by Burnett, May
“Distract me some more,” she gasped.
North willingly complied with his lady’s command.
Chapter 16
Susan’s hasty wedding and subsequent departure had cast a pall over her family, worried and unsure they had done the right thing in allowing her to marry Lord Northcote. Her behaviour over the last few weeks before the wedding had been so very much out of character that it left her brothers puzzled.
Jeremy recalled his new brother-in-law’s mocking threat time after time. His usually sound sleep was disturbed. In that far-off dilapidated castle, Susan would be wholly at Northcote’s mercy, and the man had already proved himself a scoundrel. In vain did Jeremy remind himself that his sister was strong-minded for a female, and not easily daunted or subdued. How could even the most valiant young woman prevail against the legal and physical power of a husband, on the latter’s home ground? His poor sister had not one familiar face about her, even that worthless maid of hers had preferred to seek another position in town. Anything could happen.
Awake at night, it occurred to him that if the family received a letter shortly, informing them that Susan had suddenly died, nobody would know the true circumstances. Northcote would keep most of the dowry – all of it, if he waited for the birth of her child. Then, when she was weakened and asleep, she’d be completely vulnerable…
Nonsense, Jeremy told himself. This was the enlightened nineteenth century, and they were not living in the pages of some sensational crime story; he was allowing his fraternal worries to stray beyond the bounds of reason. Still, murders did occur, and many victims and their families no doubt had fancied them unthinkable before they actually happened.
What should, what could he do? It was not considered polite to intrude on a newly wedded couple’s first few weeks, but it had already been over ten days since Susan had left. By the time a visitor arrived in Cornwall, more weeks would have passed, surely enough solitude for anyone used to town life. A surprise visit would thus be unexceptional. He could satisfy himself in person whether his sister was in any danger, and warn her husband again, in no uncertain terms, that he’d best treat Susan like a precious porcelain doll, if he valued his own survival.
He resolved to leave in two days’ time, without sending advance warning.
This decision made it easier to go about his normal activities without outward signs of anxiety. There was much to keep Jeremy busy, for besides his many social engagements, over the last few years he had gradually taken over the management of their family’s wide-flung business interests. Not all of these might be genteel, but it took a large income to support the earldom and its many retainers. Luckily his father and grandfather had realised in time that land alone would not reliably do so, and invested their surplus and wives’ dowries in a variety of profitable ventures. Since Jeremy would inherit the bulk of the Winthrop fortune, it was only natural that he should free his father from these responsibilities. The earl was devoting most of his energy to politics these days, as one of the most active Tory members in the House of Lords.
Not that the family did not have land too; there were four large estates to administer. Though each had a carefully chosen steward, Jeremy still needed to approve major decisions, and look over their reports and accounts. Since Susan’s departure, to his annoyance he had also been consulted by the butler and housekeeper on sundry domestic matters his sister had previously handled, and that he would have preferred to leave to somebody else. He really should think of marriage himself, one of these days.
Not knowing how many days the trip to Cornwall would consume, and determined to stay there until he was entirely satisfied of Susan’s safety and happiness, he took the unusual step of telling Barnaby about his plans, and asking for his assistance with their business interests during his absence. The eagerness with which his younger brother volunteered for this chore surprised him as much as the grasp of business he demonstrated, when Jeremy carefully coached him.
“I had no idea, Barnaby, that you would be interested in all these sordid commercial ventures,” he observed when they had run through the lists he had prepared.
“Well, betting and carousing palls after a while, and I’m nearly twenty-three. There’s no point in joining the army now we have peace, and I can’t see myself as a clergyman,” Barnaby said lightly.
“Good heavens, no! Not a clergyman, it would ruin my faith in the Church of England! Though we do have two excellent livings in our gift that should come up within the next five years,” Jeremy said, unsurprised at his brother’s vehement shake of the head. “If you really feel at loose ends, I would appreciate your help with these companies and estates even after my return; it is getting to be too much for me to handle alone. You should have said something earlier.”
“I had no idea you needed my help. You always appear so completely on top of things.”
“Mere pose, I assure you. It would not do to let the hoi polloi see one of us flummoxed. Though I wonder if it’s a family thing. Do you remember how they used to call Susan unflappable and always in control?”
“She was also posing, too proud to let people see her real feelings, you think?”
“Well, it stands to reason… she was not like that as a young child, after all. We teased her when she cried and acted like a little girl.”
“Maybe,” Barnaby suggested, frowning slightly, “all that teasing made her so self-controlled? It cannot have been easy to be the youngest, and the only girl. And she only had Mother for such a short time.”
That insight silenced Jeremy for a long moment. “We didn’t mean any harm, surely,” he said, but hesitantly. “She turned out fine, after all. A sister we can all be proud of.” He recalled her puzzling fall from grace and winced. “Though these last few months she has been behaving very strangely. That’s why I am so anxious to see how she’s going on.”
“Right-ho. I hope you’ll find all is well; give her my love,” Barnaby said. “I confess I have been uneasy myself. That one short letter we received was so very bland and sounded so cheerful, that I found it very hard to believe in its veracity.”
