, which, to the best of the vicar’s understanding, he was not on that particular day. Neither brother was knowledgeable enough in hunting lore to realize that it was out of season.

  Underwood had to suppress his impatience until a much more reasonable hour, which did not do anything at all for his tightly strung nerves. It was not an interview to which he was looking forward, and he had hoped to have it over and done with as soon as possible.