Marchington Scandal
Page 18
“No. Come, Tony, I am not a schoolgirl. I don’t indulge in distempered freaks. You can trust me with this terrible secret.”
He grinned in earnest this time. “Yes, that’s what you think, but in your calm way you do far more unconventional things than any hoyden.” Under her answering glare, he capitulated. “Oh, very well, I suppose it can’t do any real harm. They are to meet tomorrow morning, out on the Heath.”
“What time, precisely, and where?”
“Katharine—”
“Tony, I am asking your help in this small thing, and nothing more. I could find out what I want to know elsewhere, but it is far easier and pleasanter to ask you.”
He acknowledged the truth of this with a sigh. “All right. At six. And I can direct you to the place, if you must know it.”
“Thank you.”
“But what are you planning, Katharine? I don’t like the look in your eye.”
“I shan’t say. Then you can honestly claim that you haven’t any idea, if anyone should ask you.”
Tony groaned. “I can’t decide whether I am glad of that, or sorry. I expect I shall be sorry before long.”
“Nonsense. Now, tell me how to reach the place.”
Reluctantly he did so, in the end sketching a map for her to use. With that in hand, she dismissed him and went up to her bedchamber to write a reassuring note to Elinor. Then she put on her bonnet once more and went out to make an unusual call. She returned home in time for luncheon, looking well satisfied, and afterward retired to her studio for the entire afternoon.
***
The next morning, Katharine was up very early, dressed for riding. She had warned the stable that she meant to take out her mare first thing, and the horse was saddled and waiting when she came out, one of the grooms prepared to accompany her. They rode through the empty morning streets in the direction of Hampstead Heath. Katharine quickened the pace once they were away from the house, then suddenly paused at a corner some distance along the way. The groom looked puzzled, but being well trained, he said nothing.
In a short space, another rider appeared, a husky commercial-looking gentleman mounted on a brown hack. He raised his hat to Katharine, who greeted him briefly, and they continued on together, the groom looking more and more confused.
They reached the edge of the Heath as the sun was rising a few minutes before six. Katharine urged her mare to a canter and led the way along the road, up a lane, and finally off onto a track that looked as if it had seen little traffic lately. Here she slowed and motioned for silence.
They soon came to a small copse, and Katharine dismounted, leading her horse toward a tree where several others were already tied. Indicating that the groom should hold their mounts, she urged her other companion on with a gesture and began to walk swiftly around the trees to the clearing that could be just glimpsed beyond. Voices could be heard in that direction.
They emerged to find a curious scene. In the cool dawn light Tom Marchington stood with his coat buttoned up to his chin. He was facing them, but it was clear that he noticed nothing but Lord Stonenden, who stood with his back to Katharine not far away.
Three other men clustered on the left, their eyes on the two combatants. One of them was holding a handkerchief at arm’s length. Katharine surged forward, but before she could voice the cry in her throat, the handkerchief dropped and two shots rang out. Smoke from the pistols floated in the cool air, but not so as to obscure Katharine’s view. She had seen Lord Stonenden fire straight upward, and she had seen Tom aim directly at the other man and, appallingly, hit him!
“No!” she shouted, completing her cry and her step at the same time. “Tom, you fool!”
All of the men whirled to stare at her, but Katharine could think only of Stonenden. He had fallen to his knees at Tom’s shot, and he remained there, holding his left forearm against his chest. Katharine ran to kneel beside him. “Are you all right? Where are you hit?” In her concern, she put both hands on his upper arm.
Stonenden looked bemused. “What are you doing here?” A trickle of blood began to drip slowly from the lower edge of his coat sleeve.
“That doesn’t matter. How badly are you hurt?” She started to turn back the sleeve.
“Here, here, let me,” said someone behind her. “I am a doctor. Let me look.”
