The Dutiful Daughter

by Vanessa Gray

  And somehow, he brooded, he would get the money to pay off Stoddard. He would also, beyond any doubt, stay well away from any of Stoddard’s friends, for Francis clung to his lesson learned as a limpet to a rock.

  But Stoddard, in London, was unaware that he had given Francis any loophole. Stoddard’s own affairs were not prospering, and he had the gambler’s fear that Lady Luck would leave him. Perhaps she had already begun her withdrawal, but had given him one last chance. Stoddard, aflame with the idea of an innocent heiress in the wilds of Kent, had grasped his last chance of avoiding financial disaster as a braver man had once plucked the nettle Danger.

  He had by the most propitious circumstances found that Hensley was in his debt. The amount was not great, certainly not enough to settle Stoddard’s future, but by great good chance he had learned of Chloe’s inheritance.

  Stoddard, never a modest man, was inordinately pleased with his machinations, overlooking the fact that when Hensley fell into his grasp he had not known about Chloe’s inheritance. Stoddard was sure, following his last encounter with Francis, that the way to Chloe’s heart, and purse, would be paved this time.

  Stoddard arrived at Rothwell Manor, expecting all to be ready for his benefit. He had not heard of any change in Francis’s own luck, and he was certain that Francis, being a man of self-preserving qualities, would have made all ready for Julian’s descent upon Rothwell Manor.

  However, Lady Luck played Julian Stoddard false. He returned to find that he was not the only man in possession of the information about Chloe’s inheritance. He was unaware that Thaddeus Invers was already on the scene, with a determination for his own benefit quite as strong as Julian’s. At the moment when Stoddard was turning into the drive, Thaddeus Invers was already at the house. He had planned an outing, riding out from the inn at town to invite the Rothwells to a nearby ruined abbey. Edward, possibly feeling there was safety in numbers, was encouraging Invers, as opposed to Francis Hensley.

  Lady Rothwell, constitutionally averse to jolting her bones over rough roads, as she was prone to say, yet felt that she dared not allow Chloe to be in sole company of Thaddeus Invers, and decided to accompany the picnic party. She had the strong feeling that Hensley needed to be prodded into doing his duty, and if he didn’t know what was best for him, she did, and would have to see that it happened.

  Julian Stoddard rode up the gravel drive, whistling in optimistic anticipation, and arrived at the front of the house to survey an astonishing and daunting scene.

  The Rothwell carriage was drawn up before the door. Lady Rothwell, moving her bulk slowly, flanked by Chloe and Bess, the maid, was ready to mount into the plush interior. A footman stood on either side of the door, ready to hand her up. Behind this little group, Lydia, a pout settling on her face, and Sophy stood with Edward near the gig in which they were to ride.

  Thaddeus Invers was with them, watching with greedy eyes as the picnic hampers were stowed by the servants in a vehicle ahead of the carriage, ready to depart ahead of the others for the picnic site.

  Francis, hovering behind them all, had the strong intention of staying out of Lady Rothwell’s sight. Out of sight, out of mind, he hoped.

  Standing two steps above the others, he was in a better position to see the approaching Julian Stoddard, and he was struck to the heart. His jaw dropped open and his eyes glazed over, for disaster was now approaching on the second front.

  Julian’s arrival, perforce, changed the arrangements of the picnic party. It seemed as though Lady Rothwell was ready to go, but the party was waiting for Lady Partridge and Emma to drive over and join them.

  After greeting Julian Stoddard with a minimum of civility, the party waited. Lady Partridge’s carriage turned in at the gateposts, and the wheels crunched on the gravel drive heralding her approach long before she was in sight.

  Julian, making no effort to leave, must of necessity be invited to join them. He took pains to join Chloe, saying something he considered flattering. Chloe answered him with words she could not remember, and moved away. She had no interest in Stoddard, and could hardly hide her dislike. In moving away, unfortunately, she moved closer to Thaddeus Invers.

  Invers for his part was angry with Stoddard, considering him an interloper. The two eyed each other warily, and without a word the gauntlet was thrown down. The sound of wheels grew closer, and Lady Partridge and her daughter arrived.

