by Jan Burke
“Oh, thank heaven,” he cried, even before I’d settled the grays, “it’s dear old Rossiter!”
Two days earlier, the fellow had all but given me the cut direct at Lady Fanshawe’s rout, and here he was, addressing me as if I were an angel come down the road just to save him.
“Dallingham!” I replied. “What on earth has happened? I trust you’ve taken no hurt?”
“Nothing that signifies,” he said, dabbing at a little cut above his left brow. “But I am in the devil’s own hurry and here this phaeton has lost a wheel and broken an axle!”
“Let me take you up, then,” I said. “Will your groom be able to manage those bays?”
“Yes, yes,” he said, already climbing up next to me. “I’d just instructed him to take them back to that inn we passed-five miles back or so, and to see about repairs. May I trouble you take me there? I must see if they’ve something I can hire-”
“Nonsense, Dallingham, can’t imagine they’d have so much as a horsecart to hire. I’m on my way to Ollington-to see my Aunt Lavinia. I’ll take you along as far that, and if you need-”
“Ollington! Why, I’m to dine at Bingsley Hall this evening, and-”
“Bingsley Hall?” I said. “Well, that is on my way. No trouble at all.”
“My thanks, Rossiter!”
The grays were restive, and I put them to. A moment later, he said, “Perhaps you can save me from disgrace.”
I doubted there was any possibility of such a thing, but I said, “Oh?” (Just like that, you know-“Oh?” I believe I raised a brow, but I can’t swear to it.)
“Have you met Lord and Lady Bingsley?” he asked.
“Never had the pleasure. They do not go about much in society. I believe my aunt has some acquaintance with them.”
“Damned recluses, the pair of them.”
“I beg your pardon? Did you not just say you were invited to dine there?”
He smiled. “Oh no, I’m to stay there a fortnight!”
“A fortnight! With the Bingsleys!”
“Well, yes, as it turns out, we’re related!”
“You are related to Miss Bannister’s aunt and uncle?”
He laughed. “Wish me happy, Rossiter! I’m newly married!”
“Married!” I could not hide my shock.
“Yes, as of yesterday. And in future you must refer to Miss Bannister as Lady Dallingham. We were married by special license. She’s gone on to Bingsley to-er, prepare my welcome.”
Charles, I own I was left speechless. The grays took advantage of my lack of concentration, and a rather difficult moment passed before both my horses and my composure were back in hand.
“Well, then,” I said, rather bravely, really, “I do wish you happy. Miss-er, Lady Dallingham is a lovely young woman.”
“Oh, I suppose the chit’s well enough,” he said, “but there can be no doubt that her fortune’s mighty handsome.”
As you can imagine, this blunt speech left me appalled. Of course, all the world knew that Dallingham was hanging out for an heiress, and that he had followed in his father’s footsteps-meaning that his gaming had finally destroyed whatever portion of the family fortune the old man had not already lost at faro and dicing.
I know you’ll not take offense at my putting it so baldly, Charles-after all, neither your cousin Dallingham nor his father could be ranked among your favorites, and your father was estranged from his late brother for many years. I recall that Dallingham applied to your esteemed parent for assistance with his debts on more than one occasion, and that your father-quite rightly-showed him the door.
Of course, even as I took him up that night, I knew that Dallingham was not without friends. He could make himself charming when need be. I will own that Dallingham’s handsome face made him agreeable to the ladies, but most matchmaking mama’s steered their chicks clear of him, knowing he hadn’t a feather to fly with, and that his reputation as a rake was not unearned.
I fear Miss Bannister was easy prey to such a man. She was an orphan. Her guardian was a half-brother who gave little thought to her; he gave her over to the care of her aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Bingsley-Lord Bingsley also serving as the trustee of the large fortune that will come to her a few years hence.
But the Bingsleys, as I have said, do not go about much, and have not been seen in Town for some years. When Miss Bannister was old enough to make her come-out, therefore, her half-brother arranged that she would spend the season with her godmother, a most foolish woman, who could by no means be accounted a suitable chaperone.
