Madeleine Robins

by The Heiress Companion

  o0o

  “Mr. Greavesey.” Rowena spied the man before he found her. She had taken time to change into a day dress of sprigged muslin, to wash the dirt of the garden from her hands, and to repin her hair into a semblance of order. There was a militant glow in her eye and a combatant spring in her step that even her work in the garden had done little to mitigate. Only the general lowness of spirits which had afflicted her since her breakfast with Lyndon Bradwell kept her from enjoying what she regarded as the fray to come. She kept her voice to a civil level and her manner polite, at least for the moment.

  “Ah, Miss Cherwood!” Greavesey bowed, his long, pale face flushing with surprise or exertion or excitement — from his demeanor it would have been hard to judge which. “I was just come in search of you.”

  “How convenient,” she said drily. “Have you seen Lady Bradwell?”

  “Why, of course. That is why I was sent for, is it not?” His tone managed to be defensive and suggestive at the same time. Rowena, looking away briefly, realized that one of the housemaids was scrubbing in a determinedly uninterested fashion at one of the brass doorplates nearby.

  “Shall we go into the office?” she invited coolly.

  Rather meekly, Greavesey followed Miss Cherwood back to the office, away from the ears of housemaids. He thought that her manner toward him was improved, that she was a little more conciliatory, as well as somewhat subdued since their last interview together. Bearing in mind Mrs. Cherwood’s words of encouragement, he determined to speak his heart and mind again, spurred on by what he felt to be Miss Rowena’s unlooked-for civility and by the thought of her money.

  When the office door closed behind them, Rowena turned again to the doctor’s assistant. “How does Lady Bradwell go on today?”

  A little startled by what was, given his train of thought, a change in subject, Greavesey reported that Lady Bradwell, although a little tired, was in good trim. “In fact, I think that very soon now the doctor will advise that she may abandon her spectacles in all but the brightest light, and go about as she was used to do.”

  “Well, that’s a mercy at least,” Rowena murmured to herself. “Please sit, sir.”

  With a florid gesture Greavesey indicated that he only waited for his companion to seat herself. With a sigh, Rowena retreated to the chair behind the desk, and Greavesey settled in a huge straight-back chair that dwarfed his narrow frame.

  “I had wanted to speak with you, Mr. Greavesey; indeed, I think it is very good that I should have seen you before Lord Bradwell did, for I am certain that he would have done more than simply talk to you.” She gave the man such a meaningful glance that he was inspired with a sudden insight: Obviously Miss Cherwood was jealous of his attention to Miss Ambercot in the garden.

  “My dear Miss Cherwood,” he began, his voice ringing fulsomely over each syllable. “I assure you that I have been much misrepresented in that instance. There was nothing in my manner — nay, in my intentions —”

  “Miss Ambercot seemed to feel that there was, and certainly Lord Bradwell did. It’s of no matter to me, of course, but I rather thought you would be happy to avoid another facer if Lord Bradwell encounters you; he dislikes to have his fiancée importuned by — well, in any case, importuned,” Rowena continued blandly. “I suspect that it would be a very good thing for you if in future Dr. Cribbatt could contrive to make calls at Broak himself, rather than sending you. If you do not care to explain why to the doctor, send him to me and I shall make up some sort of Banbury tale that will satisfy him. My point is, Mr. Greavesey, that you are not welcome at Broak, and will become increasingly less welcome when Lord Bradwell and Miss Ambercot are married. Do you understand?”

  Certainly, Greavesey believed that he understood. Despite her disclaimers, Miss Cherwood cared enough to make a push to protect him from Dr.Cribbatt’s wrath. And perhaps did not want him in Miss Ambercot’s vicinity for fear that he would be tempted to approach her again.

  “Ah, Miss Cherwood, I am overwhelmed by your concern.” Rowena regarded him with disbelief. “But you needn’t fear that I shall press my presence upon Miss Ambercot. After all, who would attend her when you are near? My dear Miss Cherwood, your aunt, a very genteel and kindly lady, has assured me that I may hope, and so I shall not scruple to ask again if you will consider my proposals. I realize that I am not a wealthy man, nor yet a very young one, but I most ardently esteem and admire you, and I am sure that we would go on together very well. You would have your own establishment, and you would no longer be at the mercy of an employer — however kind the employer might be.”

