by Ann Barker
Her son agreed. He had been obliged to endure more than one tiresome half-hour with Jacklyn whilst his mother had sat with her friend upstairs. The other man had pronounced upon farming methods in a very self-important manner. His opinions had been so misguided and his ponderous advice as to what Thurlby should do with his acres so ill-judged that it had taken every ounce of the earl’s self-control not to speak in a most unbecoming way to one who had been his mother’s host.
‘I hope you will not feel obliged to invite him to the wedding,’ he said.
‘The wedding?’ said his mother, wrinkling her brow. ‘But that will be up to Miss Tasker and Mr Ames, surely.’
‘Not that wedding; mine,’ he said.
His mother’s surprise and excitement were all that he could have hoped for. ‘Yours! Victor! My dear! But who?’ A look of horror crept across her face. ‘Not Isobel Macclesfield?’ she ventured. He shook his head. Her expression turned to one of delight. ‘It’s Lavinia!’
‘You’ve guessed it,’ he answered with a smile. ‘You’re pleased, then.’
‘My dear boy, I couldn’t be happier,’ the countess answered, leaning forward to grasp his hand. ‘I always thought that you were very well suited, but …’ She paused.
‘But?’
‘Forgive me, but when I left for Clarice’s house, it seemed to me that things were decidedly chilly between you.’
‘Yes, they were,’ he replied. It was his turn to pause. ‘I did not tell you before, as I did not want to add to your anxieties, but she and Isobel Macclesfield travelled up from London on the stage,’ he said at last. ‘Stancross and his wife left London without providing Lavinia with the means to travel here. The two girls put their resources together and bought tickets. They gave themselves false names for discretion’s sake.’
‘How resourceful,’ commented his mother.
He grinned reluctantly. ‘Yes, it was, wasn’t it? Unfortunately, I assumed that they had done it for a prank, and raked them down – Lavinia in particular – without giving them a chance to explain.’
‘That was not very fair – and not like you, if you will forgive my saying so,’ said the countess. ‘How did Lavinia react to that?’
‘She smacked my face,’ he admitted. ‘But in all fairness, I must tell you that that was not all. I discovered that while in London, Lavinia had somehow got herself involved with Riseholm.’
‘Riseholm!’ The countess’s shocked tone told him that she was as familiar with the earl’s reputation as was he.
‘I blame her aunt and uncle,’ said Thurlby, flushing. ‘I know that Mrs Stancross was unwell, but they should have made better provision for Lavinia. No doubt they thrust her upon any willing woman who was prepared to chaperon her. How could she then be anything but easy prey to someone like Riseholm?’
‘She has told you this?’ His mother asked, frowning.
He shook his head. ‘Not in so many words; but she has assured me that all is at an end between her and Riseholm, and I believe her.’
‘I am sure that you are right to do so,’ she replied. ‘Indeed, I wonder …’ Her voice tailed off. ‘But enough of that for now. Tell me – for a woman likes to know these things – where did you propose, and what did she say?’
He looked a little sheepish. ‘I have not proposed as yet,’ he said.
‘Not yet? Then forgive me, but how—?’
‘How do I know that there will be a wedding? I told her of my hopes before I came to fetch you, but said that I would not ask her for an answer until you had returned.’
She eyed him a little mystified. ‘Victor, are you in love with the girl, or not?’
‘Yes, I am,’ he acknowledged.
‘Then surely you could have been a little bolder.’
‘As bold as Riseholm?’ he suggested, an eyebrow raised. ‘No, Mama, I am no rake. I will treat the woman, whom I hope is to be my countess, with respect, right from the beginning.’
Isobel hurried away from the vicarage, and back towards Thurlby Hall, without even dropping in on the Horseshoe as she had intended. At first, all she could think of was how thoroughly she had been deceived. ‘How dared they?’ she muttered to herself. ‘How dared they?’ They had all conspired against her, and Lavinia was the worst of all. She knew all about this romance and she had said nothing. No doubt her so-called friend had been sniggering behind her hand when she had been talking about attracting Mr Ames. She had probably told the whole story to the vicar and Miss Tasker so that they could all have a good laugh at her expense.
