Lord Runthorne's Dilemma: A Regency Romance

by Steele, Sarah-Jane

  She nodded, unwilling to trust her voice again, and closed her eyes. Elizabeth drifted into a clean, healing sleep.

  ***

  The next time she awoke, it was to Lady Delphine’s strident tone. She lay still, her eyes closed, listening.

  “It pains me to say this, Edina,” Lady Delphine said, not sounding at all pained, “but that girl needs to be taken firmly in hand.”

  “I do wish you would keep your voice down a little, Delphine,” Aunt Edina said, “Elizabeth needs to sleep.”

  “She needs to hear what I have to say. Really, Edina, first she tries to entice Runthorne away from Aurelia, although I do not know, I am sure, how she thought she could manage that. Then she is found in a most compromising situation with Captain Fitzalan.”

  “Given how ill she has been, I hardly think that anyone other than those of a malicious turn of mind would believe her to be compromised, Delphine.”

  “Well, really!” Lady Delphine said. “I tell you to your head, Edina Maybourne, that if you assume you can rescue that girl from her recklessness then you are an imbecile. Who knows what mischief she and Captain Fitzalan got up to before they were found? They were alone in that maze for four or five hours. She was covered in mud and had her hair half down her back.”

  “How do you know how long they were there, Delphine?” Aunt Edina said. “I find it curious that you know so much about the situation.” Elizabeth could hear the tapping of a fingernail on the night table. “You were the one to find the key to the maze, Delphine, how did that come about?”

  Lady Delphine did not answer straight away. “It was self-evident,” she said, at last. “Mr Compton saw them on the way to the maze, so of course it must have been nearly five hours.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Well, it hardly matters how long exactly they were locked in there,” Lady Delphine said. “Their betrothal needs to be announced or she will be ruined beyond repair.”

  “I have no doubt she will be able to withstand a little malicious tittle-tattle,” Aunt Edina said.

  Lady Delphine laughed. “Oh, Edina, you are so naïve. It is not as though there has not been gossip about her before. In fact, I have been hearing more than a few rumours about her recently. Nasty rumours.”

  “Delphine Lacey,” Aunt Edina snapped, “I hesitate to insult any guest in this house but I have to tell you that you have a small, mean soul. Good day.”

  There was a gasp of outrage and the sound of the door slamming shut.

  The edge of the bed sank and Elizabeth opened her eyes.

  “How much did you hear, Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “I think I heard most of it. Is she right? Will there be more gossip?”

  Aunt Edina did not answer directly. “What do you remember about what happened?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Nothing beyond arriving at the maze,” she said, feeling helpless.

  “Why were you there, Elizabeth?” Aunt Edina patted Elizabeth’s hand. “I do not reproach you, my dear, but it was really foolish of you to be alone with Captain Fitzalan.”

  Elizabeth plucked at the coverlet, pulling at a loose thread. She had promised not to betray Mary and Charles’ secret until they were ready and she would not break it, not even to take the anxious expression from her dear aunt’s face.

  “Charles is a friend, nothing more,” she said.

  Aunt Edina sighed. “It is really most unfortunate. If only you had not been locked in.”

  “I do not understand how that happened,” Elizabeth said.

  “We do not know for sure, my love,” Aunt Edina said. There was a note of caution in her voice. “I imagine that one of the grounds men thought the maze was empty and locked the gate when it started to rain.” She did not meet Elizabeth’s eyes. “The key apparently fell out. Lady Delphine seems to have found it in the long grass. It was lucky she did, although I cannot imagine how she saw it.”

  “How fortunate,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yes, wasn’t it?” Then Aunt Edina sighed. “I dislike saying this, my love, but Lady Delphine is correct about one thing. There will be a great deal of speculation. I shall ask your uncle to speak to Captain Fitzalan.”

  “No.” Elizabeth was so shocked she sat up. She slumped back, her head spinning.

  “Lie down, you are still weak.” Aunt Edina stroked her brow. “Now be sensible, my love. Captain Fitzalan is a nice young man, he will be a kind husband and it is beyond time for you to marry.”

