by Joan Wolf
Claire said, “I thought I might ask Simon. He’s home from school.”
Geoffrey frowned. “The earl’s son? He won’t come to a picnic with the likes of us.”
“He would if he was invited,” Claire said.
Charlotte leaned forward. “Claire, if he comes he’ll just put a damper on everyone’s fun. We’ll all be so conscious of how we talk and what we say…. It’s not even worth having a picnic if that’s going to happen.”
“Simon will fit in just fine!” Claire said passionately. “He’s not a snob!”
Geoffrey said, “I think Charlotte’s right. We don’t need some lordship condescending to us.”
Claire put down her pen, pushed back her chair and stood up. “Fine. If Simon can’t come then I’m not coming either.”
She stalked to the door.
Geoffrey said, “Claire, don’t be like that!”
She shot him a burning look over her shoulder and banged the door behind her. He looked at his sister in bewilderment. “What was that all about?”
“It’s just … When it comes to Lord Woodbridge, Claire is totally blind, Geoff. Just because she’s his friend she thinks that we can be his friends too. Mama says she has no understanding of English social distinctions. Lord Woodbridge may be her friend, but she’s the granddaughter of a French comte. There’s not a drop of noble blood in our family’s veins, and the Welbournes have never done more than nod distantly to Mama and Papa after church.”
Geoffrey said thoughtfully, “Perhaps it would be a good idea to invite him after all. Let Claire see his true stripes.”
“It would not be a good idea,” Charlotte said emphatically. “That family is so superior – Mama says that the vicar once asked Lady Welbourne to give out the prizes at the village school, and she looked at him as if he was asking her to wade into a pile of manure. In addition to all this, Geoffrey, I’ve seen Lord Woodbridge and he looks like some kind of Greek god. All the girls will be goggling over him.”
Geoff blinked. “Are you funning me?”
“No.”
Geoffrey frowned. “Just how friendly is Claire with this Greek god?”
“They’re very good friends. I hardly see her when he’s home. They’re together all the time. He even lets her ride his horses.”
Geoffrey’s forehead smoothed. “That’s it, then. Claire butters him up because he lets her ride his horses. Claire would butter up the devil if he had a good horse for her to ride.”
“Geoffrey!” Charlotte said, shocked.
He grinned at her. “Only funning.” He started toward the door. “It looks as if you’re going to have to write all the invitations yourself, Charlotte.”
“There aren’t that many. I only asked Claire to help as a way of getting her to come over. When Simon is home it’s as if I don’t exist anymore.”
“Are you jealous of him?” Geoffrey asked incredulously.
Charlotte bit her lip. “Claire is my best friend, Geoff. We have so much fun together. She even made taking lessons with Miss Harris fun. But … she likes Simon more than me.” Her voice died to a whisper. “I suppose I am a little jealous.”
It was a measure of his new maturity that he didn’t tease her. Instead he tactfully changed the subject. “Are the parents invited to this picnic?”
“Of course.”
“Mr. and Mrs. O’Rourke will make Claire come.”
Charlotte brightened. “That’s true. Mrs. O’Rourke and Mama are bosom bows. Claire will have to come.”
“Preferably without the Greek god,” Geoffrey said with a grin.
“I don’t know,” Charlotte said gloomily. “He’s pretty friendly with Claire’s mother and father as well.” She waved a hand at her brother. “Now go away and let me finish writing these invitations.”
Geoffrey went.
# # #
When Mrs. Weston learned that Claire had wanted to invite Lord Woodbridge to her picnic, and that Charlotte had refused, the squire’s wife almost had heart palpitations. She scolded a sullen Charlotte for losing the chance of having a real lord visit Winsted, and she immediately sent a note to the O’Rourke cottage telling Claire that Lord Woodbridge would be very welcome to come to their simple little picnic.
Claire asked Simon that very afternoon and he said he would be delighted to go.
