A Rival Heir

by Laura Matthews

  “No, no, merely quiet and without some of the conveniences of the more recent squares and the Crescent. If you’re headed in that direction, I should be pleased to escort you home.”

  Aunt Longstreet hesitated and Nell did nothing to indicate her preference in the matter. Her aunt was so contrary that if Nell were to say, “Oh, that would be kind of you,” her aunt would probably dismiss the young man on the instant! But Aunt Longstreet must have had a reason to accommodate the fellow, for she said at length, “Very well. We were through with our errands for the morning.”

  The distance between Milsom Street and Queen Square was no more than a few blocks. Aunt Longstreet, despite the cane, was not one to dawdle, so they covered the whole of it in less than ten minutes. Nell would have enjoyed strolling along looking into the shop windows and thus extending for a few more moments what had proved ultimately to be an exceptionally pleasant excursion, but her aunt scorned such a waste of time. Sir Hugh kept up a steady stream of inconsequential chatter about the town and its pleasures.

  “I trust you’ve signed the Master of Ceremony’s book,” he said as they came within sight of No. 10.

  “No, why should we?” Aunt Longstreet demanded. “We’re not here for the dancing.”

  “You don’t intend to visit the Lower Rooms?”

  “Certainly not. Too expensive, too crowded, too hot. I know what these rooms are, and I cannot think I would find any pleasure in them.”

  Sir Hugh frowned. “Perhaps you would not, Miss Longstreet, but your companion most assuredly would. Miss Armstrong is young and needs to meet others of her age. You cannot bring her from the wilds of Westmorland to such a lively place as Bath and expect her to do no more than dance attendance upon you.”

  Nell flushed at such a harsh rendering of the situation. Though it was more or less true, she would never, ever have said anything of the sort. She was wholly dependent upon Aunt Longstreet and she had known from the time the expedition was planned that her aunt could no more be expected to put herself out to chaperone her niece to the assemblies in Bath than she could be expected to fly. At the time the arrangements were made, however, Nell had believed that it would be quite enough for her to see all the glories of the town. She had never suspected how much she would long to partake of the glamorous entertainments.

  Aunt Longstreet was unaccustomed to criticism of her actions. She scowled at Sir Hugh and informed him that it was no business of his what she did. “Helen has neither the inclination nor the wardrobe to be gallivanting off to dances in strange towns with strange men for partners. She is of a serious, not a frivolous, disposition.”

  Sir Hugh turned to Nell, but she lowered her gaze before his intense scrutiny, and said nothing. “I see,” he murmured at length. “Well, I wish you a pleasant stay in Bath, Miss Longstreet. Please do not hesitate to call upon me if I may be of any service to you.”

  “I’m sure we shall not be in need of any services which you could provide,” Aunt Longstreet sniffed as she thumped her cane against the door of their rented house.

  “Your servant, Miss Armstrong,” he said, bowing politely.

  After such a pointed rebuff, Nell doubted the would see the man ever again. She felt an unaccountable pang, whether from continuing embarrassment or regret, she wasn’t sure. “Thank you for the lovely pastries, Sir Hugh, and for seeing us home.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He turned then, as though easily dismissing them from his mind, and strolled off down the street.

  Chapter Two

  But Sir Hugh was far from dismissing the two ladies from his mind. He had been acquainted with Miss Longstreet from the moment of his birth, and he had a good knowledge of her character. Though she had doted on him as child and young lad, she had pretty much dismissed him when he reached an age to join the adult world. Sir Hugh suspected that Miss Longstreet wasn’t over-fond of men in general.

  He did remember with pleasure the summers he had visited at Longstreet Manor as a child. Of course, Miss Longstreet’s parents had still been alive then, and with their complicity he had been indulged most shamefully. They kept a pony for him when he was very young, and a horse as he grew older. Perhaps that was the lure which drew him to Longstreet Manor—that horse he had been so fond of.