I soon had it from Dallingham that her half-brother-undoubtedly mislead by Dallingham’s charm-had granted his consent to this hasty wedding.
“You think it unseemly, high stickler that you are!” Dallingham accused me now.
“I? A high stickler?” I said. “Oh no. One only wonders, what brought about a need for such haste?”
“Tradesmen and others,” he replied, quite honestly.
“Forgive me if I speak of matters which do not closely concern me, Dallingham,” I said, “but you find me all curiosity. Miss Bannister’s godmother has bandied it about that Miss Bannister does not come into her fortune upon marriage. She must reach the age of twenty.”
“Ah, and you wonder that I could wait so long? The expectation, my dear. The tradesmen foresee a day in the not-so-distant future when I shall be a very wealthy man. They are willing to forestall pressing me until that day. In fact, they are quite willing to extend my credit.”
We turned to idle chitchat for a time, during which he let fall that the lovely phaeton he had so recently overturned was yours-I am so sorry, Charles!
I changed horses at Merriton, and we were well on our way again when he said, “Sorry to have cut you out where the Bannister was concerned old boy. But I daresay my need was the more pressing. From all I hear, Rossiter, you’re as rich as Golden Ball.”
“No such thing,” I said coolly.
He chuckled. “No need to cut up stiff with me,” he said. “You’ve had your eye on her, haven’t you?”
“My dear Dallingham,” I said, “she is your wife. It would be most improper in me to respond to such a comment.”
In truth, Charles, she had come to my notice. However, unlike most women-who are drawn to me by my fortune and rank-she had no need of either. This being the case, I was sure I held no attraction to Miss Bannister. While I don’t suppose a great many children have been frightened by my visage, or told by their nursemaids that I shall come to steal them if they don’t mind their manners, I’ve not Dallingham’s handsome face.
I did not blame the ladies of the ton for being taken in by him, for I too readily remembered one beauty who flattered me into believing that all mirrors lie, and ’twas a heady experience. That was long after I’d had my town bronze, so what chance does a chit fresh from the schoolroom have against the influence of a handsome face?
By the time we arrived at Bingsley Hall, my spirits were quite low. These were by no means lifted when Dallingham, at the moment we passed the gatekeeper’s lodge, announced with a covetous eye, “She’s to inherit all this, too, you know! Bingsley dotes on her.”
I had every intention of leaving at the first possible moment, but Lord Bingsley would not hear of it. For my part, I could not help but like the old fellow and his lady, who proffered every kindness imaginable-the upshot of this being my acquiescence to the Bingsleys’ insistence that I stay the night. My relative was not expecting me at any certain date, and so I agreed to break my journey with them.
“Good man! For we’ve something of a celebration this night, haven’t we?” Lord Bingsley said, clapping Dallingham on the back.
Dallingham, who had apparently already met Lord Bingsley, seemed relieved not to be met by an outraged relative when introduced to his wife’s aunt. Lady Bingsley, if not quite as effusive as her husband, was nonetheless all that a hostess should be.
For her part, the former Miss Bannister seemed, as always, becomin
gly shy in the company of gentlemen, and to my own relief, was not at all demonstrative with her new spouse.
In fact, dear Charles, the two of them seldom looked at eachother. Dallingham was eyeing the thick carpets, the beautiful vases and charming chandelier with the air of a man who is calculating the price each might fetch at auction. One would have thought him a solicitor’s clerk, practicing the art of taking inventory of the Bingleys’ estate. He made little effort to hide his happy contemplation of taking possession of their goods upon their demise. He divided his time between this and the depletion of Lord Bingley’s cellars.
Watching him, I found myself seething, until I felt a gentle hand on my sleeve. “My dear Lord Rossiter,” the new Lady Dallingham said softly, “how glad I am that you have come.”
She moved away rather quickly, and spoke to her aunt, all the while blushing.