Five days later Liam, Elise, Claire and Simon walked out onto the back lawn of the squire’s charming manor house and joined the party of young people and their parents already gathered there. Claire introduced Simon to the Westons and the squire shook his hand while Mrs. Weston bobbed a curtsey and said breathlessly, “We are so pleased you could join us Lord Woodbridge.”
Simon smiled his attractive grave smile. “It was very kind of you to invite me. Thank you.”
Mrs. Weston flushed. “It was our pleasure, my lord.”
Elise distracted her friend by asking her a question about the food and Simon was able to turn back to Claire. The squire said jovially, “You two go on and join the youngsters. I believe the boys are getting up a game of bowls.”
Claire introduced Simon to the group of younger people she had come to know over the years, and Simon assured them he would hate to be called Lord Woodbridge by Claire’s friends, that his name was Simon. The bowls game started, and Simon soon disarmed his new acquaintances by playing well and enthusiastically. Simon knew how to get along with boys – his schoolmates had elected him prefect every year because they both liked and trusted him – and soon they were all calling him Simon with complete unselfconsciousness.
Claire played battledore and shuttlecock with the girls, then joined in with the boys at bowls. By the time they were called to eat the whole group were laughing and joking comfortably.
Geoffrey was the only one who did not seem pleased by Simon. The two young men circled each other cautiously during the entire afternoon, taking the other’s measure. Claire, who was enjoying herself enormously, never noticed.
“A nice group,” Simon commented as they drove together back to the O’Rourke’s house.
She smiled up at him. “It was grand having you there.”
“Then I’m glad I went.”
When they reached the O’Rourke cottage they found a groom waiting for them. “His lordship returned a few hours ago, Lord Woodbridge. He wants you to come directly to the abbey.”
Claire felt Simon stiffen beside her. Liam, who had already jumped down from the gig he was driving, said, “He’ll come right along, Johnny.”
“Yes, sir.” The groom smiled, showing a front tooth missing, then trotted back to the trap to wait. Liam and Simon looked at each other.
“He’s heard from Jarvis’ solicitor,” Simon said.
“It looks like that, boyo. Do you want me to come with you?”
“No! I don’t want your name involved in this, Mr. O’Rourke. I don’t want to be the cause of you losing your position.”
The three O’Rourke’s were looking worriedly at Simon. His chin was up, his eyes were level, and he did not look young any more. “I can handle this on my own,” he said.
“All right,” Liam replied equably. “You better go right away.”
“I will.” Simon’s crystal blue eyes met Claire’s large, brown ones. “It will be all right,” he said to her.
She smiled encouragingly. “Of course it will.”
“I brought the trap for you, my lord,” the groom said.
“I see that,” Simon said. “Thank you, Johnnie.”
Claire forced herself not to reach for him as he swung up into the flat front seat of the trap. Simon took up the reins, backed the horses so he could make an easy turn, and drove briskly down the path that would take him to the abbey. He did not look back.
CHAPTER SIX
When Simon entered the abbey and asked for his father, a footman directed him to the library. He went along to the appointed room, his heart thumping but his lithe walk quiet on the marble tiles of the hallway. The library door was partially op
en and, as Simon raised his hand to push it open all the way, he heard his father’s deep voice. Without a second thought, he stopped his motion and listened.
The countess’ voice came next, shrill and furious. “Why did you never tell me that Woodbridge was getting this huge inheritance from the Jarvis family? One hundred thousand pounds! He gets one hundred thousand pounds, and you tell me you haven’t enough money for me to go up to London this year? You’re unbelievable. You went through all your first wife’s money, and now you’ve gone through mine? You had better find a way to get your hands on that trust fund, James. And once you do, there will be no more gambling! Do I make myself clear?”
One hundred thousand pounds! Simon’s heart leaped in his chest.
“I believe the old man tied it up pretty tightly, Helen.” The earl’s voice sounded grim.