  His own parents were kindly but not so indulgent as the elder Longstreets and their spinster daughter. Every treat was provided for his entertainment and enjoyment—games of cricket with the neighboring boys, visits to the closest market town to find him a special pair of riding gloves, an extensive library put at his disposal. They were halcyon days, remembered with great fondness. His sister Emily had greatly envied him those visits, as she was not included in the annual invitation.

  Sir Hugh had not intended to head for his apartments in the Crescent, but he found himself turning from Gay Street into the Circus, and, shrugging, continued around the circle to Brook Street. Even now he could have changed his mind, as his friend Hopkins had rooms along that very block, but Sir Hugh found himself unwilling to disrupt his train of thought. There was something most unusual about finding his godmother in Bath, and he had every intention of figuring out what had brought her there.

  No one was going to hoax him into believing that she was there for the waters. He was well aware that Miss Longstreet suffered occasionally from the gout, but he believed he knew her well enough to realize that she would not come such a distance away from her home on the off chance that the mineral waters would dissipate her goutish pains. She was far too complacent about her own physical condition to make any such effort. It was his impression that Miss Longstreet prided herself on her ability to withstand any amount of discomfort. Attempting to alleviate it by such an exercise as taking the waters in a town so far from Longstreet Manor simply didn’t ring true.

  And there was the niece—Miss Armstrong. He had known his godmother had taken in an impoverished relative, but he had believed the woman to be much more advanced in years than the young lady he’d met in Milsom Street. He had, in fact, supposed her to be much closer in age to her benefactor. Sir Hugh was not at all sure he liked the idea of Miss Armstrong, who could be no more than twenty-four or twenty-five, ingratiating herself with his godmother.

  An odd sort of girl she was, too. Not willing to speak up for herself, and yet not entirely cowed by Miss Longstreet, he thought. Sir Hugh suspected that there was more to the young woman than appeared beneath her air of quiet composure. No doubt Miss Armstrong had learned to “manage” her patron, neither opposing nor distressing the cantankerous lady, but not giving Miss Longstreet a dislike of her by proving mealy-mouthed, either. Rosemarie Longstreet would not tolerate a weakling around her.

  Yes, Sir Hugh suspected Miss Armstrong had used her many years with that good lady to advantage; she had determined to a nicety just how far she dared go with his godmother and yet retain that woman’s esteem. And, loath though he was to admit it, he felt a certain anxiety.

  Sir Hugh had long believed that he was to inherit his godmother’s estate. That had been the intention when his own parents chose Miss Longstreet as his godmother. His mother and Miss Longstreet had become fast friends during their comeouts in London lo these many years ago. And apparently by the time Hugh was born there was no question but that Miss Longstreet was become an old maid and that she would inherit Longstreet Manor. Since that delightful estate must devolve somewhere, why not to Sir Hugh? Now it had come as something of a shock to realize how much he’d come to count on that expectation.

  “Oh, Hugh, I had thought to catch you at the library,” a lilting voice informed him before he had raised his frowning gaze from the pavement to notice that his sister was approaching.

  “Had you, by Jove? And why had you reason to believe you would find me there, Emily?”

  “Because you told Hammer that is where you were headed.” She cocked her head at him, her blue eyes, so like his own, challenging. “I trust you found something enlightening there, for I know you would scorn to w
aste your time reading a novel.”

  “Actually, I found my godmother there, berating the librarian because she could not carry off the current Peerage.”

  “Miss Longstreet is here, in Bath?”

  “You may well be shocked, my dear sister. Who would have thought it, eh? But indeed it was she, accompanied by a Miss Armstrong, the woman who has lived with her these past ten years.”

  Emily’s gaze sharpened. “A woman not to your taste, Hugh?”

  “As to that, she’s a trifle tall for my liking, but it was her age that surprised me. She cannot be more than five and twenty.”

  Her brows rose. “So young? And how does she cope with Miss Longstreet’s vile temper?”

  “That’s what I’ve just been musing on, my dear.” He glanced at the footman who was following to accompany his mistress on her errands. “Send Williams home and I’ll walk you to the library if you wish.”

  “Very well.” When the footman had been dismissed, Emily Holmsly linked arms with her brother, peering curiously up at him. “Something you didn’t want Williams to hear, Hugh?”