  Rowena stared at him in absolute amazement. Greavesey, mistakenly encouraged by her silence, continued.

  “You are no longer in the — excuse me — the first flower of youth; it cannot have escaped you that your chances of marriage must slighten with — again, pray excuse me! — age, and there is much to be said for contracting a marriage with one who so ardently admires and esteems you....” He continued on, oblivious to the look of dawning outrage on Rowena’s face.

  She was thinking of Lyn’s awkward proposal, so earnest and unconsidered that they had finished by laughing. The thought made her heart twist; the pain gave her wrath new fire.

  “For mercy’s sake, Mr. Greavesey, stop!” She regarded him as levelly as she could. Greavesey, stunned by the force of the interruption, sank back into his great chair, chin waggling emptily. “I have no idea what my dear aunt could have told you to make you think that I was more receptive to your offers now than when you last tendered them, but I assure you that I have not changed and I shall not change. I do not see any particular disgrace in growing older; we must all do so, with whatever grace we can manage. As to growing old unmarried, I don’t think that is a worse fate than growing old married to a man I cordially detest. I had meant to be as gentle as possible if you even brought the subject up again, but I see that you are impervious to the polite No. I brought you in for no other reason than to inquire after my mistress’s health, and to tell you Lord Bradwell’s expressed wish that you no longer attend on his mother here. I did not bring you here to entertain your proposals of marriage, certainly not proposals couched in terms of insults! Nor shall I ever accept your heart, hand, or any other part of your anatomy, under any circumstances! And if you will not leave now, under your own power, I shall summon a footman to cast you out bodily.”

  Greavesey’s chin waggled on; he made no sign of removing from his chair.

  Miss Cherwood stood and went to the door, calling to the maid at her polishing to summon a footman; then she returned to the room and placed herself against the door as if blocking Greavesey’s exit. When a knock sounded, she stepped forward, saying to the person who entered: “Would you remove this man, please? He seems incapable of leaving on his own.”

  “If that is what you wish, Miss Cherwood,” Lyndon Bradwell said softly.

  o0o

  Rowena wheeled about to face him, and Greavesey, watching from his startled seat, realized that the focus of Miss Cherwood’s wrath had changed, and took advantage of the moment to slip from the room by the garden door.

  “It’s exactly what I wish, and I hope you do not mean to imply anything else, Mr. Bradwell,” Rowena managed to say icily.

  “You seem to make a habit of heated discussions with —” Lyn cast a look at Greavesey’s empty chair. “Well, he’s made his escape now, in any case. But I wonder why the man makes such a determined effort to win you if you give him no encouragement at all.”

  Rowena choked.

  “Lyndon Bradwell, of all the horrible, ham-fisted, stupid —” Words failed her momentarily. “I brought the man in here to find out about your mamma, since I dislike to air your family’s business in front of the parlor maids! And to suggest that since your brother is likely to murder him if he catches the man at Broak, he had as well to send the doctor next time, rather than himself. And quite unheralded the man broke into his repulsive protestations — if you please, I am so aged t
hat I had best marry at once, being in imminent danger of dying an ape-leader. As to encouraging him, I believe it was my saintly Aunt Doro who egged him on, and were I not a lady — which I begin to doubt — I would happily throw her from the house as well. Now you have the gall to accuse me of leading Mr. Greavesey into a Fool’s Paradise? Good God! Leaves only for Mrs. Coffee to accuse me of rifling the silver cabinets!”

  Miss Cherwood dropped heavily into the chair recently vacated by Greavesey. Above all things she would have liked to burst heartily into tears, but not in front of Lyn Bradwell. Certainly not in front of Lyn Bradwell. Instead, she fanned her anger again, turning it into a weapon.

  “One thing I must say for Mr. Greavesey, however: He didn’t seem oppressed by the notion of my money. It didn’t seem at all improbable that I should wish to marry him, even with my great wealth.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “Even despite the fact that I had made it very plain to him that I had rather marry a toad. God, I am beginning to detest men! What a mutton-headed, self-centered —”

  “Rowena,” Lyn said quietly.