  Emma leaped from the coach, greeting Sophy as though they were travelers on a desert, and Sophy hugged her friend with abandon.

  It sorted out at last. Lady Rothwell and Lady Partridge rode together in the Rothwell carriage, and it fell out that Lady Rothwell, aware of the situation for once, instructed Chloe to join her in the carriage. Thus she neatly removed the heiress from both Stoddard and Invers. Lady Rothwell promised herself to keep a close eye on Chloe, and an even closer eye on the two strangers from London.

  As they swept down the drive, they met Richard arriving in his phaeton. Edward, averse to spending the afternoon on a picnic he didn’t expect to enjoy, with his cousin Francis, who was worse than a cipher as a conversationalist, and two others for whom he cherished a secret dislike, hailed Richard with great relief.

  He explained briefly the purpose of the cavalcade, and said, earnestly, “You must join us, Davenant. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  14

  The object of the cavalcade’s progress was a ruined abbey on a hilltop. The abbey, like so many famous sights, was ignored by the locals and only rarely visited by travelers from London. It was picturesque, in a way, but its history was nearly forgotten, and the building had been allowed to fall into disrepair.

  The abbey lay at the far end of Richard’s land, although the others paid little heed to the actual ownership. It was a matter of public domain, being an historical site.

  It was the better part of an hour’s drive from Rothwell Manor. The servants would be there well before the others arrived, and it was questionable whether they considered the day as a diversion.

  Richard, accepting Edward’s invitation, and turning to follow the gentlemen riders, noted the gathering-in. He noticed that Stoddard and Invers, having little in common, eyed each other as warily as stray dogs spoiling for a fight.

  The cavalcade turned, just before it reached the village, onto a narrow, rutted lane, and climbed up toward the picturesque ruins. The procession, consisting of Lady Rothwell’s carriage, the gig with Sophy and Emma, and Richard’s phaeton behind, along, with Thaddeus and Julian and Francis, was most impressive. As they turned the corner before the village, small boys ran to watch them go by, and dogs barked furiously until quieted by their owners.

  Richard longed for a sight of Chloe, and was speculating, as he found himself doing more and more, about what Chloe was thinking. She was immured in that mammoth old-fashioned coach, undoubtedly a paragon of comfort, but the company was undoubtedly lacking in intellectual stimulation. Had he been able by some magic to read her mind, he would have been gratified.

  For Chloe, facing two comfortably padded women whose conversation was as predictable today as it had been last week and probably would be next week, retreated into the habit she had formed of abstracting herself from the current conversation. Her thoughts, originally quite dark, had taken on a rosier hue when she had seen Richard driving up the drive, and her mood turned quite cheerful at the thought that he was accompanying them. She longed to look through the walls of the coach and watch him driving somewhere behind them, far enough back to avoid the dust. She would miss him, as one missed one’s right arm, she guessed, when he was no longer a bachelor. Chloe had no illusions about a new Lady Davenant making demands upon Richard. And Richard was the kind of man who would do his duty to the utmost.

  Lady Partridge, almost as though she could read Chloe’s mind, remarked calmly, “It is all settled, you know. Sir Richard is retiring to live here at the Hall.”

  Lady Rothwell, whose vanity extended to her own superior sources of gossip, said, �
��Yes, I understand he has offered for Penelope Salton. I have it on the best authority.”

  Lady Partridge said, with a wise glint in her eye, “Many think that he has.”

  Lady Rothwell, nettled, retorted, “I know that he went up last week to make his offer.”

  While the two wrangled amiably over Sir Richard Davenant’s marriage as though it were a succulent bone, Chloe found that her head was beginning to ache again.

  Chloe laid her head back on the squabs, aware of the faint smell of dust rising from the velvet, and fell into a drowse. She was in that state between waking and sleeping where the most vivid dreams came. It was perhaps her own wish that came to the fore, but she was not conscious of summoning it. She found, in her dreaming, a place of quiet, where someone brought her a dish of tea and some buttered scones hot from the oven, and mercifully left her alone. In her dream her headache was gone, and she felt marvelously restored. Just as she came from her dream into a state of wakefulness, she caught a glimpse of the gates of her dream place. The name on the gates was Highmoor.

