by Mary Nichols
She wished she could have nothing to do with them, but boycotting them was not a good idea, she decided. Until she heard from Mr Hardacre, she and her children, not to mention the servants, were at the mercy of her brother-in-law and it behoved her to try and keep the peace. But she would be very wary, polite but aloof, and if they thought she was top-lofty, what did it matter?
There were, she discovered, when she made her way into the hall, several ladies among the men; all were overdressed, all noisy. They had servants with them, and coachmen who needed accommodation. Charlotte instructed Foster to tell them where to go and concentrated on the guests.
‘My sister-in-law,’ Cecil said, waving his hand vaguely in her direction. ‘She is housekeeping for me, so anything you need, ask her.’
‘Ladies. Gentlemen.’ Not by the flicker of an eyelid did she betray her consternation. ‘If you will allow me a moment to take off my cloak and bonnet, I will show you to your rooms.’ She divested herself of her outer garments and handed them with her reticule to Miss Quinn who hovered in the background. She went to lead the way when another guest strolled from the drawing room to join them. He stopped before her, smiling. ‘Cecil,’ he drawled. ‘Introduce me to the lady.’
The plain clothes of the day before had gone. Now he was dressed in the height of elegance. His shirt collar had extravagant points, his starched cravat was intricately tied, his coat of blue superfine fitted his broad shoulders as if he had been poured into it and his pantaloons, tucked into shining Hessians, emphasised well-muscled legs.
‘Lady Hobart,’ Cecil said. ‘Allow me to present Viscount Stacey Darton.’
Stacey took her hand and bowed over it. ‘Lady Hobart, your servant.’ He brought the hand to his lips and as his head came up, murmured. ‘Is that polite enough for you, my lady?’
‘My lord.’ She managed to bend her knee and incline her head slightly without falling over, but the sight of him, so different from the man she had met in the village, was doing strange things to her limbs. She was shaking like an aspen, which was a ridiculous state of affairs, she chided herself. She had already half-guessed he was one of Cecil’s cronies and should not have been surprised to see him. Only she had so hoped she was wrong, that he was a true gentleman. It was strangely disappointing.
‘The company begins to improve,’ Sir Roland said, laughing. ‘A Viscount, no less. Cecil, you are a dark horse. Why did you not say his lordship was to grace us with his presence?’
‘I thought it might be a pleasant surprise,’ Cecil said, smirking. He went on to name his friends to Stacey, but Charlotte was not listening; she did not think it was necessary to know the names of these people. The less she saw of them the better.
‘Have you brought a partner, my lord?’ Augustus wanted to know.
‘No, I am alone, sir. I find females distracting when there is serious play to be had.’
‘But a pleasant distraction, eh, Cousin Stacey?’ Cecil said and dug him in the ribs, evincing a quickly stifled recoil of distaste from Stacey.
The women laughed and one sidled up to him and smiled. She was on the plump side and her bosom was straining at the low neckline of her dress. Her hair was arranged in a complicated coiffure topped with feathers dyed blue and pink. She wore a glittering necklace and rings on almost every finger. ‘I shall take pleasure in distracting you, my lord. But not until after the game.’
He laughed and pinched her cheek. ‘No doubt you will. Lady Grey, is it not?’
‘Oh, do not be so formal, my lord. My name is Adelia. I give you permission to use it.’
He bowed slightly. ‘Adelia, I shall remember that.’
It was all too much for Charlotte; she felt sickened and curiously let down, as if she had expected better of the Viscount. He had been a much nicer person as a simple horseman, even if he did tease. ‘Ladies. Gentlemen,’ she said loudly, to be heard above the chatter and banter that was filling the hall. ‘If you follow me I will conduct you to your apartments. Later there will be a light repast in the dining room to refresh you after your journey. We usually dine at five.’
‘Five!’ one of the men said. He was dressed in a ridiculous coat with a velvet collar that stood up around his ears, a yellow-and-brown striped waistcoat and a spotted cravat. ‘Great God! I’m hardly out of bed by then. It ain’t civilised.’