She, Isobel, was always the one who was talking secrets. It was a strange sensation for her to feel left out. Worse still, the look of love that she had wanted directed towards herself was being turned upon the plain schoolmistress whilst she, the belle of every ball, had become a wallflower.
Why had Lavinia not warned her? Surely she owed her some loyalty, especially after she had provided the wherewithal for them both to travel to Stamford! No doubt Lavinia had been too wrapped up in falling in love herself to think about her friend’s needs. She was not even aware that her friend was being blackmailed by Mr Twizzle – Twizzle who this very afternoon was coming for more.
Her plan for getting a respectable fiancé was in ruins. What could she do now? Ames was beyond her reach, whilst Lavinia had snapped up Thurlby. Hawkfield and Laver had both gone to London. They had called upon her a few days ago to make their farewells, and Hawkfield had asked her, with a look full of mischief, if she had any messages for anybody.
She had not made the mistake of sending a message direct to Riseholm; but she had told him with a flirtatious toss of her head that those with whom she was acquainted would no doubt be invited to dance at her wedding, which might be sooner than any of them expected. Now there would be no wedding, and she would be made to look a fool in front of everyone.
Once back at Thurlby Hall, she went to sit in the garden. She thought about the earl, remembering how angry he had been when he had seen them getting down from the stage. Why, even Benjamin Twizzle had slunk away from him! She sat up straight, a thoughtful expression on her face. If Thurlby could somehow be persuaded to help her, then Twizzle would not dare menace her any more.
Lavinia ought to be the one to persuade him; but she did not want to ask Lavinia for anything. Lavinia had conspired against her with the vicar and his fiancée. Her friendship could not be trusted. The idea of begging for her kindness made Isobel’s mouth set in a mutinous line. This would need careful thought. Perhaps she could dare to address Lord Thurlby herself? She could give him the same story that she had told Timothy Ames. His very disapproval of Lord Riseholm might work in her favour.
Lavinia left the vicarage a short time after Isobel had hurried off. She had a good deal to think about, much of it very agreeable indeed. She had no sisters or cousins, and had never supposed that she would ever be asked to be someone’s bridesmaid. That was something to look forward to. Then there was the prospect of the return of Lord Thurlby. She had been offered nuncheon at the vicarage but she had refused, not wanting to miss Lord Thurlby’s arrival.
His meaning could hardly have been plainer when he had spoken to her before his departure. He meant to propose, and she had no doubt as to what her answer would be. She had always liked and admired him; hero-worshipped him, even. Over the days since their arrival, after an unfortunate start, she had found herself thinking about him more and more. They had enjoyed outings, conversations and jokes, and she had seen how much he was liked and admired by those who depended upon him. Yes, his temper could be quick, but he was man enough to acknowledge his mistake. The strange bolt of feeling that shot through her every time they touched hands could not be ignored. Nor could that moment when they had almost kissed, and she had felt vaguely disappointed for the rest of the day because he had not done so. At last, she had had to acknowledge that she had fallen in love with him.
Upon his return, she would tell him about who had been the real recipient of Riseholm’s advances. By
that time, she hoped, they would be engaged, and he would be too happy to send Isobel away in disgrace.
She popped into the Horseshoe with a note to the landlady from Miss Tasker. Having handed it over, she was about to leave, when the landlord called out to her, asking whether she would be seeing Mrs Hedges.
Lavinia turned, completely taken by surprise by this reference to a pseudonym that he should not have known. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said.
The landlord repeated his question. ‘Only there is a letter for her here, miss. This is a busy place and I like to get these off my hands as soon as possible, so as not to lose them.’
‘Yes, I shall be seeing her,’ Lavinia answered, taking the letter and looking down at the sloping handwriting that she had seen before, generally on notes attached to bouquets of flowers. ‘Does Mrs Hedges send and receive many letters?’
‘Quite a few,’ the landlord answered.
Thanking the man, Lavinia left the inn and set off back to Thurlby Hall. ‘Isobel!’ she declared out loud in an exasperated tone. ‘I’ll wring her neck!’