“There has to be a way to break it. I never heard of such a thing. It’s true my Papa inserted a clause in our marriage contract that some of his money would come back to me if you died first, but that’s not an unusual arrangement. This arrangement is … well, it’s ridiculous. And why did you never tell me about it?”
“I never told anyone. I had almost forgot it myself untiI Pitt received this peremptory letter from Jarvis’ solicitor. Woodbridge will have to be informed. That banker fellow, Richard Jarvis, is named as the administrator of the trust. I’m going to tell him the trust can damn well pay for Woodbridge’s Oxford education. I don’t see why I should have to come up with the blunt when there’s one hundred thousand pounds coming to him.”
“There’s a trustee for the money?”
“Until Woodbridge turns twenty one.”
The countess’ voice rose. “Why weren’t you named trustee? You’re his father!”
The earl’s laugh was bitter. “The old man didn’t trust me. He wanted the marriage because I could give his daughter a title and his prospective grandson an earldom. He shelled out a huge amount of cash, Helen, to pull me out of River Tick, and he told me in no uncertain terms that I wouldn’t get another penny.” He paused and his voice hardened. “I’ve always had a suspicion the Jarvises were Jews originally.”
“Jews!” The countess was aghast.
“Oh, they traipse off regularly to Church of England services, but I’ve always wondered about their origins. They came from somewhere in Austria, I believe. I doubt that Jarvis was their original name.”
Simon stood like a statue in the hall listening to this disgusting conversation. His poor mother. How could her father have forced her to marry such a despicable man? It horrified him to think his father’s blood ran in his own veins. He couldn’t bear to listen to another word so he knocked once, pushed open the door and stepped into the room.
# # #
“There you are, Woodbridge.”
“Good afternoon, Father. Good afternoon, Stepmother.”
The countess stared at him, her light gray eyes cold as ice. She hated to be addressed as ‘stepmother,’ and Simon knew it.
“I have some good news for you,” the earl said. He was dressed for riding and looked impatient to be off. “It seems that your mother’s father left some money for you to inherit when you turn eighteen.”
“My mother’s father?” Simon said, looking surprised. “Do you mean my grandfather?”
“Of course he means your grandfather,” the countess snapped.
Simon’s face was a mask of innocent politeness. “It’s just that this is the first time I’ve heard my father say anything about my mother’s family. I’ve sometimes wondered if perhaps she dropped from the sky.”
“Watch your tongue, young man,” the earl growled.
“And how much money is this inheritance, Father?” Simon inquired.
“I’m not certain. We shall have to let the solicitors work it out.”
Will he never stop lying? Simon thought in despair.
The earl was continuing, “The money won’t be yours to spend until you turn twenty-one, Woodbridge, so don’t start thinking you’re rich.”
“Whose money is it to spend until then, my lord?”
“Your mother’s eldest brother has been named your trustee. He will decide how much money to advance you until you are old enough to make your own decisions.”
“I have an uncle too? This is certainly a surprise. How is it I have never met any member of my mother’s family?” Simon was careful to keep his voice politely inquisitive, not confrontational.
Lady Welbourne said, “Your mother’s family are bankers, Woodbridge. Merchants. Cits. Of course your father didn’t want people like that coming into his home as if they were family.”
“But they were family,” Simon pointed out. “My family.”
The countess was so furious she almost hissed. “You should thank your father for not allowing the taint of commerce to stain the purity of your Welbourne blood. And how do you repay him for his care of you? You spend all your time with that Irish brat! Her father is a horse trainer, for God’s sake.” The countess’ eyes narrowed to slits of gray ice. “Why do you think I have kept you away from my son all these years? I did not wish Charles to be contaminated by such a one as you.”
Simon stared at her for one, long, unbelieving second. “Do you really think that way?”
“Enough!” The earl shot his wife a hard look and turned to Simon. “I will inform you when Pitt hears more about this issue. That is all for now, Woodbridge.”
Simon slowly removed his gaze from the countess’ face. “Yes, my lord,” he said, walked to the door and shut it firmly behind him.
