Mr. Twining was standing behind his desk observing her closely, his expression difficult for Clarissa to interpret. She thought she detected regret there and something else too. Apprehension perhaps? But any power he might have once possessed had long since been wrested from him. He was no longer the main player in this drama; it was Salik, brutal and determined, who was the driving force.
She turned her attention to her step-son. He was standing at her side, leering. What should have been a reasonably handsome face was twisted and made ugly by bitterness and resentment. Clarissa suspected that, even in these dire circumstances, he was attempting to play the part of the gentleman he so desperately wanted to become. She almost laughed aloud at the thought. Even if he did, somehow, manage to swindle her out of her fortune, mere money would never smooth Salik’s acceptance into good society. Her time in the ton and the endless mornings spent in the company of the grand dames had taught her at least that much. This realisation bolstered her spirit and gave her fresh hope.
This train of thought reminded Clarissa that she, at least, was a lady. All right, then, she would use that circumstance to her advantage. She was used to men trying to bully and cheat her over business matters in Northumberland. They seemed unable to comprehend that a mere woman could make a success of farming. They came to the erroneous conclusion that she must have more money than sense and therefore be ripe for the picking. To a man, they eventually discovered just how misguided that opinion was.
Clarissa thought longingly of Luc. Even before Bentley had told her he wasn’t at home she already knew it. She didn’t need to see him in order to detect his presence. Despite the large number of people living under his roof, the house somehow felt empty without his compelling presence. She wondered, somewhat desperately, where he’d gone and when he could reasonably be expected to return.
The faintest glimmer of hope surfaced as she recalled Simms calling after her when she made her flight from the house. Simms always knew where his master was, and Clarissa suspected that Luc had charged him with keeping an eye on her. The thought had previously annoyed her. Now it served to bolster her courage.
If Luc remained calm and took the time to reason the matter through, he must surely realize where she was. Who else in London, other than Twining and Salik, would be desperate enough to kidnap her? The more she considered the matter, the more obvious it appeared, and she could only wonder at her own density in not seeing it earlier. Yes, she must hold on to the hope that Luc would puzzle it out and come to her rescue. All he needed was time. Somehow she must find a way to gain it for him. Dissimulation, prevarication, and circumvention. In other words, delaying tactics were most definitely called for.
“Well, my lady,” Salik said. “At last we find ourselves able to discuss the business that lies unsettled between us, but this time without unwarranted intervention from uninvolved strangers.”
“Indeed, yes, Mr. Salik.”
Sitting ramrod straight she bestowed a friendly smile upon the odious man. This surprised Salik, who’d doubtless expected a continuation of her earlier contempt. She could tell that he was wondering how he was supposed to react to such unexpected civility. Clarissa congratulated herself on this minor victory. It would be difficult for him to react violently when faced with the genteel manners he so obviously admired. Her suspicions were confirmed when Salik continued to look at her in silent confusion.
“Before we do so, perhaps we could take some tea,” she suggested, grabbing at the advantage she’d created. “The church service this morning was especially tedious, and the interior of the church impossibly arid. I find that my throat is quite parched.”
Clarissa made the suggestion of tea as though it was the most reasonable request in the world, leaving Salik little room to demur. She offered him a sunny smile, and after what seemed like an eternity, he returned it with an ingratiating grin of his own.
“But of course.” He made her a slight bow. “Granger, see to it at once.”
“But what about the child?” Rosie, who’d fallen silent, obligingly started screaming again. “Why not let her sit with me until tea has been cleared away?” Clarissa asked. “I’m sure I shall be able to quiet her.” Clarissa held Salik’s gaze. Since reaching the conclusion that he was the person whom she should humour, she’d spoken to no one else other than Rosie.
“By all means.”