As Lord Thurlby’s carriage entered the village at about midday, the earl knocked on the roof with his cane. ‘The landlord of the Horseshoe promised to set aside a barrel of beer for me, but I think he may have forgotten. I’ll just go and remind him.’
Lady Thurlby smiled as he got down from the carriage. She could not remember ever having seen him look happier.
‘John,’ the earl called. ‘Hey there, John!’
‘Coming, my lord,’ the landlord replied, entering the tap room and bowing.
‘Have you forgotten that beer of mine?’ Thurlby asked.
‘I’ll admit it slipped my mind,’ the man acknowledged. ‘But I did remember earlier. In fact, I meant to send a message back to the Hall with the young lady.’
‘Which young lady?’
‘Why, the fair-haired young lady that collected the letter for Mrs Hedges,’ the landlord answered.
Just as surprised as Lavinia had been earlier, Thurlby responded with exactly the same words. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The letter for Mrs Hedges, my lord,’ the landlord repeated. ‘She’s a powerful diligent correspondent is Mrs Hedges. The lady that made the arrangements did say that the letters weren’t to go to the Hall.’ He looked self-conscious. ‘I hope I haven’t been indiscreet, my lord.’
‘You have done quite right,’ said the earl in neutral tones. He put his hand in the pocket of his breeches and drew out some coins. ‘With whom does Mrs Hedges correspond?’
The landlord’s loyalty to the inhabitants of Thurlby Hall had developed over a lifetime, and he might well have told the earl what he wanted to know without any pecuniary incentive; but the money was nonetheless welcome.
‘The letters are for a gentleman named Lord Riseholm, and the replies are always franked by him,’ the landlord answered.
‘I see,’ said the earl, this time stony-faced.
‘May I serve you in any other way, my lord?’ the man asked, a little concerned.
‘I don’t think so. Good day to you.’
‘Victor, what upon earth has happened?’ his mother asked when he got into the carriage.
‘Nothing that cannot be mended, thank God,’ he replied.
‘But what—’
‘Not now, Mama,’ he said, in the voice of one reining in his temper with difficulty. ‘For pity’s sake, not now.’
As Lavinia walked up the drive, she caught sight of Isobel sitting in the garden, so she walked straight over to her. ‘Isobel, what is the meaning of this?’ she asked, holding the letter out in her hand.
‘It looks like my letter,’ Isobel replied, standing. ‘May I have it, if you please?’
‘But it cannot be,’ answered Lavinia. ‘This is addressed to Mrs Hedges, and we both know that there is no such person, don’t we?’
‘What was I supposed to do?’ Isobel asked, turning away impatiently. ‘I knew that I could not send letters and receive them here under my own name.’
‘Yes you could,’ Lavinia retorted. ‘Just not those letters. They’re from Riseholm, aren’t they?’
‘If they are, what of it? Anyway, I’m not the only one keeping secrets. What about you concealing from me the true nature of the romance between Timothy Ames and Caroline Tasker?’
‘A man is entitled to be in love with his own fiancée,’ Lavinia answered reasonably.
‘Yes, I dare say he may be; but why did you not tell me? I suppose I have you to thank for the fact that I have been made to look a fool.’
Resisting the urge to say that if anyone had made a fool of her, it had been Isobel herself, Lavinia simply added, ‘The signs were there for all to see. But never mind that. For how long have you been corresponding with Riseholm?’
Isobel stared at her defiantly for a moment or two before turning away. She picked a nearby bloom, a large ornamental daisy, and began to pull off the petals. ‘Ever since we arrived,’ she answered. She paused in her work and looked up. ‘And now I am in the most awful situation.’
Lavinia was very strongly tempted to tell Isobel that clearly the mess was of her own making so she could not expect any help to get her out of it. That kind of callous approach was not in her nature, however. She sighed, tugged at her friend’s arm so that they could both sit down together, and said, ‘What is it, then?’
Isobel explained all that had happened with Benjamin Twizzle. ‘I thought that once I had paid him, he would go away,’ she sighed. ‘He did seem to be very taken with me, and I hoped that a flirtation would be sufficient for him, but he wants money, and I have no more to give him.’ She glanced at Lavinia then looked down again.
