Scandal at the Dower House

by Marina Oliver

  ‘H’m. Just the sort of fortune-hunting scoundrel I wish to protect you from, my dear lady!’

  Catarina stiffened. ‘George Pearce has an independent fortune, and I like him. I consider him a good friend, Sir Humphrey, and would be grateful if you do not abuse him.’

  They drove back to Hill Street with him keeping an offended silence. Catarina hoped she had done enough to prevent future proposals, but she was sorry if he had been hurt, for he had been a good friend to Walter. He allowed the footman who came out of the house to assist her from the barouche, merely nodding farewell, and ordering the coachman to drive on before she had gained the house.

  Lady Mortimer received on Tuesdays, and Nicholas was sitting with them when Sir Humphrey was announced. After paying attentions to the ladies, Sir Humphrey moved to sit next to Nicholas.

  ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘may I have a private word with you?’

  ‘Something to do with Marshington Grange?’ Nicholas asked. ‘Let us go to the library.’

  When they were seated and drinking glasses of wine, Nicholas looked enquiringly at his visitor. ‘How may I help you, Sir Humphrey?’

  ‘It’s about Lady Brooke. I fear she is getting into unsuitable company,’ Sir Humphrey said. ‘When I drove her out yesterday we were accosted – I put it as strongly as that – by some whippersnapper who thought, because he wore some fancy uniform, that he could insult us both with impunity. Why, the fellow was making love to her right under my nose!’

  Nicholas suppressed a smile. He had only met Sir Humphrey a couple of times, but had put him down as a rather pompous provincial. He discounted Sir Humphrey’s wider assertion, but none the less the intelligence that Catarina seemed to have acquired an admirer, and a military man at that, caused him some unease. Was it at all possible this man was someone she had met in Portugal? Was their acquaintance of long standing? Could that be why she had stayed in Lisbon for so long? Was this why she had come to London?

  ‘Who was the man?’ he asked.

  ‘He called himself George Pearce. He’s some connection of the friend Catarina is staying with, but he’s an impudent dog.’

  ‘Lady Brooke is of age, independent, able to choose her own friends,’ Nicholas said. ‘I do not see what it has to do with either of us.’

  Sir Humphrey huffed for a moment.

  ‘I can see I need to put my cards on the table. I have expectations that Lady Brooke will soon become my wife.’

  That did startle Nicholas. Why, after so many years with Walter, would Catarina want another elderly husband? It was not for acquiring another wealthy husband who might be expected to die long before her. From what he had heard Sir Humphrey’s fortune was modest, as was his estate. He would benefit more from such a marriage, if he acquired Catarina’s much larger fortune.

  His throat was dry and he had to clear it before he spoke.

  ‘Has she accepted you?’

  ‘Not yet, but, as you know, ladies are reluctant to be brought up to scratch. They like to keep us in suspense. However, I’m not the sort of man to be put off by a couple of refusals. I’ve no doubt she’ll come round to it in time. But as a member of her family, or rather of Walter’s, I would be grateful if you would drop a word in her ear that consorting with fellows like George Pearce will harm her reputation. She would listen to you.’

  Nicholas very much doubted it. He was tempted to throw Sir Humphrey out of the house. How dare the old reprobate even think of offering for Catarina? The only welcome information was that she had twice refused him. Catarina was no coquette; she would not refuse a man simply to tease him. But George Pearce might be a different matter. Suddenly he was certain he wanted her for his wife. He must capture her before she was stolen from him.

  ‘Come back to the ladies,’ he suggested, managing to avoid making any promises to speak to Catarina on Sir Humphrey’s behalf.

  An hour later he was condemning himself for taking the man back upstairs, for Olivia had, hearing he was a neighbour at Marshington, issued an invitation to her ball in a few days’ time.

  Catarina, back in Hill Street, fumed, but she had to laugh when she told Delphine what had happened.

  ‘George was superb, but I felt rather sorry for Sir Humphrey. He was quite out of his depth.’