‘Shut up, Reggie,’ one of the women told him. Her thin dress, with its low scooped neckline and puffed sleeves, was almost transparent. ‘It will give us a longer evening, more time to relieve our host of his blunt.’
So they had come to gamble. Charlotte was hardly surprised, but she wondered what the outcome might be if Cecil lost heavily. She strode between them purposefully and led the way upstairs, flinging open doors on the first-floor landing and telling them she hoped they would be comfortable.
Lord Darton was the last to be accommodated. He paused on the threshold of the room whose door she held open for him. She did not speak. ‘Now that we have been formally introduced, you can have nothing against speaking to me, can you?’ he asked, breaking the silence. The teasing light in his eyes was still there, but now she interpreted it differently. Now she saw it as lascivious, like the gleam of speculation in the eyes of Sir Roland Bentwater and MrAugustus Spike, but infinitely more dangerous because she was repulsed by them, but not by this man. Viscount Darton was undeniably attractive and if she let down her guard, she might find herself liking him, responding to his teasing. And that would never do.
‘I am your hostess, my lord, and not so impolite as to ignore you.’
‘Ah, yes. It is an odd world, is it not, that brings a host of strangers together in one place to get along as best they may?’
Was there more to that simple comment than the words themselves suggested? Was he suggesting they might not all get along? Did he have any idea of her predicament? ‘If you say so, my lord.’
‘Oh, I do. It must be fate.’
‘Oh, I think it more likely that Lord Hobart issued an invitation you could not resist,’ she said lightly.
‘There is that,’ he agreed. ‘But when I set out, I had no idea you would be here.’
‘My lord, Easterley Manor has been my home for the last twelve years, why would I not be here? Now, please excuse me, I have much to do.’
She turned and left him, walking sedately along the corridor to go back downstairs to help in the kitchen. The servants were hard-pressed and, in their haste, falling over each other and causing mayhem. She stopped to help them, taking the platters of food into the dining room herself, where some of the guests were already assembled. Cecil was there, strutting like a peacock, full of bonhomie, pressing food and wine on to them. Not that they needed pressing; they were eager and greedy. She put down the dishes and went over to her brother-in-law.
‘My lord,’ she murmured. ‘I must speak to you. In the library where we may be private.’
‘Certainly, my dear, let us be private.’ He grinned round at the company as he excused himself, then led the way from the room, along the hall and into the library. She followed him in, but did not close the door. Being shut in a room with him was something for which she had no relish.
‘Well, what is it?’ he asked, leaning back against the desk, a desk cluttered with papers. She supposed they had been left by Mr Hardacre, but, judging by the way they were scattered about, the contents had not pleased her brother-in-law.
‘My lord, how long will your guests be staying?’
‘Anxious to be rid of them, are you?’
‘They are a drain on your resources and the servants cannot manage without more help.’
‘Then you help them.’
‘I am doing so, but I cannot be everywhere at once.’
‘Now, do you know, I thought that you could.’ It was said with a sneer. ‘Here, there and everywhere, that is my dear sister-in-law, one minute in the house, overseeing the servants, making a fuss over her precious daughters, the next jaunting about the village, trying to teac
h the children of peasants to think themselves better than their masters. And cavorting on the beach with them.’ He grinned at her shocked expression. ‘Oh, do not imagine your antics go unnoticed. Now, I suggest you forget all about the village and concentrate on this house and making its idle servants earn their keep.’
The only person who could have told him about seeing her on the beach was Viscount Darton and she resented it. What reason could he have for doing that, except to discomfort her? ‘We need at least two more kitchen maids and two chambermaids, and an extra woman in the laundry room,’ she said, determined not to be side-tracked.
‘Hire them, then, but don’t come to me for their wages. Now, I must rejoin my guests or they will think that you and I are disporting ourselves and neglecting them.’ And with that he left her.
She was about to follow him when she heard him cry out jovially. ‘Why, cousin Stacey, found your way, have you? Come into the dining room and have some refreshments. Then I will tell you of the entertainment I am planning for this evening.’ Standing in the doorway, she saw them go off down the hall arm in arm. Once they were out of sight, she went up to her room, grabbed her cloak and went back to the pandemonium of the kitchen.
