by Ann Barker
Before she could discern his intention, he had seized her and pulled her into his arms. Then with insolent fingers, he forced up her chin, and pressed his mouth down onto hers in a cruel travesty of a kiss.
She had shyly anticipated the first time when he would kiss her properly. Never had she imagined something so savage, so brutal, without a vestige of the love that he professed to feel for her. At last he released her and they stood staring at one another, both a little out of breath, he still with rage in his eyes, she with unshed tears in hers. ‘Get out of my sight,’ he said in a low tone that was not quite steady. ‘Just get out of my sight.’
She stared at him for a long moment, before whirling around and running into the wilderness.
Isobel, who had approached unseen, and heard the last little bit of this exchange, also turned away. There would be no help from this direction, for if the earl had been so angry with the woman whom he was supposed to love, how great would be his anger towards one for whom he did not care two straws? Now she would have to face Bernard Twizzle, not only without any money to offer him, but without any prospect of getting any and with no possibility of rescue from any other quarter. Her lips set in a tight line. Mr Twizzle had had it his own way for too long. It was high time that he was of use to her.
It was some time before Lavinia returned to the house, and when she did, it was with the resolve that she must find somewhere else to stay. She refused to spend so much as one more night underneath the roof of a man who was so unreasonable that he would not listen to an explanation, even when he had asked for one. As he had hurled accusations at her, she had been too confused to speak. Later, distress mingled with indignation that he should believe this of her when he was supposed to be in love with her had ensured her continued silence. She had greeted his return, full of hope for a happy future. Now, all that was gone; and although she knew that she bore some responsibility for not being open with him, he had shown a deplorable lack of trust that would be hard to forgive. Furthermore, the notion of facing him when he had kissed her so brutally was utterly mortifying.
She would go to Caroline Tasker, she decided. Her cottage was tiny, but at least she was a true friend. From there, she would write to Mr and Mrs Stancross. She would be able to make herself useful to them at Lyme Regis, she was sure. All her dreams were shattered now. It was time to face reality.
She went into the house by a side door hoping to escape notice. She was successful until she got to her own room, and found Lady Thurlby waiting inside, in a chair by the window. ‘Aunt Phyllis!’ she exclaimed.
Lady Thurlby got gracefully to her feet. ‘My dear,’ she said, opening her arms. Lavinia, who had thought that she had regained control over her composure, ran into them and burst into tears.
‘I knew that it was a mistake for me to go away,’ said Lady Thurlby when Lavinia had spilled out the whole story. ‘Miss Wheatman, excellent though she is, does not know you as I do and would, perhaps, be more diffident than I about making enquiries when she is not living in her own house. And of course, my pig-headed son has leaped to his own conclusions in a way that only a man of this family can. Would you like to remain here with me whilst I send him to live in a cottage in the village?’
Lavinia gave a watery chuckle. ‘This is his home,’ she said. She remembered that she had thought that it would be hers too, and she gave another little sob.
Instinctively understanding the direction of her thoughts, Lady Thurlby said, ‘My dear, it will all come right in the end, I am sure. Victor has a temper, I know, but it is an honest and open one. He has gone out riding now but when he comes back I am convinced he will see reason.’
‘I hope he falls off into a ditch and has to come home covered in mud,’ said Lavinia savagely.
Lady Thurlby laughed. ‘If it brings him to his senses, then I hope indeed that he may,’ she said. ‘I do think that there can be no harm in your going to Caroline Tasker. I have only one concern, and that is your friend, Miss Macclesfield. I doubt very much if Victor will want to give her house-room when he hears that she is Lord Riseholm’s real correspondent.’
‘He must not be told,’ said Lavinia quickly. ‘He has made some stupid assumptions and I do not see why anyone should put him right.’
‘I thought that you would say that, and although I am not in complete agreement with you, I can understand your feelings,’ replied her ladyship. ‘But you must understand mine. Even if he does not know, I will do so. I do not scruple to say that I should find it hard to be civil to her under such circumstances.’
‘I suppose I had better go and speak to her,’ said Lavinia with a sigh. ‘I just have no idea what I am going to say.’