Rosie, at a signal from Clarissa, scampered across the room. Clarissa lifted her onto her lap and cuddled her, holding her trembling body tightly against her own. So far, so good. Salik had done everything she’d asked of him. Now it would take time for Granger to make the tea, and she would ensure, when it was finally served, that she and Rosie took an eternity to drink it. That could buy them as much as half an hour, which could prove decisive for Luc. If Salik had the temerity to try to rush them, then Clarissa would just have to try and charm him into submission. She suspected that he was susceptible to flattery, and given the precariousness of their situation, she wasn’t above playing upon that fact.
Racking her brains, Clarissa kept up a constant stream of conversation as they awaited the arrival of the tea. The problem was, there were so many subjects it would be infinitely better not to mention. Northumberland was out of the question, as was her animal husbandry. Anything to do with Luc was likely to inflame Salik’s volatile temper and asking him about his life in Egypt would only bring to mind the subject of his father.
Eventually Clarissa took a leaf out of her godmother’s book, and chatted animatedly, passing on snippets of society gossip, giving the impression that she thought Salik would know the people involved. Amazingly, he appeared pleased that she would consider conversing thus with him, and took a great interest in the news she imparted, often interrupting her to clarify names and relationships. He appeared particularly pleased when she mentioned the names of some of the most prominent people in town. For the first time ever, Clarissa was grateful to Marcia for her ability to chatter about nothing, at the same time making it sound both salacious and entertaining. She was sure that this trait had never been put to better use before. She dug deep within her memory and extracted every last vestige of juicy gossip she’d bothered to take in, not hesitating to improvise and embellish remorselessly.
She told him of their visit to the opera the previous week and the activity in a box opposite their own. Suzanna had explained to her that it was occupied by Harriette Wilson, a famous courtesan and former leader of the demi-monde.
“She was with Henry Brougham, the lawyer and inventor of the carriage which bears his name, you understand.” At a nod from Salik, Clarissa continued. “Mrs. Wilson, it would appear, had been under the protection of Lord Worcester at one time. Lord Worcester, as you will know, Mr. Salik, is the Duke of Beaufort’s heir. Anyway, it seems Worcester’s association with Harriette ended badly when he didn’t pay her the annuity he had promised her. She gained her revenge by publishing his letters, which naturally caused all manner of scandal. Brougham, of course, unsuccessfully defended Mrs. Clarke, The Duke of York’s former mistress, against libel.”
“This is a most fascinating account, Lady Hartley,” Salik said, with oily sincerity and a twisted smile, when Clarissa’s words slowed. “Do tell me more.”
“Indeed, I was just getting to the best part. Beware of courtesans with wit and a scorching pen is the moral of the story, Mr. Salik. It seems that Mrs. Wilson was constantly short of funds, not knowing the meaning of economy, if you understand me. She wrote of her dealings with other gentlemen, but offered them the opportunity to purchase their way out of her publications. Many did so, but it seems that one of her long time lovers, and I really ought to exercise a little discretion here by not mentioning any names, told her to publish and be damned!” Clarissa forced herself to laugh. “Just goes to show that you cannot intimidate everyone.
“Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, about the opera. Well, the most entertaining part about it all, Mr. Salik, was that the Beauforts were in the box directly op
posite, and had to spend the entire evening facing Mrs. Wilson. It was too delicious!” Clarissa gave a convincing parody of the laughter she’d heard that evening as people admired Mrs. Wilson’s nerve, laughed at Worcester’s discomfort, and generally enjoyed the situation enormously. Clarissa thought she was possibly the only person present who enjoyed the drama being performed on stage more than the one being enacted in the boxes. “Poor Lord Worcester looked as though he was about to have apoplexy. Mind you, I felt sorry for his little wife. After all, it was hardly her fault. And as for the duke, well…his face was scarlet, but to give him his due, he sat it out. He’s clearly a gentleman not given to intimidation, and stubbornly refused to leave until the end of the performance. It was really too amusing.”