  “No, I cannot,” Elizabeth insisted.

  “I am not sure you have any choice. Indeed, your uncle would have spoken to Captain Fitzalan before, only…”

  Her hesitation told Elizabeth more eloquently then words how seriously ill she had been.

  ***

  Runthorne paced, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.

  The house was a great deal quieter now. Most of the company had left once it had become known how ill Elizabeth was. Only Charles, Aurelia and her parents remained as guests. Although nobody had said anything about the circumstances in which she had been found, Charles had received one or two sidelong glances. Some of the more unkind members of the house party had even cut him.

  Runthorne gritted his teeth. Once again he felt the overwhelming surge of jealousy that had crushed him when he had seen Elizabeth in Charles’ arms. In that instant he had known that his vow to marry Aurelia and leave her to Charles had been a lie.

  He looked over at his friend, his fist curling. Charles was staring out of the drawing room window. The fresh sunshine bathed his face but there were shadows under his eyes. Runthorne was sure that he was not seeing the elegant sweep of lawn that fronted the house, nor the clear blue sky that had followed the days of heavy rain. Instead, as he watched, Charles glanced over at Miss Granger, pain written all over his face.

  Runthorne frowned and unclenched his fingers. For a man in love with Elizabeth, Charles was behaving in a decidedly odd manner. He turned his attention to Miss Granger. Her back was rigid, turned towards Charles and there was a tension in her shoulders that spoke of a determination not to look at him. Her face was white, almost as pinched as Elizabeth’s had been. She was, Runthorne decided, devastated.

  For the first time, he began to question his assumptions. He had thought Charles too old for Miss Granger, and her too young to know her own heart. Perhaps he had been wrong. He bowed his head and continued pacing, lost in thought.

  “Oh, do sit down, Runthorne,” Aurelia said. She was sitting next to Miss Granger but had been deep in quiet conversation with Mr Compton.

  Runthorne grimaced. What was he doing here?

  Again.

  The departure of most of the guests had cancelled Aurelia’s theatrical ambitions, something she had sulked about for days, but it appeared Mr Compton felt no need to abandon her.

  Aurelia pouted. “You are being tiresome, Runthorne,” she said. “I declare we have had no amusement for days.”

  “Some would say that riotous amusement would be inappropriate given how ill Miss Hampton has been.”

  “Oh for goodness sake, Runthorne, Mother tells me she has quite recovered. I would not put it past her to feign illness just to spoil our entertainment.” Aurelia tilted her pretty nose and sniffed. “What do you think, Mary?”

  To his surprise, rather than leaping to her friend’s defence, Miss Granger laughed. It was a harsh, ugly sound. “I am sure I do not know what she would do.” Now she glanced over her shoulder at Charles. “I thought I knew her, but she has shown that she is capable of anything.”

  Charles winced. “Mary, I assure you-”

  “I do not believe you have the right to use my given name.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  “Well, gosh, here’s an idea,” Mr Compton said, his voice over loud in the silence. “What say we all go for a ride? The sun is shining and I assure you it is quite warm enough for the ladies.” He looked at Aurelia, in much the same way a puppy would gaze at its mistress. �
��The ground is a little heavy, but I know as skilled a horsewoman as Miss Lacey would have no difficulty.”

  Aurelia shrugged and her expression was indifferent. “I suppose that might be amusing,” she said. “I am sure there is no other diversion in this house.”

  Mr Compton leapt to his feet and bowed over Aurelia’s hand, drawing her to her feet. “Allow me,” he said, Runthorne thought, a great deal too eagerly.

  Aurelia bestowed her stunning smile on him. “Thank you, Mr Compton,” she said. “I am so glad to see that chivalry is not completely dead. Even though,” now she looked at Runthorne as though gauging his reaction, “the atmosphere in here is positively funereal.” Her smile became spiteful. “What say you, Runthorne, will you come?”

  He shook his head. “Thank you, no, Aurelia. I prefer the company I find in this house.”

  Aurelia’s smile froze. “As you wish. Come Mary.” Without waiting to see if Miss Granger followed her, Aurelia swept from the room.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I really wish you would stay in bed,” Aunt Edina said.