“That’s true. I had the feeling she was keeping things from us even before her revelation, and it has not gone away. We should have insisted on getting to the bottom of things while she was still here.”
“What about Fenton, though? He’s been reportedly sighted in a couple of gaming hells, but nobody in his Club has seen him, and his staff claim he’s still out of town.”
“Susan’s situation in Cornwall takes precedence,” Jeremy said reluctantly.
“I can challenge the cur just as well as you. If he kills me it won’t make as much difference to the family,” Barnaby said.
Jeremy felt instant revulsion at the idea of losing his younger brother in such a fashion. Was this how Susan had felt about his own plans to duel the man? He brushed the pesky thought aside.
“No, I would much prefer that you do nothing until we have found out the whole story from Susan. Promise me to wait for my return. I claim the right to kill Fenton myself.”
“All right, but if he goes about uttering one word in Susan’s disparagement, I will not be held back. And I don’t want you killed either, you know. You should be thinking of marriage instead, and producing infant Winthrops to secure the succession.”
“No hurry about that, with two brothers – why don’t you get married, and give me some nephews and nieces? Twenty-three is old enough.”
Barnaby scratched his chin. “I might, you know, one of these days. But I’d rather my son did not grow up with the expectation of being your heir, so I’d prefer that you go first. Don’t you want children?”
“I think of them more as a necessity, than something to actively look forward to, to be honest.”
“If you were head over heels in love, you’d be less coldblooded about the matter. I would love to see it.”
“If that ever happens,” Jeremy protested, “I shall make sure you are not around to observe the embarr
assing symptoms.”
Later, walking to his Club, Jeremy remembered Barnaby’s words about the unsatisfactory letter they had had from Susan, written while still on the journey to Cornwall. It had been cheerfully vague, and did not even mention her state of health.
If Susan had some female problem, she might be hesitant to confide in her brothers. Possibly she had been more forthcoming with her best friend, the unfortunate Abigail Trevelyan? It might not be a bad idea to sound the girl out, and since his departure was imminent, it had to be right away. Jeremy knew Mrs. Trevelyan’s address, having escorted Susan there a couple of times.
The ladies were at home, entertaining other morning visitors. Jeremy easily manoeuvred himself into a place next to the young woman. She still looked pale and unhappy, but when she smiled at him, he thought that Miss Trevelyan was pretty in her own way, though she’d never be a beauty like Susan. Besides, vivacity and a large dowry were more important on the marriage mart. It was hardly surprising that the poor girl was ending the season still unattached.
He talked about the weather until her stepmother’s attention was diverted by another caller, at which point he quietly asked, “Miss Trevelyan, have you any recent news of my sister?”
She nodded, wringing her hands in her lap. Did the subject make her so agitated? What could be that bad?
“Lord Barton,” she said in a low, urgent voice, “your sister has urged me to visit her forthwith, and I cannot but fear that there is something amiss that causes her to need a friend close by. I can show you the letter, if you like. I have been wracking my brain how to go to her, but my stepmother will not allow me – the distance, the expense, the lack of society in Cornwall, the need to have a respectable female along…,” her voice trailed off. She seemed near tears.
Jeremy thought quickly. To issue such an invitation immediately after getting married was decidedly odd, almost alarming. If his sister’s situation was that serious, the more friends and familiar faces she had around her, the safer she would be. He could not fathom how this timid girl could be of help to his resolute sister, but if Susan wanted her friend, she would get her.
“Maybe I can help.”
She flushed and raised her blue eyes to his, shining with hope. “Oh, if only you could! There is nothing I wish for more.”
“The season was not to your taste, Miss Trevelyan?”
She shook her head. “I never want to live through another. Nor am likely to,” she added in a lower voice, half to herself.
“Since Susan’s departure,” he said slowly, as the plan came to him, “it has occurred to me that she might like to have her old nurse, Mrs Widdy, about her in her strange new surroundings. I was already going to send the woman to Cornwall in my own travelling coach. You could easily go with her, at no extra trouble for your stepmother. I would send along a couple of grooms as outriders, to ensure that you both arrived safely. Shall I speak to your step-mother about it now?”
“You would save my life if you brought it off,” Abigail Trevelyan replied in a choking voice. He suppressed a smile at her exaggeration. Clearly her friendship with Susan meant a great deal to the girl. She would be vigilant, if nothing else.
“Let me talk to her now,” he said, and changed places, as one of the departing callers had conveniently left a chair next to his hostess free.
Mrs. Trevelyan was not hard to persuade; Jeremy shamelessly traded on his superior standing and title. Hinting that he would be visiting his sister himself over the summer, he cynically observed the match-making gleam in the lady’s eyes. To his surprise, Abigail, who joined them when the last of the other callers had left, added that Susan was planning to entertain in Cornwall, and that there were several eligible gentlemen in the vicinity. How could she know this already? From what he’d heard of Susan’s future home, it could hardly be fit for entertaining just yet.