‘My lady, have you seen what he has ordered for dinner?’ Cook demanded, waving a sheet of paper. ‘It can’t be done. I’ve only one pair of hands. And though Betsy is a good girl, she i’n’t blessed with any more neither.’
‘I’m going to the village to see if I can hire some help,’ Charlotte said, swinging her cloak round her shoulders.
‘Thank the good Lord,’ Cook said. ‘The sooner the better.’
Charlotte left the house by the kitchen door and made her way on to the lane into the village. There were men and women there who would be glad of employment, but she could not ask them to work for nothing. Oh, they might come eagerly enough, but when they discovered the kind of people they were serving and learned that the new Lord Hobart was not as scrupulous about debts as his late father, they would think she had deceived them. They trusted her and she did not mean to betray that trust. The new servants must be paid and the ones already there too, even if it took every penny she had.
She went to the homes of those whose menfolk were out of work and, though it was not the kind of work they were used to, she offered two of them work as footmen to fetch and carry for the guests, and at two other homes she found women to come and work in the kitchens. They were not trained housemaids, but Cecil could not expect experienced servants at such short notice. She would promote Betsy to chambermaid; she was big and strong and not likely to attract the men as a young maid might and she would look after the other maids.
By the time she returned, there was barely time to see Lizzie and Fanny and instruct Quinny to keep them to their own quarters before the dinner gong sounded. She changed quickly and went down to join the guests as they trooped from the drawing room into the dining room.
‘There you are, Charlotte,’ Cecil said. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Hiring more help for the house,’ she said.
‘Good,’ Sir Roland put in. ‘I had to send twice for hot water. It nearly made me late for dinner.’
‘And I asked for a bottle of cognac and was offered sherry wine,’ another said. ‘Don’t your servants know the difference, Hobart?’
‘My apologies, gentlemen,’ Cecil said, as he led the way into the dining room. ‘It will not happen again.’
‘And my maid could not get my gown pressed,’ Lady Grey put in. ‘I have been obliged to wear it all crumpled from being packed.’
‘You would never know it, my lady,’ Stacey said. ‘It looks charming, as you are yourself.’
‘Why, you old flatterer,’ she said, laughing and digging him in the ribs with her fan. ‘For that, you may escort me into dinner.’
He gallantly offered her his arm, but he was aware of Lady Hobart, standing close by, ready to follow the last of the guests. He had been hanging back in order to escort her himself, but unless he wanted to alienate Adelia Grey and, more importantly, his host, he could do nothing but comply.
Lady Hobart appeared perfectly calm, though he could tell by her pallor, and the way her whole body seemed tense, that she was far from easy with the situation. Poor thing! Staying in the village as he had, he had soon confirmed that she was indeed the sister-in-law he had heard Cecil speak of, heard her praised for her goodness, her generosity to those less fortunate, her commitment to educating the children, who all loved her. She was, according to the villagers, a paragon of virtue.
She had intrigued him from the start and he had found himself wondering about her, but, remembering Julia and his errand on her behalf, was prepared to leave. He had been in the inn’s parlour, eating a meal before continuing his ride, when John Hardacre came in and ordered a meal and a room for the night. Stacey knew him well; he had been legal adviser to the family for years.
Finishing his business with the innkeeper, the lawyer had turned towards Stacey. ‘Viscount Darton! I never thought to see you in such an out-of-the-way place.’
‘I was on my way to Ipswich and was forced to stop when my horse threw a shoe.’ He laughed. ‘The pace of life is wondrous slow in this part of the country. It has taken more than a day to fashion four shoes, though to be honest I don’t suppose they see a horse like mine very often. And I was in no great haste. What reason have you for being here?’
‘Lord Hobart lives close by. He is my client. I had business with him.’
‘Oh, yes, I had heard he was back from India to take over the estate. But did he not offer you accommodation?’
John smiled. ‘The business was not of long duration. I had no need to stay.’
‘But I heard you order a room.’
‘Yes. I also have business with Lady Hobart.’
A waiter brought food and Stacey, his curiosity aroused, nodded towards the chair opposite him. ‘Please join me, I would be glad of company.’