  Elizabeth tried not to lean too heavily on her aunt’s arm as she walked slowly to the armchair by her window. If Aunt Edina realised how weak and unsteady Elizabeth actually felt, she would be bundled straight back into bed. Elizabeth was not sure she could bear another minute under those covers.

  “I am so much better, now,” she said, instead, sliding her slippers over the carpet. The effort of lifting her feet seemed too much and her aunt would not be able to see them under her long nightgown.

  “I am sure I do not know what I am to do with you, Elizabeth.” Aunt Edina shook her head, her smile belying her scolding tone. “You are a great deal too stubborn for your own good. I wish-” she broke off, with a sigh.

  “I know, my dear aunt,” Elizabeth said, settling in the chair, “but I cannot marry Charles.” She pressed her cheek to her aunt’s hand. “Trust me, I would do almost anything to spare you pain, but not that.”

  Aunt Edina stroked her hair. “I know, my dear.” She shook her head. “Well, we will come about. You must not worry. Concentrate on getting well, although I am sure getting out of bed will be a major setback.”

  Elizabeth smiled as her aunt fussed around her, setting a cushion at her back and a rug over her knees.

  “Now you just sit there quietly, my love, I must go to attend to our guests. Thank heavens so few have remained. Although, I would have thought common decency should have sent them all away.” She set a bell at Elizabeth’s right hand. “Simpson has been told to listen out for you so ring if you need anything. She is down the hall.” She hesitated. “Are you sure you will be all right?”

  “Of course, Aunt, you must not worry. I shall just sit here for a while.”

  ”If you are absolutely sure, my dear.” Aunt Edina said and left Elizabeth alone.

  At last.

  Elizabeth stretched her arms over her head, luxuriating in the privacy. She had not been alone, at least whist she was awake, since she had fallen ill. Her arms felt heavy and she lowered them into her lap and gazed out of the window. The sunshine was bright and it fell warmly onto her face. She leaned forward and, with a little difficulty, managed to open the window.

  The scent of summer flooded into the room, chasing out the reminder of illness. Elizabeth smiled, it felt as though a weight was lifted from her chest and she breathed deeply. A small bird flew out from the ivy, startling her. She laughed and lay back in her chair and closed her eyes, listening to the gentle sounds of the summer day.

  A bird called in the distance. Close by a bee buzzed. Elizabeth frowned. There were footsteps under her window. Pacing, ten steps, pausing, the grating of a foot turning, then pacing again a further ten steps. Again the turn. Curious, Elizabeth opened her eyes and levered herself to her feet. The rug fell unnoticed to the floor. She peered out of the window.

  It was Lord Runthorne. His head was bowed, as though he was troubled. Elizabeth bit her lip. Whilst she had been confined to bed she had had ample time to think. Her thoughts had not pleased her. Her behaviour had been unforgivable and her conscience had not spared her.

  He deserves to know the truth, even if it means humiliation for you.

  You owe him that.

  Elizabeth sighed. She needed to speak to him. Her hand hovered over the bell. Then she hesitated. Simpson was her aunt’s maid and Elizabeth did not think she could rely on her discretion. She glanced out of the window again. He was still there.

  The wardrobe seemed a mile away but Elizabeth was determined. Step, by hesitant step, she crossed the room, her hand resting on the furniture for balance. Finally, shaking with the effort, she reached the wardrobe and paused and waited for the room to stop spinning. After a moment she managed to fumble the door open and forced herself to calm down.

  Lord Runthorne would still be there. He had to be. She pulled out an old gown. It was not pretty, but it was modest, which was more than could be said for her shift.

  It took longer than Elizabeth wished, but at last all the buttons were fastened. She felt stronger now, as though the very act of moving was aiding her recovery. However, she felt dressing her hair was beyond her. Instead she left it in the long plait she had worn whilst ill just pushing a few stray strands behind her ears.

  Elizabeth listened at her door for a moment. She did not hear anything. The door eased open silently and Elizabeth trod down the hall, one hand against the wall to support her. Now she could hear Simpson in another room, singing a psalm softly and a little off-key.