I did not suppose for a moment that Dallingham, a man whose name has been linked with two actresses and any number of fair Cyprians, thought her very lovely. She tended to plumpness, a little. Her face was not that of a classic beauty, and no one would mistake her for a diamond of the first water. But there are other gems than diamonds, my dear Charles, and I found much in her that was admirable and becoming.
I wanted to ask if something was troubling her, if there was any way in which I might be of service, but I had no opportunity for private speech with her that evening-which was, I tell you plainly, easily one of the strangest nights of my life.
We were beset by real difficulties at table that evening. Dallingham wasn’t paying the least attention to me or his wife; he was admiring the silver and china, repeatedly congratulating Lord Bingsley on his fine cellars, making gratifying comments to Lady Bingsley on the excellence of the soup á la reine, and remarking on the beauty of the epergne at the center of the table. (It depicted tigers chasing one another round about-not to my taste, frankly-don’t like to dine with figures of things that would just as soon dine on me.)
But just as the second course-a haunch of venison, saddle of lamb, boiled capon and spring chicken-was served, Lady Bingsley said in a ringing voice, “Pistols at dawn!”
Dallingham and I exchanged looks of some consternation, even as Lord Bingsley calmly replied, “You’ll never do me in that way, my dear.”
“I know a good deal about pistols,” her ladyship replied. “Don’t I, Amelia?”
“Yes, Aunt,” the former Miss Bannister replied.
“Yes, yes,” said his lordship, “but for all that you know about them, you are an execrable shot.” He continued to apply himself to the venison, even as her ladyship appeared to apply herself to the problem of shooting him. Dallingham, so far from being dismayed, seemed on the verge of losing any semblance of gravity still left to him, while his new wife calmly continued to take small bites of the lamb.
Within a few moments, his lordship looked up from his plate and said, “Arrow through the heart. While you sleep.”
“I must say-” I began weakly.
“Nonsense!” said her ladyship firmly.
“It is not nonsense!” protested my host. “I’m a demmed sight better with the bow and arrow that you are with pistols. I’ll creep into your room through that old priest’s hole.”
“Now, there you’re out!” said her ladyship. “The priest’s hole is in Lord Dallingham’s room-the exit, in any case.”
At this, Dallingham, who had been drinking steadily from the moment of our arrival, was overcome with mirth.
“I find nothing amusing…” I tried again.
“By Jupiter!” his lordship said, “You’re right! Hmm. In that case, it shall have to be something more subtle. Perhaps when you go riding-”
“Please!” I said. “Your lordship, your ladyship…I beg pardon…not my place, really…but I can’t possibly face the next course if there is to be nothing but this talk of murder!”
There was a moment of profound silence before his lordship said, “Not face the next course? Rubbish! There’s to be lark pudding!”
And so the exchange of murder plots continued. I would have made good on my threat to excuse myself from the table, lark pudding or no, had not the former Miss Bannister looked at me so beseechingly, I forgot all else.
By the time the ladies retired to the drawing room and Lord Bingsley offered his excellent port, though, I had heard our hosts exchange no fewer than twenty threats of foul play, and had decided to leave this odd household by first light, beseeching looks or no. Miss Bannister had married a bounder, but it was his place to take her away from such humbuggery, not mine.
But Dallingham was extremely well to live by then, as the saying goes-or at least, in too much of a drunken stupor to converse. Other than expending the effort required to continue to drink, he seemed to be using whatever powers of concentration remained to him to prevent himself from falling face first into the table linen he so admired.
Sitting there over port, blowing a cloud with his lordship, I sought an excuse for an early departure. But as if reading my mind, his lordship said, “Must forgive us, Rossiter. Her ladyship and I are not much in company, as you must know. You are outraged, as any good man would be.” He paused, and looking at Dallingham, said in a low voice, “Unlike yon jackanapes! Were I twenty years younger, I’d darken his daylights! But here…well, we keep the ladies waiting. I only mean to ask you-nay, beg you-and I’m not a man who often begs!-beg you to see your way clear to remain with us another day or two.”
