The Beringer Heiress

by Jan Constant

  “Indeed, and may I inquire, Mr. Dunwoody, what you advise me to do with the money from the sale?”

  Thinking he had won, the lawyer settled back in his chair and, joining his short fingers together in an arch, contemplated them with satisfaction. “Invest, Miss Beringer, my advice would be to invest. I know of several firms which would be sound, paying good dividends.”

  Behind her, Emma heard Sir Julian move suddenly but spoke herself before he could interrupt. “I am sure you do, Mr. Dunwoody. And I am sure that they all pay a good commission,” she drawled, making the lawyer look up quickly, suspecting for the first time that his client might not be an empty-headed, easily malleable female, after all. “As I have told you, I intend to keep the house. Also, I wish to transfer my business to the firm which deals with Sir Julian’s estate. I am sure that you can take care of that for me. The firm is-?”

  She turned to Julian Leyton, who supplied the name. “Snodgrass and Brown. Good day to you, Mr. Dunwoody.” With a brisk nod of her head, she turned and sailed out of the door which Sir Julian hastened to open for her, leaving behind a shaken and shocked man of business.

  “Well done, Miss Beringer,” murmured Julian Leyton, catching up with her on the front door steps. “I am glad you were so decisive.”

  “The fellow is a charlatan—anyone could see that.” “Indeed, I agree with your estimate but was afraid that he would take you in.”

  “Pooh! He reminded me of an army supplier my papa dealt with. I had his measure before I was in the Peninsula a sixmonth. ” She suddenly gave him a brilliant smile. “I feel better,” she announced brightly. “Perhaps I shall like being an heiress after all. ”

  Sir Julian smiled encouragingly. ‘ ‘If you deal with all your problems in a like manner, you will have no trouble,” he commented.

  Emma cocked her head to one side and looked up at him. “You—did not interfere.”

  “No. Did you want me to? I rather thought you had no need of my protection. ”

  “I am glad that you allowed me to settle my own affairs.”

  ‘ ‘I had an idea that you would. ’ ’

  On an impulse, she gave him her hand and was surprised when, instead of shaking it as she had intended, he carried it to his mouth and touched the back of it to his lips. Emma’s heart fluttered pleasantly, and a delightful feeling of excitement coursed through her. Her gaze widened as Sir Julian smiled down into her eyes. For a moment they stood on the steps of the building oblivious to the interested stares of passersby, until suddenly recalled to their surroundings.

  “L-let us walk,” suggested Emma, and with a gesture Julian Leyton dismissed the waiting carriage.

  Tucking her fingers into his elbow and holding them there, he escorted her along the busy thoroughfare. A little self- conscious of their promenade, Emma was somewhat surprised to discover herself inordinately happy. Even Sir Julian seemed content to saunter along, pausing equably to gaze into shop windows whenever his companion chose.

  Suddenly a playbill stuck to a wall attracted her attention. The name Rourk sprang out as if printed in letters of flame. Emma was about to point it out to her companion but, recalling the circumstances of her last meeting with Sergeant Rourk and his company, decided not to bring the gaudily printed poster to Sir Julian’s attention. Instead, she read it surreptitiously as they walked by, hoping that his gaze would not be attracted.

  “A benefit performance, whatever is that?” asked Elvira when told the news.

  “It means that the money will go to the Rourks. I believe it must signify that they are retiring and hope to make enough from the benefit to keep them for a while. They are performing the ‘Sultan’s Slave.’ ”

  “The very play in which you took part!”

  “Yes. Oh, Elvira, I must see them. The sergeant was always so kind, and in Portsmouth, you know, he did his best to help me. Nothing will stop me—I intend to visit them at Sadler’s Wells Theater.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Precisely two weeks after her visit to Mr. Dunwoody, Emma received a letter from Sir Julian’s solicitors and found to her surprise that not only did she own Hodge Hall as expected but had also inherited a large amount of money, the estimated range of which quite took her breath away.