Salik sat beside her, encouraging her to say more. When she finally ran out of gossip she changed the subject to himself, a topic she’d always found men more than happy to expand upon. This one was clearly no exception. He appeared content to respond to her polite enquiries in a tone as amiable as her own. She observed him obliquely as he relaxed in her company, arrogantly considering, she imagined, that his charm had brought about the change in her.
She discovered that he liked what he’d seen of England, excepting the climate, which he found damp and depressing. Salik was of the opinion that he was suited to a life in England, and didn’t doubt he would learn the way of society easily enough. Clarissa’s heart sank as she learned of his intention to remain. It could only mean that he’d renewed his determination to procure his father’s lands by whatever means necessary.
A crashing of tea cups alerted Clarissa to the fact that the refreshments were being brought into the office.
“Ah, good! I can’t tell you how welcome this will be, Mr. Salik. How kind of you to suggest it. I’ve had nothing since breakfast.”
“Then please, pour for us.”
His suggestively intimate smile made Clarissa’s insides crawl, even as the refined tone of voice he’d adopted strengthened her resolve. He was obviously attempting to ingratiate himself with her, and the strain of leading him along was starting to tell upon her nerves. Her head was thumping with a tense headache, and her brain felt less and less equal to the task of coming up with further ways to procrastinate. If Luc was coming he’d better make it soon.
Clarissa handed round cups and smiled at the little girl curled on her lap.
“Come along, Rosie darling, will you not drink a little tea?”
“I want to go home!” Tears were suspiciously close. Clarissa could hardly blame the poor little scrap. She felt like crying with frustration too.
“Soon, darling, I promise you. Now, just drink a little for me, like a good girl. Do you think Annie would like some tea too?” she asked, realizing for the first time that the child was clutching her beloved doll.
Salik stood up, impatient now that he no longer held her attention. “Come, come, Lady Hartley!” His gentlemanly façade had been replaced with a fiercely determined expression. “Don’t imagine I can’t see what you are about. This amusing little charade on your part will do you no good. No one knows where you are, and no one will come to your rescue, so you’d do well to put the idea out of your head and focus your attention on me instead.”
“I’m at a loss to understand you, sir.” Clarissa hid her concern with difficulty and sipped daintily at her tea, alarmed by his violent mood swing.
“You’d be well advised not to mistake me for a fool.”
“Salik!” Twining spoke for the first time. “Remember your manners, man.”
Salik turned to look at Twining, a mixture of anger and contempt flashing from his eyes. “You English astound me,” he said. “You stab one another in the back without a second thought, casually dally with one another’s wives and take any number of other liberties, but if one dares to be impertinent, or, God forbid, if one should forget to offer tea, it’s as though the world will come to an end.”
“There’s always room for good manners, Mr. Salik.” Clarissa spoke with wilful condensation.
“Enough of this, I say!” He swung round and pointed a finger at Granger. “Clear this mess away and we’ll get down to business.”
Clarissa sat in silence. Her ploy had indeed gained her half an hour, but she was unsure now if it would do her any good. It was obvious that Salik wouldn’t stand for any further delays. Worse, Clarissa no longer felt quite so confident about Luc’s imminent arrival. Supposing he was out for the entire day and Simms didn’t know where he was? She dismissed the possibility before the notion took hold, refusing to entertain such defeatist thoughts. If she and Rosie were to survive a situation that was being controlled by a dangerously unbalanced individual then she needed to remain optimistic. Wallowing in self-pity would achieve nothing.
Granger returned to the room.
“Take the child back across the room,” Salik said to him.
The clerk attempted to grab Rosie by the wrist, but she howled, spitting at him like a wild cat, and clung despondently to Clarissa.
“Allow me.” Without waiting for a response, Clarissa carried Rosie across the room and deposited her gently in her original chair. Ignoring Granger, she knelt down and whispered words of encouragement to her, assuring her that they would soon be going home and that she must be a brave little girl until they did. It appeared to work. Rosie hugged Annie close to her thin chest and sat in silence, once again rocking vacantly back and forth.