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Renna. Sweetheart —” A warm note was in his voice, almost a caress. Rowena fought the temptation to look up and see if the caring tone was reflected in his eyes. No, even if she wanted him to have changed his mind, it could not be now, with the bad taste of Greavesey’s presence on the hour. “Rowena?”

  “I can’t listen now. I cannot. Even if I wanted to...” she murmured.

  “And you don’t?” Now Lyn’s voice cooled.

  “I can’t listen now. Lyn, I can’t tell what I’m feeling. I’m so angry, and so —” Her voice faltered, died away completely. Her head drooped.

  Lyn, watching her, wanted for a moment to touch her, hold her, tell her that he was all manner of fools, that he loved her, wanted her, and that his most pressing need at that moment was to take the desperate note of confusion from her voice and banish it forever. But perhaps she was right. This was not the time. He made himself stand away, ignored his own need to touch her; his hand, poised above her dark hair, pulled back.

  “Later,” he said quietly, and left the room.

  Rowena, huddled in the chair, was barely aware of his departure. “I’m just so very tired...” she said sorrowingly to her hands, folded before her face; then, with a shuddering fury, she gave way to her tears.

  Chapter Twelve

  “O for heaven’s sake, I cannot tell which of you is the more foolish,” Lady Bradwell cried disgustedly to her son. “Of all the mutton-headed, straw-witted, ham-fisted dimwits I have ever heard of, you take the cake! And as for Rowena! I don’t know which of you is the worst. Here I have assumed forever that Jack was the stupid one in the family, and you must needs make a mull of your courting like a seventeen-year-old, half mad with calf love!”

  “Thank you, Mamma.” Lyn bowed ironically. “As a matter of fact, I misdoubt there is anything you can say to me that I have not already said to myself. But if I have come to my senses, can you suggest a way to bring Rowena to hers?”

  He settled himself dispiritedly at the foot of the lounge and gazed at his mother with a glance as appealing as any he had trained on her when a green boy. For a moment Lady Bradwell was oddly touched, longing to comfort him now as she had that boy, and to assure him that everything would come right in the end.

  “Well, have you come to your senses?” she asked at last, gruffly.

  “I believe so. I still think it is folly to marry when I have so little to put toward our establishment — I can keep her, but not in the style I should like to do.”

  “Lyn, my dear, do you think that Renna cares a particle for your style? You know her history, don’t you? Think, boy: If Rowena was willing to turn down a very advantageous offer of marriage because she disliked the man who made it — not to mention several other offers I know of when she lived in Brussels with her parents — and was willing to take a place as companion rather than stay with her aunt’s family, surely she knows her own mind! And don’t you think that you owe her the respect of believing her when she tells you so? No —” She raised a hand to stop all possibility of protest. “Of course you cannot know what Rowena will feel in five years, or even five months. A great deal can happen in a day, let alone a year. Rowena seems to love you, my dear — I shall not argue with her taste, but I sometimes wonder about her good sense. And of all the fustian things to charge her with, a flirtation with Greavesey is certainly the most —”

  “I know, ma’am, I know. It was ludicrous, ridiculous, ill advised, and addle-pated in the extreme. And I would still like to plant that funereal bean pole a facer and show him the door, after which I would like to take Mrs. Cherwood and —”

  “Now, that is more to the purpose,” Lady Bradwell agreed. “We must do something to rid Broak of Margaret’s mother, and as soon as possible; else I see very little chance for you to pursue your romance profitably. I wonder if we can contrive to send her back to London and keep Margaret here in Devon? I shall have to think on that.” Straightening the disordered fichu on her gown Lady Bradwell fixed her son with a glance of purpose. “Now, I suggest that you go out and shoot at crows or do something, Lyn dear. You never have dealt well with idleness. Any word from Kelvin yet? No? Well, I expect we shall hear something soon. Go ahead now, and if you see Meg or Mr. Ambercot, send them to me.”

  “Your servant in all things, Mamma.” Lyn bowed over her hand with a pretty flourish.

  “If it were in all things, my dear, we should not be in this stupid fix now. Go ahead.” His mother rapped dismissively at his knuckles with her tambour frame.