  “My goodness—you are worth knowing!” commented Elvira, who had retrieved the sheet of paper after it fell from her friend’s lifeless fingers and who had not scrupled to glance at the contents.

  “I feel quite ill,” murmured Emma faintly, tottering to a chair. “When I think of the economies my poor papa practiced to keep our heads above water—and now this! If only we had had a fraction of the amount, we’d have thought it riches indeed.”

  “You must admit that it is better than the dreary prospect of becoming a governess.”

  “Oh, I always intended to marry the handsome heir!” Emma assured her.

  “They are hard to find. Ju is the only one I know of—” Elvira broke off to eye her friend with a considering gaze.

  For a moment there was a taut silence before Emma went on, speaking quickly to hide her feelings. “How lucky he is, that you no longer have need of a governess. It would never do to have him in the claws of a grasping fortune hunter.”

  “N-o,” Elvira agreed slowly, “but now he has escaped 176

  the clutches of the paragon, he is free to choose where he will. . .

  “Indeed,” said Emma lightly. “Let us hope he makes a wise choice.” Desiring to change the subject, she sat up abruptly with a show of a dawning thought. “I know—I have several guineas still left in my purse, which I was endeavoring to make last until I heard from the lawyers. Now that I have, there is no longer need to be frugal. There is a hat in Bond Street that I have been coveting. Shall we go shopping, you and I?”

  Elvira agreed warmly as her friend had known she would, and shortly they set out, accompanied by Maria and Hetty. The hat was everything Emma had thought it to be: a beige concoction of silk and ostrich feathers, which sat on her head like a cloud of thistledown, sophisticated and flattering.

  “It was made for you, madam,” said the milliner, and Emma knew that she was right, buying it at once, only wishing that she could wear it and not have to wait until she was out of mourning.

  Turning to the other girl, she urged her to choose something for herself. “A present,” she said softly. “To show my affection, for you and Lady Beauvale have made me the happiest of girls.”

  Encouraged, Elvira chose a bonnet in her favorite pink, and together they decided upon a cap made of lace and silk flowers for Lady Beauvale. With that and scarves for Maria and Hetty, Emma’s purchases were complete, and they set off slowly homeward, lingering along the street to gaze into the windows and admire the merchandise on display.

  “Ladies—may I bid you good day?” said a voice, and, turning from their contemplation of the newest materials, they found themselves confronted by Lord Devern, bowing, hat in hand.

  “My lord,” they said, curtsying in unison.

  “May I walk with you?” he asked punctiliously, but ruined the effect by taking their consent for granted and falling

  in beside them as they continued on their way. “My condolences, Miss Beringer,” he continued. “I would have sent a card but felt that my contribution, even if acceptable, might well be lost beneath the amount you were bound to receive. There is no one so popular as an heiress.”

  “I am pleased to accept the sympathy of a friend,” said Emma quietly.

  Vivian Devern smiled down at her. “I am flattered,” he said. ‘ ‘While I hoped you would think of me so, I know there are circumstances which must make friendship difficult between us.”

  A sharp cry from behind made them all turn in time to see Maria, who had received a hearty nudge from a laughing Hetty, stumble, catch her foot in her hem, and fall sideward into the path of a wagoner’s dray. The heavy horse reared, neighing shrilly as the driver pulled on the reins in an endeavor to avoid the supine figure in the roadway. Lor
d Devern had presence of mind to plunge forward and seize the animal’s bridle, bringing him down to earth and away from Maria, but even so the wheel of the cart passed over her leg with a sickening jolt.

  Hetty’s laughter turned to shrieks, and Elvira gave a faint scream as Emma ran forward and, heedless of the danger, caught hold of her maid’s hands and dragged her from under the cart before the other wheel could follow the path of the first.

  Kneeling beside Maria, Emma bent forward to sooth the girl, murmuring comfortingly as her hands felt along her leg. The strange angle told her that it was broken, and at once years of experience returned to her aid.

  “Hetty! ’ ’ she said sharply. ‘ ‘Stop that noise at once. ’ ’ The girl bit off a shriek in midflow and sobbed loudly, watching the kneeling Emma. “Good girl,” Emma encouraged. “Go into that shop, and ask them for something long and firm— a broom handle would be ideal.”