  Ahead, half hidden in an odd angle of the wall, there was a small servants’ door. Elizabeth opened it and, with a glance over her shoulder, slipped through.

  Only when the door closed behind her did Elizabeth pause and take a breath. She was a little dizzy now and had to lean for a moment against the undressed brick wall. Dust rose and tickled her nose, making her sneeze.

  Stone steps curved downwards and, placing her feet carefully, Elizabeth followed them. At the bottom a corridor led away to the left towards the kitchens. Elizabeth ignored it. A door in front of her gave her access to the terrace under her bedroom window. Above her, hidden in the ivy, a bird trilled.

  “Lord Runthorne.”

  He turned, his face startled. “Elizabeth. What are you doing out here?” He walked towards her and his nearness seemed to envelope Elizabeth in warmth, comforting her as nothing else could.

  She put out her hand to ward him off. She could not think clearly if he was too close. But he took her hand, leading her to a low stone bench.

  “You cannot be well enough to be out of your room.” His tone was chiding, concerned and Elizabeth’s lips twitched. She ducked her head, hiding it.

  “I must speak to you.”

  “I thought you were.” Now he sounded amused, but she sensed a strain beneath his banter.

  “My lord, please.” Her hand was still in his and it took all her strength of will to take it back. “I am serious.”

  “Elizabeth, I would consider it a great favour if, between ourselves at least, you would call me James like you used to.”

  “It would not be proper.”

  “Yet it would make me happy.”

  Elizabeth stared out over the lawn. It was browning under the heat of the sun, nothing to draw the eye, but she kept her eyes fixed. She did not want to even glance at him, to see the look of amusement fade to be replaced by embarrassment.

  Elizabeth licked her lips. Now the moment had arrived, she could not find the words.

  “Elizabeth, what is the matter?”

  The warmth of his voice eased the pressure in her throat. “I am sorry, my lord, I have done you a terrible disservice. I should have told you the truth when you asked me why I had jilted you.”

  He went completely still next to her, almost as though he did not dare to breath.

  “I could not marry you, because I loved you. There,” she laughed a touch hysterically, “I have said it. How foolish it sounds. But, never
theless, it is the truth.”

  “I do not think I understand, Elizabeth. If you loved me, why not marry me?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Nothing would have made me happier. Had I thought you loved me in return.” Now she forced herself to look at him, expecting him to be mortified, but he seemed puzzled. Elizabeth bit her lip.

  “Lord Runthorne-”

  “James.”

  Elizabeth ducked her head. “Very well, James,” she said. “The evening before we were to marry, Lady Delphine came to see me. She told me that you did not care for me, that you were marrying me for my money.” Elizabeth shook her head, giving herself a moment.

  “I did not want to believe her,” she continued after a moment. “I argued with her, but I feared she was right. I could not spend the rest of my life with you, knowing that you did not care for me.” Above them, the song bird trilled again, mocking her.

  He took her hand, stroking her fingers as though he handled a rare and shy animal. “Foolish Elizabeth, you should have come to me. How could you believe her?”

  “How could I not? Apart from my money, I had nothing. I have eyes in my head and my mirror tells me that my appearance is no more than passable.”

  She blinked, startled, as he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Elizabeth, trust me when I say that I would never have asked you to marry me if I did not love you.

  “Love must, in short,

  Keep fond and true,

  Thro' good report,

  And evil too.”

  “Do not reprove me with that song. You say you loved me. Well, you are betrothed to Miss Lacey now, do you love her?”

  Lord Runthorne’s hand dropped away, as though she had stung him. Suddenly, he also seemed to find the view enthralling.

  “No, Elizabeth, I do not,” he said, finally. “Aurelia was a mistake and I was an idiot. I should never have become betrothed to her.” He glanced back at Elizabeth and gave her a sad smile. “But I have to have an heir, you see, and as the one woman I cared for had spurned me, it no longer seemed to matter who I married.”

  Gazing deep into his eyes, Elizabeth believed him.