‘Thank you.’ He lowered himself into the chair and watched as the waiter put out the food. Neither spoke until he had gone.
‘Lady Hobart,’ Stacey began, apparently casually. ‘I have been hearing about her, and nothing but good. Tell me, is she as virtuous as they say?’
‘She is a true lady, and I fear for her up at that house. I should not say this, but I do not think Cecil Hobart will treat her kindly. And there are a couple of loose fish up there I would not trust an inch.’
‘Ah, Sir Roland Bentwater and Mr Augustus Spike.’
‘You know them?’ the lawyer asked in surprise.
‘Hobart made us known to each other in the coach when we travelled out of London. Can’t say I liked the fellows.’
‘You were right. I would say they were toad-eaters, but if they are, they will find little to pick at up there.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I should not be telling you this, but you I have known you since you were a young shaver and I know I can trust you.’
‘Indeed you can.’ He had listened in astonishment as Hardacre recounted the terms of the late Lord Hobart’s will. ‘You mean he has inherited the estate, but no blunt?’ he asked.
‘No, but when he marries and has children, he will have the managing of their legacy. He wants me to overturn it, but it will take many months, and so he is looking for a compliant wife.’
‘Not Lady Hobart?’ he asked, appalled.
John gave a wry smile. ‘No, I doubt she would be compliant enough, but she is dependent on him. There are two children, little girls. ’ Tis a pity one was not a boy, there would never have been all this trouble. He would have been the heir…’
It was then Stacey had decided to accept Cecil’s invitation and see for himself what was going on. Julia was happy and well cared for at Malcomby Hall and a few days’ delay would make no difference. He was glad he had come, for no sooner had he presented himself, than other guests began to arrive, guests whose behaviour appalled him. He found himself feeling very sorry for Lady Hobart and meant to see she
came to no harm, but to do that, he must go along with Cecil and pretend to be in accord with the rest of the company. He could not tell Lady Hobart that, she might inadvertently give him away, and at the moment she was looking daggers at him. He smiled at her over his shoulder as he led Lady Grey into the dining room, but that only made her thrust her chin even higher into the air and turn away from him.
‘Come on, Stacey, why are you dawdling?’ Cecil called to him. ‘There will be time for dalliance later.’
He sighed and followed the company into the dining room.
Chapter Four
Charlotte wished with all her heart that Cecil’s uncouth guests would leave. For all their extravagant dress and superior airs, they were no more than riffraff. Even Lady Grey, if she really was a lady, was loudmouthed and frequently foxed. The only one who even made a pretence at gentlemanly behaviour was Viscount Darton, though even he sometimes indulged in Cecil’s favourite pastime of baiting her.
‘Come, Lady Hobart,’ he said, one evening at dinner. ‘Can you not find a smile for your guests?’ And he gave her a wink that brought the colour flooding to her face and made the rest of the company laugh, particularly Mr Spike, who brayed like a donkey.
‘You are Lord Hobart’s guests,’ she said, tight-lipped. ‘Not mine.’
‘You would not give us house room, is that what you are saying?’
‘I—’ She stopped. ‘It is not my house.’
‘No, it is not,’ Cecil concurred. ‘You, too, are a guest. It behoves you to behave like one.’
‘Drink too much, gamble and abuse the servants, you mean,’ she said with a snap. ‘I am sorry if I do not conform, but I have been brought up differently. And I thought you had. Your father—’
‘Ah, my father,’ Cecil said. ‘I begin to wonder just what my revered father meant to you. You seem to have been able to wind him round your thumb. If you wish to remain my guest, I suggest you resist the urge to bring his name into every conversation.’
She was about to make a sharp retort when she saw Stacey out of the corner of her eye slowly shaking his head, his eyes warning her to still her tongue. Although he had pretended to drink deeply, she noticed he had taken less than the others and was perfectly sober. Far from reassuring her, it put her more on her guard. What was his game? ‘Yes, by all means let us refrain from speaking of the late Lord Hobart,’ she said, standing up. ‘Gentlemen, I will leave you to your port wine and cigars.’