  He shrugged. “I have less tolerance for being the subject of servants’ gossip than you do, Emily dearest.”

  A flush rose to her cheeks. “Really, Hugh, that is unjust. I have never given my servants the least reason to gossip about me, I assure you.”

  “Have you not? I wonder, then, that one should hear your name bandied about so freely in the Pump Room. Yesterday, there was something about a cicisbeo being slapped by you, I believe.”

  “Well, my word! That is the outside of enough!” she exclaimed, indignant. “My name is muddied because Frederickson goes beyond the line of what is pleasing. Really, Hugh, you should rather have a word with that ramshackle young man. He tried to kiss me! Word of honor, I did nothing to encourage him.”

  “Nothing but be the most adorable woman in town, with a habit of attracting men of his caliber like filings to a magnet.” He waved aside her protest. “No, no, don’t tell me it is not your fault. I quite understand that you are unable to protect yourself from such hangers on. I believe Holmsly would do well to take a little better care of you.”

  To his vast surprise, tears sprang to her eyes and she dug awkwardly in her reticule for a handkerchief. She turned aside from him, dabbing at her eyes, and eventually discreetly blew her nose on the flimsy piece of fabric. “Holmsly,” she managed to say, “is from town—again.”

  “Devil take the man! I thought he had brought you here to spend a little time in your company after your confinement. Where’s he off to now?”

  “Bristol, apparently.” She tucked her handkerchief back in her reticule and schooled her lovely face to a look of acceptance. “Business, of course. He indicated that he would be gone no more than a week.”

  “A week! There’s very little business one could take more than a day to conclude in Bristol, I swear.” He tried to erase the frown from his brow, taking his sister’s arm and twining it once again with his. “No matter. I’ve seen how proud he is of his son, Emily. You mustn’t fret at his absence. How is the babe?”

  “Thriving.” She sighed but a rueful smile peeped out. “I was about to take Frederickson to see the baby, Hugh, when he tried to kiss me. Really, a new mama! What could he have been thinking of?”

  “Heaven knows. I’ll have a word with him.”

  “No, truly, that won’t be necessary. He did not at all like being slapped.”

  “I dare say. I shouldn’t myself.”

  “Just as well Holmsly is away,” she said philosophically. “By the time he returns it will all be forgotten, I dare say. But you were going to tell me about Miss Longstreet’s young companion.”

  “So I was.” Sir Hugh took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. “I very much fear that Miss Armstrong may be in a way to edging me out of my supposed inheritance.”

  Emily halted abruptly, her gaze flying up to his very serious countenance. “Surely not! Why, it was decided eons ago that you were to be her heir.”

  “Yes, but these arrangements can be changed, my dear. She is not obliged to leave me her fortune—any more than she is obliged to stick her spoon in the wall any time soon for my convenience.”

  “Oh, treacherous!” his sister pronounced. “She knows you have expectations from her. Are you quite certain, Hugh?”

  “No.” His thoughtful frown furrowed what Emily had once declared his ‘noble brow.’ “There is no knowing what’s afoot—especially with my godmother. Since she has taken me in aversion I’ve wondered if she might not look elsewhere to leave her worldly goods. But I would give a great deal to know if she has changed her will.”

  “Then I shall find out for you,” Emily declared. “I shall insinuate myself into her household.—You know that no one is able to resist Walter—I shall take him to visit her tomorrow morning—he’s at his best in the morning—and become fast friends with Miss Armstrong. See if I don’t. And then I shall quiz her, in a most subtle and delicate way, until I have gathered all the information you require, my dear.”

  “Subtle? Delicate? These are words I never expected to hear fall from your lips, my fantastical sister. I trust you will do no such thing. The poor girl is in need of someone to befriend her, not an avenging inquisitor.”

  “I can see no reason to befriend her when she’s attempting to do you out of your inheritance!”