‘I think your determination to speak to her at all is quite admirable,’ said Lady Thurlby. ‘In your place, I should be wanting to wring her neck. Shall I wait here?’
‘Please.’
As she left her room and walked down the passage to Isobel’s, it occurred to Lavinia that whilst her feelings towards her friend amounted to little more than irritation, her anger was reserved for the man who had asked her to explain herself, and had then refused to listen. She hoped that he would not just be covered with mud from head to toe, but that his horse would bolt and he would have to walk all the way home. ‘In leaky boots,’ she added savagely to herself, as she scratched on Isobel’s door.
There was no reply, so after calling her friend’s name softly, Lavinia opened the door and walked in. Isobel was never a very tidy person, but her belongings seemed to be in more of a mess than usual. Gowns had been taken from the cupboard and thrown across the bed. One bonnet was also on the bed and another was on the floor. Drawers had been left open, and things were spilling out of them. One or two papers were lying on the floor. The impression was of someone having made a hasty departure. It was impossible to discern whether anything was missing.
Lavinia looked around her, quite unable to decide what to do next. Eventually, she went back to her own room, thinking to fetch the countess. ‘She is not there,’ she began. Then because she had walked into the room thinking about Isobel and not, as on the previous occasion, about her own troubles, she suddenly noticed the note on the mantelpiece. With an exclamation, she hurried across the room and opened it.
Dear Lavvy
I have gone with Benjamin Twizzle, so pray do not try to come after me. I can’t go back to London, since Willie will be as mad as fire and send me to Harrogate to my grandmother, and I can’t face that. Riseholm is spoken for. Timothy Ames can’t help me and I daren’t face Thurlby after seeing how angry he was with you today, so Twizzle it must be! I dare say he may make an amusing enough husband in the end, and since I can’t have Riseholm, anyone will do.
Once I’ve gone, you can tell Thurlby about who was really writing to his rakeship. He’ll come round then, I’m sure. Be happy. At least one of us will marry the man she loves.
Isobel
‘What does it say?’ her ladyship asked. She had got up from her place and was standing next to Lavinia, although very politely refraining from looking over her shoulder at her correspondence.
‘She has gone with Benjamin Twizzle,’ said Lavinia looking up incredulously.
‘With Twizzle!’ exclaimed Lady Thurlby. ‘Good heavens, why?’
‘She has heard from Lord Riseholm. Apparently he has got engaged to Miss Egan. Isobel had other hopes, but they are not to be.’
‘What might those have been?’ asked her ladyship, wrinkling her brow.
‘I’m not at all sure,’ Lavinia answered, reluctant to reveal how her friend would have destroyed Mr Ames’s engagement without a qualm.
‘But how has she come to know Twizzle well enough to take such a step?’
‘We met him on the stage as we were travelling to Stamford, and I’m told he was at Folkingham when we went there on an outing. At the time, I thought that he was there by chance, but today she told me that he has been taking money from her as payment to say nothing about her involvement
with Lord Riseholm. She had decided to tell Lord … Lord Thurlby’ – she hesitated on the name – ‘about her difficulties, but then—’ She stopped abruptly.
‘I can guess,’ said the countess. ‘She heard Victor upbraiding you about Riseholm and concluded that no help was to be had from that direction. Poor girl! She had nowhere to turn.’
Lavinia had to smile at that. ‘Isobel is not usually the kind of girl whom one would describe as “poor”,’ she said. ‘Although I suspect that her chaperon in London was not very kind, so no doubt she could not bear to go back there either. What’s more, Mrs Wilbraham has threatened to send her to her grandmother in Harrogate if she returns to London unattached.’
‘And who is her grandmother?’
‘She is called Mrs Scales,’ Lavinia answered.
Lady Thurlby blenched. ‘The Wimbledon Witch,’ she breathed. ‘Married three times and all of her husbands dead; from what cause one dare not guess! No wonder Miss Macclesfield is desperate not to go there.’
‘Izzy has been very foolish, but I cannot bear to think of her being at the mercy of such as Benjamin Twizzle. I shall have to go after her, I suppose.’