  Elvira had crept nearer, regarding Maria with wide, shocked eyes, and Emma at once put her to use. ‘ ‘The scarves we bought—can you see the packet?”

  Elvira darted forward to retrieve it from the gutter and presented it to Emma, who smiled encouragingly as Lord Devern returned, having calmed the horse and assured the indignant driver that the accident had not been his fault.

  Hetty appeared with a broom, complete with bristly head, which Vivian Devern knocked off before handing it to Emma. Using the scarves, she bound Maria’s leg firmly to it, talking calmly and brightly all the while.

  “What a brave girl you are, Maria dear. Just one moment and you will be a great deal more comfortable—yes, I know it hurts, and you are bearing up like a Trojan. There now, is that not better? My lord, if you could procure a carriage, we could makeshift to carry her home.”

  “I have engaged the dray already—it is empty, and its length would make it ideal as I imagine the girl should lie straight.”

  Emma smiled her thanks but kept her attention on her patient, who had begun to shiver.

  “Would you be good enough to give me your coat?” she asked. “Maria needs to be kept warm, and we females have nothing of substance between us.”

  To his credit, Lord Devern hesitated only a moment before stripping off his blue superfine coat and wrapping it round Maria. His shirt sleeves and yellow waistcoat seemed very out of place in the middle of Bond Street, but as he supervised the invalid’s removal to the dray he gave every sign of being unaware of the strange appearance he cut.

  Emma climbed up beside the injured girl, cradling her in her arms against the worst of the shocks from the rutted road, while Lord Devern joined them, ready to support them both on the open-sided cart. Elvira scrambled up to sit with her legs dangling over the back, but Hetty swallowed her sobs long enough to declare that she would walk home as nothing would get her up on that contraption.

  Several excited small boys ran behind, eager to see the last of the incident, and the shopkeeper, who had supplied the broom, marched alongside, carrying his broom head, intent upon retrieving his handle when it was no longer needed.

  Lady Beauvale, who was just returning from shopping, met the ill-assorted procession on her doorstep and blanched visibly before, rising to the occasion, she pulled herself together and ordered the doctor to be sent for.

  Taking matters literally into his own hands, Vivian Devern carried Maria indoors, Frobisher supporting her legs. Under Emma’s guidance, they took her upstairs to the room she shared with the other maids and left her there in the care of Mrs. Hill, who surprised them all by showing a maternal side which no one had suspected.

  Feeling that Maria was in good hands and knowing the difficulties that Lord Devern’s entrance would cause, Emma left her there and followed him downstairs in time to hear him ask Frobisher if Lady Beauvale would see him.

  “Come and be my advocate,” he invited wryly as Emma descended the last few steps.

  “Of course,” she agreed readily, “but I doubt...”

  To her surprise the butler returned at that moment and, begging his lordship to follow, led the way to Lady Beau- vale’s sitting room.

  “Ah, Emma,” said Diana Beauvale calmly as they entered, “I am glad you felt able to leave the invalid.” She looked at Lord Devern and raised her eyebrows, saying coolly, “My Lord,” as he made a formal bow.

  “My apologies, Lady Beauvale, for making such an unauthorized entry.”

  For the first time in their acquaintance Emma could see that Vivian Devern was less than confident and felt called upon to ease the difficult moment.

  “Maria fell under a horse, Lady Beauvale, and Lord Devern was most brave and helpful,” she said simply. “We could not have managed without him.”

  “I only did what anyone would—”

  “Stopping a runaway is beyond the usual range of good manners.”

  He smiled at her but spoke to the other woman. “Miss Beringer does not mention her own place in all this. At one time I recall seeing her diving under the cart wheel to pull the injured girl free—without a care for her own safety, I would say. . . . However,” he turned to his hostess, speaking with an obvious effort and no attempt to hide the discomfort he was feeling, “I am pleased to have this opportunity of renewing our acquaintance, Lady Beauvale. I know that I behaved badly some years ago and have very much regretted it ever since.”