“Now, Mr. Salik,” she said, calmly resuming her seat. “What did you wish to discuss with me that necessitated such dramatic measures to get me here on a Sunday morning?”
“Don’t play the innocent with me, Clarissa.” He leered at her. “You know very well what this is about.”
“Indeed, sir, you’re quite mistaken.”
“All right then, my dear, we will play it your way. I know all about your friends’ trip to Portsmouth and what they discovered there. Unfortunate that, but no matter.” How on earth had he found out? She had no time to consider the question because Salik’s tone turned into a petulant whine, reminding Clarissa of a child deprived of a favourite toy, determined to throw a tantrum. “If Deverill hadn’t interfered everything would have been settled by now.” He fisted his hand and crashed it against the wall. “Those are my lands, and I intend to have them.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Salik, they are nothing to do with you, and no magistrate in this land is likely to uphold a fraudulent will.”
The calm confidence in Clarissa’s tone appeared to anger him even more. “Of course they’re mine! My father loved me. I am his only son, and I’m entitled to them.”
“You are entitled to nothing, Mr. Salik. I didn’t even know of your existence before Mr. Twining drew my attention to it the other day. If your father really had intended you to inherit, do you not think he might have taken the trouble to mention the fact to me?”
“Perhaps he did?”
“Are you questioning my integrity, sir?”
“Are you questioning mine?”
“Most assuredly.” The time for appeasement was past.
A deathly silence fell upon the room. Salik’s face darkened with rage, and his breathing became laboured and ragged. His temper was reflected in his thunderous expression as he stood over her, clenching his fists threateningly.
“Oh dear, Mr. Salik, if you’re aspiring to become a gentleman you really must learn to control your temper in front of a lady.”
Clarissa looked up at him, as serene as her quietly spoken words. It was dangerous to deliberately bait him, but she didn’t care for bullies and wasn’t about to give in to this one without making a fight of it. But once again his reaction surprised her.
“My apologies, Clarissa, I forgot myself, just for a moment.” He made her a slight bow. “But no matter, this is what I propose. You continue to work the land as before on my behalf, and I will not interfere.”
“And that’s it?” Clarissa raised an incredulous brow. “We can prove that you are a f
raud, a cheat, and a liar but you still consider that I’ll countenance some sort of partnership with you?”
“You appear to be forgetting one small factor.” He nodded in Rosie’s direction. She was still rocking back and forth, crying quietly and staring vacantly into space.
“Mr. Salik, really! I credited you with more intelligence. You can hardly keep the child captive forever, and as soon as you release her I will tell the world what you’ve done.”
“Of course I can keep the child. Who’s to miss her? She has no family and the institution in which she lives won’t have the time or resources to keep searching for her. She’ll soon be forgotten. Anyway, I might yet keep her for myself,” he said in a mildly considering tone. “Either that or sell her on.”
“You fiend!”
“The decision lies entirely in your hands, Lady Hartley.”
It was Salik, now, whose voice was calm with reason, causing Clarissa to look upon him with contempt. She added perversion to his list of faults, since she didn’t have the slightest doubt that, if necessary, he’d carry out his threat.
“You seem to have overlooked the fact that I have powerful connections, Mr. Salik,” she said at last, pulling herself up to her full height. “Connections who know of your intended fraud and can prove it in an instant.”
“It’s only fraud if I attempt to steal the land from you. If, however, you sign the document that I have prepared, surrendering the lands to me voluntarily, then there will be no crime to answer for.”
“Except blackmail, intimidation, and kidnapping.”
Her sarcasm produced a charming smile from Salik. “Except for those trifling matters,” he agreed.
“Even if I did sign the document I could prove later than it was done under duress. I think the courts would be more than sympathetic to my plight.”
“Not if you read the wording of my document. You see, you have discovered how much my father loved me and knew he intended for me to have the lands but he was too unwell to draw up the necessary document before he died. Twining here was privy to his wishes, is that not so?”
Lady Hartley's Inheritance Page 20