  They spoke no more of the encounter, and Catarina became absorbed in deciding what she wanted to wear to Olivia’s ball. As a widow, she felt she ought to wear something sober. She told Delphine she had no intention of dancing, but her friend ridiculed the suggestion.

  ‘My dear Catarina, you do not, I hope, intend to wear a train and a turban and sit for the entire evening amongst the dowagers, do you? That would be a wicked waste. And you’ve danced at other balls. It would be noticed and remarked upon, cause gossip and speculation. I intend to dance. I am determined to capture your handsome new earl for at least one.’

  There was no stopping Delphine, so Catarina was persuaded to wear her most attractive gown, of rose silk, low cut and with tiny sleeves, with deeper shaded embroidery and rouleaux decorated with silk roses round the hem. With it she had beaded satin slippers and white silk gloves. She wore the diamond parure Walter had given her when they were first married, which she had had few occasions to wear and which reflected the colour of the gown in a million shimmering gleams. To her surprise she had received a posy of white rosebuds from George, and she smiled as she pinned it on to her gown. It was a new experience for her to have a handsome young man pay her such attention and, even though she knew they were both playing a part, it was enjoyable and gave her courage to face the inevitable meeting with Nicholas.

  They set off for the ball early, Delphine predicting a crush of vehicles converging on Grosvenor Square. Catarina, waiting for the carriages to disentangle themselves and disgorge their passengers outside Nicholas’s house, thought it would have been much faster for them to have walked, but when she said this to Delphine, the latter laughed.

  ‘In these pumps? Catarina, they would be ruined before we had walked halfway. By the dirt, if not by being worn through.’

  At last, after what seemed like an hour of waiting, they drew up before the portico and were handed down by a liveried footman on to a red carpet leading to the open front door. Other footmen lined the path, keeping back the crowd of people who, Delphine whispered, always gathered outside houses where Society balls were taking place.

  ‘Some of them look as though they are starving!’ Catarina exclaimed. ‘They are thinner even than Dan was.’

  ‘Who is Dan? Never mind, tell me later, we haven’t time now.’

  Lady Mortimer and Nicholas were at the top of the stairs, flanking Olivia, greeting their guests. Olivia looked enchanting in a white silk gown, gently ruched all down the skirt, embroidered only with white flowers. Her dark hair was cut in the latest style to frame her face, and she was wearing a delicate gold chain with a heart-shaped gold locket. She had shown Catarina the locket, opening it to reveal miniatures of her parents. Catarina thought how sensible of her, or perhaps it was Lady Mortimer’s influence, to wear only simple jewellery.

  They exchanged greetings and then, to Catarina’s confusion, Nicholas leant closer to her, speaking so that none of the others could hear.

  ‘Please keep the first waltz for me.’

  *

  The first person Catarina saw when she entered the ballroom was Sir Humphrey Unwin. He was standing sideways towards her and seemed to be staring hard at someone just out of her sight behind a bank of greenery. She hesitated. She had not known he was coming and, after their drive in the Park, she had no wish to see him again.

  Then the object of his fixed regard moved forward. It was George Pearce. He saw her immediately and strolled towards her, nodding affably to Sir Humphrey as he came. Sir Humphrey swivelled round to watch his progress and saw Catarina. He started towards her as well, almost running, and the two men reached her simultaneously.

  ‘My dear Lady Brooke, how delicious you look. And I see how well my little g
ift goes with your gown.’

  ‘Good evening Catarina.’

  ‘Sir Humphrey, Mr Pearce.’

  Delphine, who had paused to greet an acquaintance, was slightly behind Catarina. Catarina heard her smother a chuckle before she spoke.

  ‘Sir Humphrey, how elegant you look. George, not in your regimentals? I’m disappointed, you look so dashing in them.’

  ‘I’ve decided to join the Dandy set, now the Beau has left us and made room for others to shine.’

  ‘The Beau? Mr Brummell, you mean? Where has he gone?’ Delphine asked.