The departure was fixed on next Tuesday morning, one day later than Jeremy had planned; this delay would give him time to seek out Mrs. Widdy, long pensioned off, and persuade her to hurry to Susan’s side. That she would agree, he did not doubt for a moment. The very suggestion that her beloved Susan might be in trouble would be enough, and a large bonus would be an additional inducement. Though in her seventies now, the former nurse would be a formidable protector, he thought with satisfaction. He should have thought of enlisting her aid before this. Northcote would hardly be able to harm Susan with her brother, nurse and friend in the house.
Jeremy did not mention his plan to escort the carriage to Cornwall to Mrs. Trevelyan; he had not reached his present age still single, without taking elementary precautions.
Chapter 17
Jeremy rode his horse close to the coach in which Mrs. Widdy and Miss Trevelyan were sitting. He had joined the travellers on the first stop outside of London, well away from Mrs Trevelyan’s matchmaking eyes. Only Mrs Widdy had been aware of his plans ahead of time.
Miss Trevelyan had greeted him with inexplicable nervousness. When she left for the withdrawing room after drinking a cup of tea, Mrs Widdy pursed her lips. “My lord, something is strange about this young lady,” she said in a low voice. “We started off with a maid as well, as is only normal, a middle-aged woman. But she got off before ever leaving town.”
“It’s not too surprising if a London maid is reluctant to go all the way to Cornwall. My sister’s maid also elected to remain in town.”
“It was Miss Trevelyan’s decision. She told the maid she would not need her on this journey, to go back to their home. When the maid baulked, Miss Trevelyan charged her with some kind of theft – from the way the maid deflated, the accusation must have been true. She descended without further protest.”
“Hmm. If the woman was dishonest, it may be for the best to have left her behind. We could hire some temporary help on the way, I suppose.”
“Who knows how trustworthy such a person would be?” Mrs Widdy sniffed. “I can go on without a servant and so can this young lady, I daresay.”
“But it places you in the position of her only chaperon.” Jeremy did not need to elaborate the potential danger for him. “We’d best try to find some respectable woman when we stop for the night, the sooner the better.”
“Very well, milord.”
In the late afternoon the weather turned so wet that he joined the two women inside the coach, before his travelling coat was completely soaked through.
“I hope you don’t catch your death from this,” Mrs Widdy said, shaking her head. “You should have come in the moment the first drops began to fall.” Her severe tone reminded him of the far-off days under her authority in the Branscombe nursery.
“I’m not made of sugar, Mrs Widdy,” he said, smiling. “This is not the first rain I’ve ridden through. Please don’t worry.”
“Are you really coming with us all the way to Susan’s new home?” Miss Trevelyan looked at him a trifle anxiously. “I had not realised.”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision,” he lied. “The thought of a young lady and Mrs Widdy going so far without escort made me uneasy.”
“The age of highwaymen is past, and we have the two outriders. The coachman seems very experienced, as well."
“Yes, he regularly drives me all over the country to our various estates,” Jeremy explained. “But even the most experienced coachman is not entirely safe from accidents.”
“A gentleman’s escort is always welcome, though as long as you have enough blunt, you will usually get to the destination eventually,” Mrs Widdy said. “Lady Susan will be happy to see not only her friend, but her brother come to visit so soon.”
“How long are you planning to stay in Cornwall?” Miss Trevelyan asked. “With all those estates to administer, you will hardly have time for an extended visit.”
Was she anxious to be rid of him? Surely not.
“My sister is more important than our estates, which are all managed well enough. I shall stay until I am satisfied that she is well established in her new home.�
� There was a grim undertone in his voice.
“I liked Lord Northcote, what little I saw of him at the wedding,” Miss Trevelyan stated. Jeremy could not believe his ears. She must have been the only person at the wedding to think so, apart from the fellow’s army of hungry military friends. And had she not been crying almost the whole time? “By now, I expect they will have established a happy connubial understanding,” Miss Trevelyan went on optimistically.
Jeremy could not help snorting in derision at her rosy-hued picture. “We shall see soon enough, Miss Trevelyan. Let’s hope you are right, though if they are so content together, why would Susan request a friend’s company within days of her wedding? Personally, I have not the slightest notion what my sister can have seen in Northcote; though it’s more than clear what was the attraction for him.”
“I think you are doing both of them an injustice,” Miss Trevelyan objected, to his astonishment. “Susan is an excellent judge of character.”
“I used to think so too, but no longer.” They would never agree on this subject, so he turned the conversation to Miss Trevelyan’s own family: her father was sailing somewhere in the West Indies, she believed. She had not had any news for over six months, which was normal enough with the Navy. When a letter did arrive, it would be many months out of date. Listening to her description of her father’s career, it occurred to Jeremy that the families of sailors needed as much valour as the intrepid seamen themselves. He would have hated not to know if a close family member was in danger, or even still alive, for months and years on end.
Miss Trevelyan’s late mother was from an Army family; her grandfather, the general Susan had once mentioned, had died four years previously. There were some cousins in Scotland that she had never met, but who had sent a polite letter when her mother died. Of the stepmother she talked little, but it was easy to read between the lines how unhappy Miss Trevelyan was under the control of this ill-bred woman.