  Margaret Cherwood and Ulysses Ambercot appeared in Lady Bradwell’s room an hour later, located finally by Drummey, strolling in the orchard counting green apples and laughing. Drummey, having delivered the summons, returned himself to the house to ruminate on the distressing turn of the young for levity.

  “Lady B, you wished to see me? Us?” Margaret shot a conscious look at her betrothed, standing just behind her.

  “Come in, children. Close the door.” Lady Bradwell waved an impatient hand. “Now, I am about to embroil you in plotting, and Meggy my dear, you are not to take anything I say about...”

  “Mamma.” Margaret supplied flatly. “I assure you that I have no illusions about Mamma, Lady Bradwell. I must love her, I suppose, but that don’t mean I cannot see when she is being impossible.”

  “Well then,” Lady Bradwell continued, somewhat relieved by this carte blanche. “I think the time has come to return your mamma to London. A lamentably short stay of course, but there are times when things cannot work out just to our satisfaction, can they?” The polite regret in Louisa Bradwell’s voice was belied by the gleam of amusement in her eyes.

  “If you can get my belle-mamma to return to Town you have my blessings, ma’am, and my fullest cooperation. But how do you prepare to do it?” Ulysses asked.

  “Very simply, my dear. I propose to send Margaret and Jane packing off to Wilesby this afternoon. I know that it is still early for you to be traveling, Margaret, but you have mended quite nicely, and I think you can take half an hour in a closed carriage with no great ills attendant.”

  “I’ll go anywhere you wish me to, ma’am, but will that not mean that Mamma will only follow me back to Wilesby?”

  Lady Bradwell smiled. “I am very much afraid that I am about to have a relapse,” she said softly. “Margaret, has your mamma ever had the scarlet fever?”

  “I’ve no idea, but I can tell you,” Margaret’s eyes shone with uncharacteristic glee, “Mamma don’t like to be around sick people. When my sisters and I were ill she was used to retire to her room with a roast onion, the laudanum bottle, and a box of pastilles which she burned ’til the air was blue, and refused to see any of us until all of us had been sworn healthy by the doctor. I should imagine that scarlet fever would work very nicely indeed.”

  “Wonderful. Now then, Ulysses, may I ask you to take your sisters an
d Margaret back to Wilesby at once? You had best tell Anne what we are about — better, send her to me and I will make her part of the plot. And then return to me here? I have further use for you. As for Jack — well, if you see him, explain to him; perhaps he can help, else he’d do as well to join Lyn at shooting. Now, Margaret my dear, if only your mamma will be so obliging as to take her part correctly.”

  “I think you may depend upon it, Lady B.” Margaret smiled. “But Renna —”

  “My dear child, this is mostly for your cousin’s sake! You have Ulysses to take your part. She hasn’t a cavalier. Yet,” she added with a slight smile. “Now, go ahead. We’ve a great deal to accomplish here.”

  o0o

  Jane Ambercot and Lord Bradwell were located in the stables and apprised of Lady Bradwell’s sudden “relapse.” Jane smiled evenly: She had no great affection for Margaret’s mother, who constantly suggested remedies for her many faults of complexion, figure, and deportment. Lord Bradwell was not as quick as his fiancée to understand the point of his mother’s plotting, but years of trusting his mamma’s judgment, coupled with a growing dislike of Dorothea Cherwood, ensured that he fell readily into the plan. It was he, in fact, who suggested that he be the instrument to return Margaret and the Ambercot sisters to Wilesby Hall, leaving Ulysses free to support Lady Bradwell on the instant. There was a pretty leave-taking between Margaret and Ulysses; Jane went in search of her younger sister and returned to the front hall with Eliza rebelling strongly at this sudden banishment, and the party set off in one of the Bradwell carriages.

  Dorothea Cherwood had amused herself, since Greavesey’s departure from the garden room, in discussing courtship strategies with Eliza Ambercot, and in envisaging Rowena married to Greavesey and Margaret married to Ulysses Ambercot, while cursorily continuing her work on an embroidered chair cover. When Lady Bradwell appeared at the door, a trifle disarranged and rather flushed, Mrs. Cherwood rose with great ceremony to greet her, pleased, inwardly, that she presented a much better appearance than her hostess.