# # #
“She actually said she wouldn’t let you see Charlie because you’d contaminate him?” Claire asked in horrified disbelief.
“Her precise words.”
They were on horseback, riding side by side along the well-kept bridle paths of Welbourne. Simon was riding Tim Tam, one of Liam’s not-quite-fast-enough thoroughbreds. Liam liked the animal’s personality and athleticism and thought he would make an exceptional hunter. Simon was trying to get him accustomed to going through the woods.
A rabbit hopped across the trail and Tim Tam shied and spun around. Claire, who was riding Finbar, waited as Simon got the frightened thoroughbred calmed down. As they proceeded with their walk, Simon said, “My father still thinks I’m going to Oxford next term. He even said he was going to make my uncle pay for university out of my trust fund. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to dun my uncle for the money he’s had to spend on keeping me all these years.”
“Nothing that awful man does can surprise me.” They rode for a few minutes in silence, then Claire said, “One hundred thousand pounds! I can hardly believe it, Simon. That’s a fortune!”
He turned to look at her amazed face and grinned. “I know. But we have to remember I don’t get the money until I turn twenty-one.”
Her amazement turned to apprehension. “Are you going to have to go to Oxford after all?”
“No.” For the first time in his life, he had power. He had money. He did not have to do what his father told him to. “I am not going to Oxford.” His adamant voice reflected his resolve. “I am not leaving you again. I’ll speak to my uncle and see what kind of allowance he will give me.” He looked into the eyes he loved so deeply. “We’ll work something out, Claire. We won’t need a lot of money to live on, you and I.” He paused, then spoke words that were torn from the deepest part of his heart. “I swore a vow to myself when I heard the amount of the inheritance.” His eyes held hers in locked intensity. “I swore I would never be lonely again.”
She reached her hand toward him.
A noise came from within the trees to their right as a squirrel jumped from branch to branch. Tim Tam’s head shot up and he danced around, eyes dilated and nose snorting. He began to back into the woods. Finbar decided he’d join in the fun, and the two riders were occupied for a while in rubbing their mounts’ necks, keeping them on the path, and murmuring reassuringly. When Finbar finally decided to stand
quietly, Tim Tam followed suit; with some encouragement, both horses began to walk forward.
Claire picked up their conversation as if nothing had interrupted it. “It isn’t as bad for me because I have my mother and father. But…” Her eyes were focused between Finbar’s ears, and a tiny line dented her forehead. “It’s peculiar Simon, but sometimes I feel as if a part of me is standing aside, watching me as I go about my day. It’s as if the person who’s talking to Charlotte, or helping Mama with the garden, isn’t really me. It’s some other girl who looks like me. The real me is just waiting for you to come home.”
They stopped their horses and crystal blue eyes looked deeply into brown. Claire spoke first, a quiver in her voice. “Do you think they’ll let us get married?”
He said calmly, “If they don’t, we’ll elope.” He reached for her hand. “Will you elope with me?”
Her face cleared like magic. “Of course I will!”
He grinned, lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it hard.
She shivered.
They walked along in silence for a while. Then Claire asked, “Where does one elope to, Simon?”
“Scotland,” he replied. “I looked it up in the library at school. The bans don’t have to be called for a couple to be married in Scotland. We just have to get there.”
“We can do that,” she said confidently.
“We can if we plan carefully.”
A bug buzzed around Tim Tam’s ears and he shook his head in annoyance. Simon said, “Let’s trot and get away from these insects.”
Claire agreed and the two of them moved off, the horses, like the riders, in perfect harmony.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Liam had a promising filly running in the Oaks at Epsom, and Lord Welbourne was so confident of victory that he invited a party of friends to join him at the track. The squire had planned to go to the race with Liam, but he canceled at the last minute. The earl’s gamekeeper, John Evans, had caught three men poaching in the Welbourne woods, and the earl demanded they be brought up in front of the local magistrate (the squire) immediately.