  The carriage slowed, turned, and then stopped. They had arrived at the ruins. Thaddeus Invers managed to reach the step of the carriage a half pace ahead of Stoddard to help the ladies down. As Chloe alighted on the ground, her eyes rose to catch her first glimpse of the ruins. She saw only a tall tower of stone, broken and jagged at the top. She knew that still to be seen was the moat where the monks of the abbey kept carp swimming until they were removed to grace the table. Henry the Eighth had wreaked havoc with the peaceful existence of those monks, and seized the land and all the treasures of the abbey. The building itself was allowed to fall into ruin.

  The land, with a Tudor blessing, had gone to the first Davenant. Being of a practical race, the Davenants had since that time augmented their land, brought the fields to prosperity, filled in the moat, and left the ruined abbey, which was of no practical use, to the ravages of time and weather.

  Thaddeus Invers, with a proprietary air, said, “We will postpone our inspection of the abbey until after our luncheon.”

  The luncheon, which was the best that Mrs. Field could provide on such short notice, complaining all the while that her tooth had come in the way of her devoted service to Miss Chloe, was truly a very tasty meal. Besides, the outdoor air and the long journey had given them all fine appetites.

  Only Julian Stoddard had reservations, and gave voice to them. “This is very good chicken,” he said, “almost as tasty as was served at the Prince Regent’s dinner last week.” Inwardly Chloe groaned, for she had had a sufficiency of the Regent’s whims, tastes, and activities.

  Chloe had learned the trick of turning her mind off, leaving only a portion of her thoughts as sentry, to warn her if someone addressed her, or to provide a clue as to the proper response. Julian prosed on, while Thaddeus Invers, who considered the outing his own idea and therefore his own property, glared at Julian. Who invited Stoddard anyway? Invers, despite his connection with a well enough bred family, had yet been brought up in a middle-class fashion. Without the money and the family reputation to uphold, his family had lapsed into middle-class ways, and Thaddeus tried to bury his past every day. He was uneasy enough in his aspirations to marry Chloe Rothwell, without Julian Stoddard pointing out with every name he dropped his own affiliation with the higher reaches of the fashionable world.

  With an anxious eye Thaddeus watched Chloe, the object of his ambition. It was a quiet enough scene, Sir Richard handing Chloe a bunch of grapes, her eyes flickering upward to thank him, and the two older ladies comfortably gossiping and paying no heed to Julian Stoddard. All was not yet lost. Thaddeus could even begin to expand, surveying the entire picnic party. It was all his idea, and he felt gratified that his guests were enjoying themselves. He ignored the fact that the carriages and the repast itself were furnished by Lord Rothwell.

  Julian and Lydia were having a comfortable conversation. Sophy and Emma had wandered off by themselves, exchanging secrets that were significant only to each other. By an evil chance, all conversation fell silent at the moment. Lydia, intent upon charming Julian Stoddard, mostly as an exercise in the flirtations that she expected to indulge in later, was oblivious to the others of the party. In the sudden silence, her clear voice rang out, “I’m going to London soon. My sister —” Her voice trailed away as she became conscious that all eyes were fixed upon her.

  She subsided, with a sheepish glance out of the corner of her eyes at Chloe. Lady Rothwell, uneasy at what might be the reaction of Edward, leaped ponderously into the breach. “Now, Lydia,” she said. “I never saw such a girl for speaking out of turn.”

  Lady Partridge, mildly curious, said, “Then it is true. I have heard that Chloe is going to take you to London.” Unaware of the flush creeping up Lady Rothwell’s cheeks, Lady Partridge continued, “How nice of Chloe! A truly dutiful daughter, isn’t she? I only hope my own Emma would behave as well, and think of her family first. But at that age — it’s hard to see what they will do. Sometimes I quite despair of Emma’s future.”

  Chloe, her heart sinking into her stomach, looked down at her folded hands. She felt suddenly as though she were in a room in a nightmare, with the walls closing inexorably in on her and no escape. The road to London, paved as it was by Lydia and Lady Rothwell, was no escape. It was the trap itself.