  ‘Haven’t you heard? Alvanley told me. It’s all they can talk about in the clubs. His debts have finally caught up with him and he has decamped to France. They are auctioning all his possessions in a day or so. I may try to secure one of his snuff-boxes. He’s reputed to have hundreds, at least one for every day of the year. He always used them with such style.’

  ‘Foppery! All the man ever thought of was clothing and fashion!’

  ‘Oh no, Sir Humphrey; he enjoyed the play and opera, and his debts are mainly due to his losses at the tables,’ George contradicted gently. ‘But no doubt you are unaware of that down in the country.’

  Sir Humphrey snorted. There was no other word for it, Catarina thought, and was suddenly reminded of Mr Lewis’s pigs. When George asked her to partner him in the country dance just forming, she thankfully escaped before she disgraced herself by laughing.

  ‘That was unkind, suggesting he is a country bumpkin,’ she said.

  George laughed. ‘Isn’t he?’

  ‘He was been a good friend of my husband, but I do wish he would accept that I have no wish to marry him!’

  The movement of the dance separated them, and there was no more opportunity for much conversation. Sir Humphrey was standing at the side of the room, glowering, but Delphine had been drawn into another set and he was alone. Catarina felt a moment’s sorrow for him; he looked and no doubt felt out of place. She had to remind herself firmly that she could not afford to be kind as he would assume her resolve was weakening and pursue her even more ardently. He had never spent a great deal of time in London, even when his wife was alive. She did not think his daughters had been given Seasons here. Most probably they had been sent to Bath until they found husbands similar to himself. Both of them had married unremarkable men, small landholders like himself, and his sons had both married the daughters of clergymen and had to earn their own livings, though she was unsure whether both were attorneys, or whether one was a doctor.

  When the dance ended she and Delphine found seats together near one of the tall windows opening into the garden. It was a cold night, so the windows were closed, but the garden, decorated with flambeaux and coloured streamers, looked enchanting.

  They were no sooner seated than Sir Humphrey approached.

  ‘Catarina, I am surprised to see you dancing so soon after poor Walter’s death. It does not strike me as seemly, but no doubt your fashionable new friends do not mind.’

  All her gentle feelings for him vanished.

  ‘Sir Humphrey, you appear to consider it soon enough, and seemly, for me to contract another marriage. You have no jurisdiction over my behaviour. I shall determine what is seemly. I beg you not to embarrass me in front of my friends by chiding me as though I were a child!’

  He gave her a hard look, then, without a further word, turned and walked away. Catarina gave a deep sigh.

  ‘Oh dear, now I have offended him.’

  ‘He deserved it, the pompous old fool,’ Delphine comforted her. ‘You must not permit it to spoil your enjoyment. Listen, they have started a waltz and here comes your partner.’

  Catarina was stiff with apprehension when Nicholas bowed before her, but she managed to rise to her feet and accompany him on to the floor. When he put his arm round her waist she trembled violently.

  ‘I’m not about to harm you,’ he said, and she detected a hint of amusement in his voice.

  She swallowed. ‘No my lord. I did not think you were.’

  For some time after that they did not speak. He was an excellent dancer and, though Catarina had only danced the waltz occasionally during the last year of Walter’s life, at local assemblies, she had no difficulty in following his lead.

  Eventually he broke the silence.

  ‘Are you enjoying your stay in London?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, my lord, it is very pleasant. Delphine, Mrs Pearce, has made me most welcome.’

  ‘She is an old friend?’

  ‘We were at school together.’

  ‘And you know her brother-in-law well?’

  ‘I only met him here. Although Delphine and I have corresponded over the years, since we left school, I have only met her husband once, and George not at all previously.’

  ‘He seems very attentive.’

  ‘He is kind.’

  ‘And Sir Humphrey? I understand he was surprised to find you here. Mrs Eade seemed to believe you had gone to some watering place for your health. I was sorry to hear you had been indisposed.’

  ‘It was not serious, my lord.’

  Just hurt and disappointment after he had rejected her. Catarina raised her chin slightly, then had to blink hard. She looked round the room and saw that Olivia was dancing with a young man she did not know.