‘Our horses are at your disposal, of course,’ said the countess. ‘I wonder whether Mr Ames and Miss Tasker would go with you?’
‘You forget that Miss Wheatman and Miss Tasker have gone to visit Miss Tasker’s father today,’ Lavinia reminded her.
‘Oh dear,’ said the countess. ‘Then, of course, I will go with you myself.’
‘But you have only been home for five minutes,’ Lavinia responded. ‘It hardly seems fair.’ At that moment, they heard the sound of the front doorbell.
‘Perhaps Miss Wheatman has come back early,’ said the countess hopefully. They left Lavinia’s chamber and walked along the passage, descending the stairs just as the butler was admitting a caller. As they stood at the top of the flight, they looked down, just as the visitor looked up. He was dressed for travelling in the finest London fashion.
‘Lord Riseholm!’ Lavinia gasped.
Riseholm executed an elegant bow. ‘Your servant, Lady Thurlby. And Miss … Muir, is it not? Your pardon for intruding, but as I was in the area, I thought that I might call.’
‘That is very civil of you, my lord,’ said Lady Thurlby descending the stairs, and giving the earl her hand as he bowed again. ‘Allow me to show you into the drawing room, so that I may offer you some refreshment.’
‘You are very gracious,’ Riseholm responded, following his hostess after she had asked the butler to bring wine. ‘Particularly since we barely know one another.’
‘Which makes your courtesy in visiting us all the greater,’ the countess responded, receiving a gracious inclination of the head by way of reply. ‘Is this the first time that you have visited Lincolnshire, Lord Riseholm? Your own estates are in Shropshire, I believe. You must find this countryside rather flat in comparison.’
‘As far as I recall,’ he answered, taking the seat that she indicated, and crossing his legs, after laying his hat and cane on the floor next to his chair. ‘I do not go there very frequently, madam. Unlike your son, I am not a squire by nature.’
The countess’s smile did not reach her eyes. ‘I know how to be a good hostess, Lord Riseholm,’ she said. ‘But speak of my son with the slightest disrespect, and I shall show you the door.’
Lavinia looked at the other lady in amazement. Never had she seen her godmother look so haughty!
‘I intended no disrespect, I assure you,’ Riseholm replied. ‘I was merely attempting to point out the differences between your son and myself – differences which I am very well aware show him to great advantage.’
The countess inclined her head. ‘I accept your explanation,’ she said, as the butler brought in the wine, together with a jug of lemonade. ‘Will you be good enough to pour, my lord?’
‘You honour me,’ he answered, rising fluidly to his feet and crossing to the sideboard where the butler had placed the tray. ‘Wine for you, ma’am, or do you prefer lemonade?’
Lavinia listened to all these politenesses with gathering irritation, and barely managed to accept a glass of lemonade from the earl without snapping at him. The shock of his arrival had been sufficient to push everything else to the back of her mind. Now, she asked herself what could have brought him into the heart of the country. She suspected that he was simply there to torment Isobel in some way. Whatever his reasons, the urgency of her errand became greater with every passing moment, and she was now anxious to be on her way. On the surface, the countess did not appear to be concerned at all; but when Lavinia darted a glance at her as the earl returned to his own place, she frowned and shook her head slightly. She had not forgotten, then.
‘And what brings you to this part of the world, Lord Riseholm?’ Lady Thurlby asked him. ‘My understanding was that you spent most of your time in London.’
‘That is so,’ Riseholm replied after he had sat down. ‘However, a recent letter from an acquaintance reminded me of what I had been missing. Have you been having an agreeable stay, Miss Muir?’
‘Yes, very agreeable, thank you,’ Lavinia replied, determinedly hiding her impatience.
‘My goddaughter is being too kind,’ Lady Thurlby interrupted. ‘I have been obliged to neglect her for a little when I was called to the bedside of a sick friend.’
‘You did not have to leave her here alone, I trust,’ murmured the earl, before taking another sip of wine.
‘Oh no,’ Lady Thurlby answered. ‘My neighbour Miss Wheatman came to take my place.’