  “That, Lord Devern, is understandable, ” her ladyship told him severely, but seemed prepared to listen to him.

  ‘ ‘I was a callow youth at the time, ’ ’ he pointed out, almost diffidently. “And, while youth is no excuse in itself, I can only admit that I had not the upbringing a loving family would bestow. I snatched at what happiness I could.”

  Lady Beauvale’s look softened, and she extended her hand, saying quietly, “The past cannot be forgotten, Vivian, but time does ease the anger and disappointment. We can never return to our former relationship, but it is time our enmity was at an end.”

  “And Ju?”

  “Julian felt betrayed and is known to be singularly unforgiving. I speak only for myself, I am afraid.”

  “And—Eleanor?” Lord Devern spoke almost painfully and seemed suddenly intent upon a knot in the floorboards at his feet. “Is she happy?”

  Diana Beauvale seemed to hesitate before replying. “I believe so—the . . . episode spoiled the first years, but now, with a growing nursery and the parish work, she and Charles have reached something like peace.”

  “You should have let us be,” Vivian Devern said bitterly.

  “You both would have been ostracized. You, my lord, may not have cared, but Eleanor could not have born it.”

  ‘ ‘What of her now? Shut away in some country parson-

  * *

  age.

  “She is the respected wife of a loved vicar.” Lady Beau- vale spoke severely. “Love does not conquer all, Lord Devern, remember that. It is a very overrated commodity and very seldom lasts longer than a year or two. Kindness, liking, and respect are a better foundation, believe me.”

  He bowed and smiled. “I will bear it in mind,” he promised, with a return to his usual manner.

  Lady Beauvale nodded and smiled slightly in return. “I am glad we have had this little talk.”

  Accepting his dismissal, Vivian Devern stood up and bowed to both the ladies, acknowledging Emma’s presence for the first time in several minutes. “Your servant, ladies,” he said, and took his departure.

  “Well, Emma dear,” said the older woman when they were alone. “You had best hear the whole sorry tale, since you have heard so much.”

  “I have no wish to pry—”

  Diana Beauvale seemed not to hear, her expression far away as she recalled events which had taken place almost a decade ago. “Julian, Vivian, my daughter, and Charles Lindsey all grew up together. Charles and Eleanor had an understanding since quite an early age. He was a quiet boy destined for the church, like his father, and I knew he would make a good husband. Vivian left on a tour of the Continent, and while he was awa
y Charles and Eleanor were married, and I came to London to keep house for Julian. Upon his return, Vivian presented a glamorous, suave appearance, so different to poor Charles, who was now his father’s curate. . . . My Eleanor took leave of her senses, caring nothing for her husband or position. She and Lord Devern were the talk of the county, and finally they ran away together. You may imagine my feelings—I prevailed upon Julian to go after them and bring Eleanor back. Which he did. Of course things were not the same—Eleanor had lost Charles’s faith and her own happiness.”

  ‘‘Oh, how sad,” murmured Emma.

  Lady Beauvale again appeared not to hear her, going on reflectively, “The boys fought, of course. ... It is always so much worse when friends discover feet of clay, and Vivian seems since to have gone out of his way to demonstrate his indifference to Julian’s dislike.”

  “Perhaps that was because he cared,” suggested Emma thoughtfully.

  Diana Beauvale looked at her. “I’ve often wondered,’’ she admitted. “Maybe this accident is all for the best—though poor Maria will not think so. Things could never be comfortable between Eleanor and Charles and Lord Devern. . . . But it would be pleasant if I could acknowledge him in the street. He was such a charming little boy—I was very fond of him. . . .”

  Vivian Devern obviously agreed with her sentiments, for the next day a posy arrived for the injured Maria, accompanied by a delicate corsage for Lady Beauvale. Both recipients were pleased with the offering, Maria insisting upon it being placed beside her bed, and, while Diana Beauvale did not wear the spray, she touched the soft grayish foliage with a finger and smiled softly.