“My dear Lord Bingsley-” I began, but in what was becoming a habit in him, he interrupted.
“For Amelia’s sake!” he whispered, then added, in a normal speaking voice, “You’ll grow used to our havey-cavey ways, I’m sure.”
I bowed to a man who-as I was to learn-was a masterful persuader.
Two stout footmen carried the jug-bitten Lord Dallingham to his chambers that night. That his wife slept apart from him did not surprise me in the least-I only hoped that she had locked the door against him.
He did not appear at breakfast, when Lord Bingsley asked if I would be so good as to accompany his niece, who wished to ride her mare about the estate. “Going to miss Bingsley Hall, she tells me. By God, Bingsley Hall shall miss her!”
“Perhaps Lord Dallingham would like to join us,” I suggested.
“Daresay he would,” Lord Bingsley said, “if he hadn’t eaten Hull cheese! My valet informs me he shot the cat! Too blind to find the basin like a decent fellow, damn him. Wonder if he’ll be so fond of that carpet now!”
“I-I believe I shall find Miss-Lady Dallingham,” I said, feeling a bit queasy myself.
He offered to accompany me to the stables. We delayed some moments on the steps to exchange pleasantries with Lady Bingsley, who was to call upon an ailing tenant that morning. His lordship, determinining that there was some slight chill in the air, begged her to wait while her maid should fetch a shawl, and once this item was retrieved, solicitously placed it about his lady’s shoulders. He handed her up into the carriage, and her little dog as well, and then a large hamper of food for the tenant’s family, and, after receiving assurances from the coachman that he would not drive too fast over the country lanes, stood watching the carriage as it pulled away.
At the stables, he saw to it that I was very handsomely mounted on a fine gelding. I assisted his niece-who wore a delightful blue velvet riding habit-with her mare, and in the company of a groom who stayed some distance behind us, we rode out.
Lord Bingsley’s lands were in good heart, and if I had been Dallingham, no doubt I would have been estimating their yields. But my mind was wholly taken up with the thought that I had forever lost the opportunity to ask the woman beside me to become Lady Rossiter.
“How do you fare this morning, Lady Dallingham?” I asked, trying to accept that fact.
“Oh, please do not address me by that hateful name!”
“Hateful? But-”
“May I count you my friend, sir?”
“Most certainly! If th
ere is any service I may render-”
“I am afraid, Lord Rossiter, that I have been duped.”
“By me?” I asked, aghast.
“Oh, no, Lord Rossiter! Never by you!”
“I don’t understand, Lady…er, beg pardon, but I don’t know quite how one should address-”
“Amelia,” she said. “I should like it above all things if you would call me Amelia.”
“Very well, Amelia, and you shall please call me Christopher-no, dash it! Call me Kit.”
“Do your friends call you Kit?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, Kit,” she said-and by the saints and angels, Charles, she could have asked for the world from that moment on. She didn’t.
“I am so sorry that a man of your sensibilities was forced to…to accustom himself to the odd behavior of my aunt and uncle,” she said. “They mean well, but-”
“Mean well! Talking of poison and setting traps with old armor or contriving to make a fellow walk beneath loose roof tiles!”
“Oh, Kit, no! They are trying to get me to show a little-I believe Uncle calls it ‘rumgumption.’”
“I beg pardon?” I said, all at sea.
“Oh, I know I shouldn’t use cant-”
“No, no, I mean-I don’t mind it-the cant, I mean-but what the blazes have you to do with their plans to do one another a mischief?”
“One another? Oh no, Kit-”
“Discussing-over the syllabub, mind you-how they’re going to put a period to the other’s existence!”
“But that is not what they are about, Kit! I am sure…that is, I begin to wonder…well, the thing of it is, perhaps I should murder Harry!”
“What!”
“Oh, yes. It’s the only way out of this tangle I’m in.”