There was a brief silence before the earl said, ‘That was indeed fortunate.’ He paused. ‘This little fencing match has been entertaining in its way, my lady, but perhaps it is time that I was a little more direct. I believe that you also have a young lady staying here by the name of Isobel Macclesfield, with whom I am acquainted. I would be glad if I could pay my respects.’
‘Isobel is not here,’ Lavinia said, unable to keep silent any longer.
‘No doubt she is off being squired about the countryside by the young clergyman she is rumoured to be seeing,’ he murmured.
‘Mr Ames?’ exclaimed the countess.
By a strange coincidence, at this moment, the door opened. ‘Miss Tasker and Mr Ames,’ the butler announced.
‘Caroline! Oh, thank goodness,’ Lavinia exclaimed involuntarily whilst Lady Thurlby busied herself with introducing Lord Riseholm to the newcomers.
‘Mr Ames,’ said Lord Riseholm, with a flourishing bow. ‘May I congratulate you on your engagement?’ The earl’s expression was everything that was appropriate to the sentiments that he was expressing, but his eyes looked cold and empty.
Mr Ames responded by saying ‘You are very kind, my lord. I am a fortunate man.’
Lavinia happened to be looking at Riseholm at this moment, and she noticed a strangely blank look cross his face before he said, ‘You are indeed. I know the lady slightly, and she is certainly a prize.’
‘Why, so do I think so,’ answered Mr Ames, glancing warmly at Caroline.
‘You are very kind in your sentiments, my lord,’ said Caroline. ‘But I must confess that I do not recall meeting you before.’
Riseholm glanced from one to the other. ‘This is the lady to whom you are engaged?’ he said, frowning slightly.
‘It is,’ Ames answered.
‘You are not, then, engaged to Miss Macclesfield?’
‘No indeed,’ the clergyman answered hastily. ‘Nor was there ever any prospect of my being engaged to her. Miss Tasker and I were betrothed before the young lady arrived in the district.’
The earl looked at him, then began to chuckle. ‘Of course you were,’ he said.
‘Your meaning, my lord?’ said Mr Ames, lifting his chin.
‘Dear me, I appear to be very maladroit today,’ said Riseholm mournfully. ‘I do not seem to be able to meet anyone without almost immediately giving them offence. Perhaps I should instantly excuse myself.’ H
e turned to Lady Thurlby. ‘Would you kindly have the goodness to inform Miss Macclesfield that I called when she returns? I have taken rooms at the George in Stamford and shall do myself the honour of calling upon her another day. Your servant, ma’am.’
Lavinia looked at the countess. ‘Aunt Phyllis?’ she said. Lady Thurlby made a gesture of assent. ‘Isobel has gone,’ she said, turning back to Riseholm.
‘Yes, so you told me earlier,’ he replied. ‘That is why I am now sending her my compliments as I take my leave.’
‘No, you don’t understand,’ said Lavinia urgently. ‘She has gone – eloped.’
There was a brief silence, broken only by exclamations from Miss Tasker and Mr Ames. ‘Presumably with some gentleman whose identity is unknown to me,’ said Lord Riseholm, picking an infinitesimal piece of fluff from his sleeve. ‘In that case, you will probably not see Miss Macclesfield in order to pass on my compliments. I will take my leave of you. Pray wish her joy on my behalf.’
‘No!’ cried Lavinia, hurrying to lay a hand on his arm. ‘She will be miserable. Who would not be, if they were called Izzy Twizzle? You must help me to rescue her.’
‘Forgive my obtuseness, but ladies do not normally need rescuing when they are eloping,’ said the earl, his tone hardening a little. ‘I am not her father. It is not my place to drag her home when her choice is made.’
‘But it is not made,’ Lavinia replied. ‘It … she …’ She thrust Isobel’s letter at him. ‘You had better read for yourself,’ she said.
He took the letter and ran his eye over its contents. His face gave little away, but it seemed to Lavinia as if some of the hardness around his mouth disappeared, particularly as he reached the last paragraph. ‘You said that you intended to go after her,’ he said, his tone lacking some of its customary languor.