  Sir Hugh grimaced. “My dear Emily, anyone who has managed to suffer with Miss Longstreet for ten years is deserving of everything she may lay claim to. I don’t say that the girl has any intention of becoming Miss Longstreet’s heir, just that I would not be at all surprised if she were. It would delight my godmother to have sufficient reason—in her own mind—to disinherit me. My being a grown man was perhaps not quite as adequate an excuse as she would have liked.”

  “Miserable old sourpuss! Well, I am not a man, and Walter is but an infant, so we shall introduce ourselves into their household and learn the whole. See if we don’t!”

  “You terrify me,” he objected, but with an amused shake of his head. “Still, I suppose it could do no harm if you were to make a morning call, Emily. I very much fear that Miss Longstreet intends to keep her companion pretty closely tied to her. You would be doing a good deed to rescue the girl from my godmother for an hour or two.”

  Emily nodded conspiratorily. “You’re right. She’s much more likely to let her tongue wag if she’s not in the presence of that old ogre. Trust me, Hugh.”

  “God help us,” he sighed, and turned the subject.

  * * * *

  It was Aunt Longstreet’s habit to get to the Pump Room early. Mostly, Nell believed, because she wished to see as few people as possible. Her aunt drank the required two glasses of water with little sign of enjoyment, and then usually urged her companion away as quickly as possible.

  The day after their disastrous trip to the library, Aunt Longstreet professed an interest in the Abbey Churchyard which aroused Nell’s suspicions. Aunt Longstreet was not, despite her avowed interest in tradition, much given to scouting out churches and abbeys.

  While they awaited a break in the constant stream of carriages and carts, they were approached by a young man who looked vaguely familiar to Nell. He tipped his curly beaver hat to them and offered to see them safely across the road.

  “Do you take us for a pair of ninnyhammers, sir?” Aunt Longstreet demanded.

  “Not at all, ma’am,” he assured her, the color rising in his cheeks. “But I believe you may be visitors to Bath and unfamiliar with such heavy traffic as we are accustomed to from the Oxford and London roads. Perhaps I might be of some use in escorting you across.”

  “I cannot see how,” Aunt Longstreet grumbled. “Unless, of course, you was willing to rush out in front of a carriage and be run over. That would probably stop ‘em.”

  “Aunt!” Nell protested. Turning to the young man, she said, “Thank you, sir. We had best simply wait for a break in the traffic, I think.”


  He smiled at her, and bowed, and went on his way.

  Only then did Nell realize that he was the young librarian from the previous day. She sighed in despair at her aunt behaving so badly to him not once now, but twice. Really, it was too bad of her.

  When at length the two women managed to cross the road, Nell was not surprised to find her aunt giving the Abbey Churchyard short shrift. “Very nice, very nice,” the older woman muttered as she plodded past the magnificent stone edifice with its delightful stained glass windows. With each step Aunt Longstreet poked her cane at the pavement as though she intended to punish if for any difficulties she found in walking. Despite the effort her niece knew it to be, she continued past the Abbey and on to the Orange Grove, pausing only briefly before turning toward the Grand Parade overlooking the Parade Gardens.

  “Perhaps we should find a sedan chair for you, Aunt Longstreet,” Nell suggested diffidently. “We’ve come rather far afield.”

  “Nonsense. I’m perfectly capable of walking a few blocks. Does my constitution good.”

  But in fact Nell could see that her aunt was flagging. “Very well, but I should like to sit here on the bench for a moment to survey the Gardens.”

  Her aunt did not object to being seated on the slatted wooden bench, but her gaze fell on the houses nearby rather than on the gardens. “I suppose one would have to be pretty well to grass to afford one of those places,” she said dismissively. “Can’t think why anyone would want to live in Bath the year round. It’s well enough for a month’s visit, I suppose, but who could bear to hear the rattling of all those carriages and carts day after day?”

  “One may become accustomed to them,” Nell suggested. “And they are lovely houses. I find the golden stone so very warm and attractive. My guidebook says that one of these houses belongs to the Earl of Kentforth.”

  “Humph!” Aunt Longstreet grumbled, but her gaze sharpened as the door of a nearby house opened and an elegant man strode forth. “No doubt that is he right now,” she mocked.