“It’s nothing,” murmured Stonenden. “A scratch. The bullet grazed my forearm.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” The doctor knelt beside him as Katharine moved out of the way. He slit the sleeve and exposed a nasty deep scratch along Stonenden’s forearm. “Hah,” he said. “Not too bad. But why you gentlemen must stand up and shoot one another, I shall never understand. Pure madness.” He opened his bag and began to work on the wound.
Somewhat reassured, Katharine turned on Tom. He stood in the same spot, the pistol dangling from his limp hand. He looked dazed and frightened. “You idiot!” exclaimed Katharine, marching up to him and pulling the gun away. “You might have killed him. Have you lost all common sense? Have you indeed gone mad? You shot a man, and for what?”
Tom blinked several times and seemed to focus on her finally. “Wh-what are you doing here?” He looked around nervously. “Elinor’s not here, is she?”
“Of course she is not. Do you think me as stupid as you? She knows nothing about it. I came here for her, to try to stop you. Unfortunately, I was too late. Oh, I am so angry I don’t know what to say to you. How could you, Tom? How could you?”
“Do you want me to fetch a constable?” The man who had accompanied Katharine had approached, and it was he who spoke. “We can have him up on charges in a trice,” he added.
Katharine sighed angrily. “I wish we might. But Elinor would never forgive me. You go scot-free, Tom. But you don’t deserve it!”
“He fired in the air,” murmured Tom, still seemingly amazed by this fact. “He didn’t even try to hit me.”
“Of course he did not! Lord Stonenden is a sensible man. You could force a quarrel on him, but you could not make him a fool like yourself.”
This statement appeared to affect Tom powerfully, but whether for the good or bad, Katharine wasn’t sure. He started as she spoke, looked around the clearing, then began to scowl.
The doctor had finished wrapping Stonenden’s arm by this time, and the latter had risen to his feet. The whole group congregated ground Tom and Katharine, and one of the seconds said, “We are quits, then. We declare ourselves satisfied.”
“Do we?” growled Tom.
“Yes, we do, Marchington. Or if you do not, I wash my hands of you. And you won’t find anyone else to second you again, either.”
Tom glowered at the ground.
“Come along,” continued the other. “Let us go back to town and forget this ridiculous quarrel.”
Tom seemed about to speak, but his second took his arm and forcibly propelled him toward where the horses were waiting. As they departed, the other second said, “I’ll go fetch a carriage, Oliver. You can’t ride with that arm.”
“Nonsense, of course I can. I was only stunned for a moment. I am perfectly all right now.”
“I would recommend a vehicle,” put in the doctor. “The wound is slight, but—”
“I’ll get one straightaway,” replied the other, and he hurried off.
“I would also recommend that you sit down,” the doctor went on.
“Oh, take yourself off,” snapped his patient. “I shan’t sit in this wet grass, if that is what you mean, and I am perfectly recovered. You may go in good conscience.”
The man looked offended. “I shall certainly not leave until you have been conveyed safely home. I shall wait with the horses.”
“Do so,” retorted Stonenden.
The doctor walked away, and Lord Stonenden turned eagerly to Katharine, but his words and manner in the previous moments had brought back all her anger and outrage of the morning, and her face was stony. “I must go,” she said.
He looked surprised. “At once?”
“And what of me?” replied Stonenden.
Katharine looked up at him quickly, then dropped her eyes again. “I thank you, of course, for firing in the air. On behalf of my family.”
“You can’t have thought I would do anything else. I met that young idiot only to teach him a lesson. I also failed, of course. He is remarkably hardheaded.” His eyebrows came together. “In fact, why these alarms and excursions? Don’t you think you might have left this affair to me?”
Realizing that she should have, but still very angry at him, Katharine tossed her head. “How was I to know that you would be magnanimous? You so rarely are. And besides, Tom might have actually killed you.”
“I see. And you came to be sure that he got out of the country having done so, I suppose. Is that this gentleman’s function?” He nodded at Katharine’s companion, who was still standing nearby. The man tipped his hat and smiled ingratiatingly.