  ‘Your sister is permitted to waltz?’ she asked. ‘I understood it was not the thing for debutantes.’

  ‘She luckily pleased the patronesses at Almack’s, and they gave her permission two weeks ago. I think she would have hesitated to waltz even at a private ball if they had not.’

  ‘She looks lovely tonight, and is clearly enjoying herself.’

  ‘Catarina.’ He paused, then started again. ‘Catarina, we parted on difficult terms, and I would like an opportunity to talk to you. Will you drive out with me tomorrow, if the weather is clement? It has been such a cold and wet few months it is difficult to make arrangements.’

  Catarina hesitated. Did she want to be alone with Nicholas? But if she refused she might lose her last opportunity of talking to him, and perhaps trying to convince him that Maria was not her child.

  ‘Very well, my lord.’

  ‘I will call for you at four.’

  Chapter Eleven

  NICHOLAS HAD STILL not decided what he wanted when he called for Catarina the following day. She eyed the high perch phaeton and four horses, smiled in delight, then lifted her skirts and scrambled up beside him before his groom could go to her assistance.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to ride in one of these carriages; they look such fun,’ she said, as she settled herself.

  ‘Allow me to put this rug around your knees,’ he said, smiling at her enthusiasm. Many ladies were terrified of sitting two yards above the ground. ‘It’s unseasonably cold.’

  ‘But not, for once, raining. Thank you, my lord.’

  She did not speak again as he negotiated the traffic and turned into the relative peace of the Park. He wondered whether she thought he would be unable to talk and drive at the same time.

  ‘I hope you enjoyed the ball.’

  ‘Yes, indeed, it was most pleasant. Was Olivia happy?’

  ‘The child is overwhelmed with flowers, messages of thanks and invitations to so many events she will have to attend three at least every day. I shall be glad that the Season will soon be over and we can all get away from London.’

  ‘Will you go to Brighton? I believe most of the ton retreat there in June and July. Some have gone already.’

  ‘Have you ever been?’

  ‘No. Walter did not approve of the Prince Regent’s folly, as he called the Pavilion. Besides, we did not come to London above two or three times in our entire married life.’

  Nicholas detected no trace of regret in her tone. Suddenly he wanted to know more about her first marriage.

  ‘What in the world made you marry a man as old as Walter, when you were so young?’ he demanded.

  She glanced at him.

  ‘
Because I was so young. My uncle arranged it. Sir Ivor became our guardian when Papa died when I was fifteen. I was still grieving for him a year later. I had been told so often that girls were supposed to obey their parents, accept any match arranged for them, that I never questioned it, let alone objected. Besides—’

  ‘Besides what?’

  ‘Uncle Ivor was a very strict disciplinarian. He took me away from the Bath seminary, told me I had to help Aunt Hebe, learn how to run a house. But he was never satisfied. I was always being punished, often for things I did not know I had done, or not done when I was supposed to have. I looked on marriage as an escape. And Walter was gentle, always kind to me.’

  Nicholas tightened his hands on the reins and then had to bring his team under control as they broke into a canter. If he could have met Sir Ivor Norton just then the man would have been sorry.

  ‘What about your sister? I believe she is eighteen. Has he not tried to arrange a marriage for her?’

  ‘Joanna was stronger than I, and refused two matches he tried to force on her. Uncle beat her and starved her, but she would not obey him. When she could endure it no more she came to me; that was one reason we went to visit our Portuguese family then.’

  ‘And that turned out happily, since she married a man she loved.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Now she had mentioned Portugal herself Nicholas felt able to mention the child.

  ‘Catarina, I have to apologize for the way I spoke to you the last time we met at Marshington. I have no excuse, other than being taken by surprise. I had not known there was a baby in the house.’

  ‘I understand, my lord.’

  Her voice was so low he scarcely heard the words. He halted the phaeton and motioned to the tiger to go to the horses’ heads.

  ‘Shall we walk for a while?’