‘Don’t look at me,’ Lavinia said frankly. ‘I don’t have any money; you know I don’t.’
‘No, but …’ She paused. ‘Lavvy, anyone can see that you and Lord Thurlby are meant for each other. Do you think that he might prevail upon Mr Twizzle to go away? Oh, Lavvy, would you ask him?’
Lavinia had blushed at the first part of Isobel’s speech. Now she said, ‘There is no understanding between us, you know.’
‘Not yet, but … Would you? Please?’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Lavinia answered. They both turned their heads at the sound of an approaching carriage. ‘He’s here,’ said Lavinia, the tone of her voice betraying her feelings.
‘Then go and see him,’ said Isobel. ‘But give me my letter first.’
Lavinia hurried across the lawn, a smile on her lips. She did not see Isobel read the first line of her letter, then lift her hand to her mouth, her eyes stricken.
A tiny part of Isobel had wondered whether this letter might be full of words of love and reassurance; words which might encourage her to think that there might be a chance for her with Riseholm. Instead, he wrote of his forthcoming marriage. It was over, then. Lord Thurlby was her only hope. She put her letter away and walked slowly across the grass.
Chapter Seventeen
Lavinia could feel her heart beating faster as she approached Thurlby Hall, a smile on her face. He had as good as promised that he would ask for her hand once his mother was in residence. Now, he had come back, and presumably Lady Thurlby was with him.
She had gone over the scene in Lord Thurlby’s library countless times since he had left. The memory of his lips against her hand had been her last waking thought each night, as she had cradled her hand against her cheek before settling down to sleep.
She wondered whether to go and greet them at once, or to go to her room and put on a prettier gown. Before she could make that decision, Lord Thurlby himself emerged onto the terrace, glanced around, saw her, then came towards her with hasty strides. At first smiling, Lavinia’s smile faded as she saw the thunderous expression on his face.
‘Victor,’ she exclaimed, ‘what has occurred?’
As he reached her side, he caught hold of her arm, constraining to walk with him, almost at a run. ‘You might well ask,’ he responded.
‘Pray, what is the meaning of this?’ she asked, astonished, and now becoming angry. ‘Let go of me at once.’
‘Be silent,’ he demanded, still holding tightly to her arm, and leading her towards a sheltered area, where small clearings were surrounded by high hedges. ‘Now, Mrs Hedges, you can explain yourself.’
‘Mrs Hedges?’ she echoed.
‘You remember, surely,’ he answered sarcastically. ‘It is the assumed identity under which you travelled to Stamford.’
‘Yes, I know,’ she responded. ‘And so did you. We spoke of this before.’
‘We did indeed,’ the earl agreed. ‘You may also recall that during that same conversation, you assured me that your correspondence with Lord Riseholm had ceased.’
‘I have not corresponded with Lord Riseholm,’ she told him. She was so shaken by his ungentlemanly handling of her that she could not grasp what he was talking about.
‘Then kindly explain to me why the landlord of the Horseshoe is able to describe Mrs Hedges as a “diligent correspondent”,’ he demanded.
Now, she understood. She blushed, and to his eyes, she looked guilty. It was the time for her to tell him that it was Isobel who was corresponding with Lord Riseholm, but she could not think how to say it. After all, she had only just learned about it herself.
‘Your silence tells its own tale,’ he said, before she could frame a reply. ‘To think that I believed you! You told me … assured me that your relationship with him was over and I believed you. I even … gullible fool that I am, I even fell in love with you. But the woman I fell in love with does not exist.’
‘Victor, please!’ exclaimed Lavinia, anxiously.
‘To think that I held back from making an offer for your hand out of respect!’ He laughed derisively. ‘Respect! That’s rich! You don’t know the meaning of the word.’
‘Indeed, you are mistaken! I—’
‘Were you laughing at me when I professed my devotion to you?’ he asked, hurt as well as anger in his voice. ‘Was it a choice titbit with which to regale his rakeship in your next letter? How you must both have laughed at my folly! Well no more, madam, no more. Since a rake is what you want, a rake is what you had better have.’