“No, of course not,” snapped Katharine. “Mr. Rule is a private inquiry agent my father once mentioned to me. I brought him along in case I wanted to report to the authorities. Or to help me get Tom to come away, if he wouldn’t.”
Stonenden almost smiled. “Ah. And why did you not simply blow the whistle on us at once?”
Katharine looked icily up at him. “I am not such a cawker. I did not wish to have anyone arrested, but if that was the only way to stop you…”
He nodded. “Well, I admit I am glad it did not come to that. It would be humiliating to stand before a magistrate at my age and admit this silliness.”
“You call a duel silliness?” She glared at him.
“Call it what you like. I don’t seem to be able to find any phrase that pleases you.”
Suddenly breathless at the pained understanding in his eyes, Katharine turned away. “I must go back. If you will excuse me…”
“I appear to have no choice.”
She glanced quickly over her shoulder, then strode away. Her feelings were in such turmoil that she could not continue to talk with him. She still felt anger, but it was now confusingly mingled with a great many other emotions, the foremost of which was admiration. He had behaved splendidly this morning; she could not but be conscious of that. And he had received nothing but a gunshot wound for his trouble. Yet he remained self-possessed and kind. His sharp words to the doctor she discounted; she hated to be fussed over herself. Indeed, as she had stood looking up at him, she had been suddenly possessed of a strong desire to walk into his arms and be held, forgetting all the confusions and misunderstandings of the last few days.
But with these feelings had come a vision of the Countess Standen as she had seen her yesterday, coming out of Stonenden’s house in the early morning. And this picture destroyed the others. Perhaps Stonenden had changed; perhaps he was now a much more admirable man than he had been five years ago. But this had nothing to do with her. He might be kind to her and respect her talent, but his love went elsewhere.
With this thought, Katharine felt such a surge of misery that she almost stumbled. And in that moment, she knew that she had not been facing the truth about her emotions.
She loved Oliver Stonenden, despite the countess, despite everything. She had loved him for quite a time now. The feeling had been building without her conscious knowledge, during their pleasant hours in her studio, and now it was too powerful to be denied. Yet there was no hope in the world for it.
Reaching her horse, Katharine quickly mounted, and she was off down the lane almost before her groom could follow. In her turmoil, she was grateful for the loneliness of the Heath. She urged her mare to a wild gallop in an effort to wipe all thought from her mind.
She did not succeed. Her Cousin Mary’s expression when she walked into the drawing room was enough to tell Katharine that. But Elinor Marchington was also there—she had called to be reassured yet again about Tom—so there was no chance for private conversation.
“Oh, Katharine, Tom went out before dawn this morning,” said Elinor as soon as she saw her cousin. “I am so frightened. It must be—”
“Tom is all right,” replied Katharine wearily. “The duel was this morning. I saw it. Tom went away unhurt.”
“You saw it?” gasped the younger girl.
“Katharine!” echoed Mary Daltry.
Katharine sank into a chair and pulled off her hat. She was suddenly so exhausted she could hardly speak. “Yes. I went because there was nothing else to do. I hoped to stop it, but I didn’t. Lord Stonenden is slightly wounded.”
Elinor shrieked. Mary merely looked very steadily at her charge.
“It is all right,” Katharine went on. “Only a scratch. Tom was very lucky that it was no more. He behaved abominably. He must be stopped, but I can’t think how it may be done.”
“B-but what will Lord Stonenden do?” asked Elinor.
“What do you mean?”
“He is such a…such a frightening man. Won’t he try to get revenge on Tom? He might—”
“This ‘frightening man,’” snapped Katharine, “fired in the air today, and he met your appalling husband only in the hopes of teaching him a lesson. He will do nothing. But I was tempted to deliver Tom to a magistrate, I may tell you, and see how he liked that.”
Elinor quailed before the anger in her eyes. “I…I’m sorry,” she murmured, clearly uncertain how she had offended.
“No, no, I am sorry, Elinor.” Katharine rubbed her forehead with one hand. It seemed she couldn’t bear to hear Stonenden criticized, a development which merely intensified her misery. “I am tired, I think. And discouraged. I wish I could think of some new way to help you.”