  Suddenly, with the uneasiness of an ill-assorted party conscious of undercurrents swirling about their ankles, they all leaped into conversation. Under cover of the ensuing babble, Richard helped Chloe to her feet. Imperceptibly he drew her aside from the others so their words were not overheard. He looked down at her with great concern.

  “Are you not well?”

  “I had the headache a little while ago,” she said, “but it is gone now. I simply need something to eat.”

  Richard was not satisfied with her evasive answer. “There is something the trouble,” he said, “for you have too many headaches. Can’t you tell me what it is?”

  Of a sudden, her words came in a rush. “Francis has offered for me.”

  Richard’s heart sank into his boots. Had he waited too long to declare himself? Yet it was Chloe’s own wish that he refrain, and he was fairly caught on the horns of the dilemma. But Chloe, without noticing, said quite calmly, “I refused him, of course.”

  Richard felt that he could breathe again. “You are going to London, then?”

  Quite sadly she said, “I suppose I shall.”

  “You wish not to go?” asked Richard.

  Chloe said, “I was there once, you know, five years ago, but I was called home almost at once when my father died.”

  Richard said, “Yes, I was in Europe at that time. I heard the news of your father’s passing, in Cairo. I was sorry I could not be here. But why do you go to London, if you don’t wish to?”

  Chloe did not answer for so long a time he feared he had offended her. But then finally came her wee voice, “My stepmama wishes it. This legacy, you know ...” Her voice trailed away in silence.

  Richard said, almost brusquely, “What would you rather do, travel?”

  He touched her elbow, and they began to stroll slowly toward the object of the outing. The ruined abbey rose on the eminence ahead, dark and foreboding, and Chloe shuddered. “No, I think I would not like to travel. Mr. Stoddard speaks of such terrible mishaps with bandits and other unfortunate things. I am not one for being alone.”

  Richard said, “You wouldn’t be going alone, you know.”

  Suddenly he quite longed to be able to tell Chloe about all the things he had seen in Europe, and even show them to her. He could picture her eyes widening at the deep gorges in Switzerland, her eyes twinkling when she shared with him some minor enjoyment at the foibles of the Continentals, but he noticed that Chloe was not cheered by the prospect of travel. She said, “Lady Rothwell would not like the inns, and Lydia would pine for London.” She smiled, but he noticed that her mischievous dimple was still hidden. Her amusement was only on the surface. Ben
eath her outer civility, he was sure, lay a deep well of sadness. They were now more than halfway to the ruins.

  Richard found suddenly that his fists were clenched, and very carefully he relaxed his fingers. Within, he was seething with emotion. Couldn’t his beloved girl see that the harpies were bent upon plucking away everything she held dear?

  It was perfectly clear to him, as it truly must be to Chloe, or would be some day, that she was being forced into supporting her sister’s ill-advised stay in London, and was not even being protected from unwelcome suitors.

  He wondered at Edward. If Richard were Chloe’s brother, these suitors would have been sent packing before they entered the house.

  Chloe, her thoughts, as often, marching along with his, must have felt something of his anger, for she said, lifting her eyes in an appeal for understanding, “They are all I have, you know. And they do love me.”

  Richard, not as convinced as Chloe, said almost roughly, “What would you truly want to do?”

  She said, very slowly, “I don’t think I could put it into words. I know sometimes what I want, and yet when I think about it I don’t truly want it.”

  They had stopped in their slow amble, and she looked up at him and saw in his eyes the tenderness that he did not try to hide. He was her Great Friend, after all, the one who had known her the longest. She finally said, “I shall tell you the small dream I just had in the carriage.”

  Because it was fresh in her mind, it took on vividness all too clearly. She considered it a dream, but Richard saw more in it than she did. A small retreat at Highmoor, someone else to run the house and bring in her tea and cakes to her. Richard saw that it was the blessed rest, and someone caring for her, that was a deep-seated longing in her.

  She finished her meager confession by saying, “I should, I think, like to live at Highmoor. Edward says it is totally ineligible, so I must not think of it. Besides, how would I go on without my family?”