But Elinor shook her head. “You have done so much. I could not ask any more of you, especially after today. No, I am beginning to think that Lady Agnes’s visit was for the best after all. Tom will not listen to anyone here in London; perhaps he will listen to his father.”
“Is Sir Lionel coming up to town, then?” asked Mary.
“Yes, I got a note today. He and Lady Agnes will arrive on Tuesday. It will be terrible.” She shuddered. “I don’t know how I will bear it. But I cannot think of anything else to try.” She drooped a little, looking absurdly young. “Indeed, I am almost glad sometimes that they are coming. It seems to take a great burden off my shoulders. I need only manage through two more days, and then they will take over.”
Katharine felt a certain relief herself. Though she deplored the elder Marchingtons’ attitudes and methods, if they could control Tom now, she would forgive them a great deal. “I wish I might have helped you more,” she told Elinor.
“Oh, no. You did too much as it was. And I do thank you.”
“I don’t see that I did anything,” answered the other with a wry smile. “All my plans failed.”
“But you kept up my spirits. And you taught me so much.”
“I?”
“Yes, about how to act and what to think and…and everything!”
Katharine stared at her, astonished.
“You did, Cousin Katharine. Indeed, I don’t feel nearly as low at the idea of seeing Tom’s parents as I would have before.”
“Well, I am glad of that. But I cannot think that I had much to do with it, Elinor. You have grown up a little, that is all.” She thought of the shambles she had made of her own life and added, “I truly hope you have not taken me as your model. I make a poor one.”
As Elinor protested this, Mary Daltry gazed quietly at Katharine, and when the younger girl took her leave a few minutes later, Mary came to sit closer to her cousin’s chair, saying, “Tell me what is wrong, Katharine. I can see that it is something serious.”
Katharine looked up, meeting her compassionate eyes. Her first thought was to evade the question and escape to her bedchamber. She felt tears close to surfacing. But the real sympathy she saw changed her mind, making her realize that she ne
eded to tell someone about the turmoil she was experiencing.
Taking a breath, Katharine repeated what she had discovered about herself that morning. It was very difficult to say. She faltered often, and once had to pause to fight tears. But at last it was out. She bent her head and drew a deep shaky breath.
“My dear…” said Mary, taking one of her hands and squeezing it.
“Yes, it is a dreadful tangle, is it not? And I thought myself immune to such things after Robert died.”
“But, Katharine, why should it be so dreadful? As you say, Lord Stonenden seems much improved. He strikes me as an admirable man. And I do think there may be some sort of misunderstanding about the countess. He told me—”
“There is no misunderstanding. I have not told you what happened when I tried to see him about the duel.” She proceeded to do so.
Mary Daltry frowned. “Are you certain…? Well, but of course you are. I cannot explain it.”
Katharine laughed hollowly. “I can. It is only too obvious that Lord Stonenden is in love with the countess. I daresay they may marry; she is a widow now, after all. But even if they do not…” She spread her hands. But despite her bitter certainty, she somehow hoped that Mary might contradict her, might see some explanation that she had overlooked.
Mary, however, seemed lost in her own thoughts. She appeared to be going over something in her mind, pondering each step. “I don’t know,” she murmured to herself, “I simply do not know.”
Katharine laughed shortly again and rose to her feet. “I know, though I truly wish I did not. I should never have entered society again. I knew it, but I let myself be persuaded. And the consequence is, I haven’t helped Elinor one jot, and I have ruined myself.” And with this, she ran from the room.
Twenty
Mary Daltry was very quiet during the following afternoon. Katharine hardly noticed; she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts and, in any case, she spent much of it shut in her studio. But she was surprised when her older cousin decided to go out in the evening.
“Well, dear,” said Mary, looking a little self-conscious, “it is Julia Anson’s musical party, you know, and I did promise her I would attend. It isn’t important, of course, and if you wish me to stay with you…”