In My Lady's Chamber

by Laura Matthews

  "It's a pleasure to find someone who shares my interest in history,” Mr. Oldbury assured her. “Perhaps, if you had any free time, I could take you for a drive and you could tell me about the Chipstable area. I’ve not had a chance to visit there as yet, though I would like to go.”

  "The village is charming but I can’t say it abounds in historical merit. I don’t have any specific afternoon to call my own, but Lady Eastwick is forever urging me to take more time for myself. I think she worries that if I don’t get away more, I’ll tire of all of them and leave!” Theodosia chuckled and gazed fondly at Charlotte and Thomas. “But they’ve become my family and my duties are not so arduous that I need any respite from them.”

  “Still, you should cater to Lady Eastwick’s whim.” His serious expression lapsed into an infectious grin. “Let me come for you a week from today at one. My gig is hardly the height of fashion but it’s serviceable, and by then hopefully any threat of rain will have disappeared.”

  “Very well, Mr. Oldbury. I'd enjoy that—and it would ease Lady Eastwick’s conscience.”

  Steyne refused to turn and look at them. He knew perfectly well that Theodosia would be smiling at the young jackanapes, her calm friendly smile. Or would it perhaps be more? Were their eyes meeting in a dawning understanding, a shared secret moment of kinship? Were they silently acknowledging that this was the beginning of a courtship? Steyne could not, would not, believe it possible that Theodosia would ever look at Mr. Oldbury the way she had looked at him, Steyne, when they had fallen in love. It wasn’t possible! On the other hand, he thought, disgruntled, that she hadn’t looked at himself that way recently, either.

  After what seemed (to Steyne) a lot of unnecessary further talk among the group, the Charton Court party prepared to leave. Steyne found it difficult to project the proper appreciation for the visit to the young clergyman but he made a valiant effort, born of innumerable years of social expertise. His attempt was of limited success, however, as Mr. Oldbury’s attention was quite obviously directed at Miss Tremere.

  In the carriage Charlotte beamed with the progress of the call, having listened as carefully as Steyne to the arrangements made between her two protagonists. Nonetheless, she was not so involved in her daydreams as to ignore the approach of Wildcroft Grange. Her wistful gaze went past the intervening fields and lawns to the ancient structure of mellowed stone which was barely visible for the avenue of elms which led to it.

  Theodosia followed the direction of her eyes and suggested, “Let’s pay a call on the Winstanleys. We haven’t visited since we learned that the Heythrops stayed at Wildcroft Grange while Charton Court was built.”

  Though Charlotte and Thomas were perfectly willing, Steyne stared at her in disbelief. They were seated together opposite the children and he whispered, "What in heaven’s name are you doing? Don’t you want to see if James is out there digging?”

  "Yes, but that can wait. This is more important.” When he continued incredulous, she fixed him with a particularly unnerving stare and said, “Trust me . . . please.”

  Somehow he could not help feeling that he was being tested. Momentarily he was irritated, and then a slow, rueful smile lit his darkly handsome face. “I do trust you, Doe.” And he leaned back against the squabs as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

  Theodosia’s eyes danced as she murmured, "Thank you!”

  Their visit to the Winstanleys was no longer than an ordinary country visit was supposed to be but Steyne immediately realized the purpose of it. Impossible not to, he thought with amusement, when Charlotte and Carlton Winstanley could barely take their eyes from one another, and tended to start when someone else spoke to them. Steyne found that he had developed a proprietary interest in Theodosia’s charges which led him to take a few minutes sounding out the young man as he might have one of his sister’s suitors. This took a form too subtle to be noticed by anyone but Theodosia who raised a quizzical brow at him across the room. When Carlton saw them to the carriage, Theodosia expressed the hope that he would visit them soon at Charton Court. Thomas, suddenly fired with a desire to join the Royal Navy, added his enthusiastic support to her invitation, and besieged poor Charlotte (who knew very little about the navy) with questions for the remainder of their drive home.

  "A nice family,” Steyne commented laconically, his eyes intent on the passing landscape, his voice low. "Is there approval among the Heythrops?”

  “Things haven’t progressed that far. Edward has been a bit stuffy, but Lady Eastwick seems delighted.”

  “I understand Edward was planning a visit to Basing Close this afternoon.”

  Theodosia regarded his turned head with astonishment. “How odd! I’m sure I had nothing to do with that. I’ve made no progress there whatsoever.”

  “Perhaps he wishes to discuss farming with Sir George.” Steyne shifted on the seat so that he sat facing her. “But he did have on one of those high-collared coats that young men seem to think the very height of elegance. I doubt he would go to such an effort for Sir George, especially since he won’t be able to turn his head more than an inch if they go to inspect the pig sty.”

  “I suppose it was the attention you paid to Christina yesterday," Theodosia mused. "He must have realized her merit when he saw a Corinthian so obviously taken with her.”

  There was no censure in the statement, which only made Steyne feel it the more. His brows drew down in an uneasy scowl, but he could think of no way to excuse himself, short of admitting that he had been trying to make her jealous, a ploy that had obviously failed. Eventually he said, "Edward did not appear to notice at the time.”

  “Well, it doesn’t really matter how he became interested in her,” Theodosia admitted briskly. “I’m just delighted to see that he is, even if nothing comes of it. He needs to be distracted from his worrisome care of his family.”

  As the carriage swept up in front of the Court, Steyne murmured, “Shall I take Thomas and check the boundary where the graves are? Or would you like to come?”

  “I’d like to, but I think I’d best not.” She glanced across at the children, still deeply engrossed in talk of Carlton and the navy. “Will you let me know what you discover as soon as you return?”

  “Of course. We’ll be circumspect; I’ll explain to Thomas. If we find James, we won’t confront him.”

  Theodosia nodded and followed Charlotte into the house. Thomas was surprised, but flattered, to have Steyne delay him, and entered with great excitement into the adventure. Apparently the possibility that his uncle was a scoundrel didn’t bother him in the least. More likely he already knew.

  * * * *

  Charlotte was blushingly telling her mother of the visit to Wildercroft Grange when Edward swaggered into the Summer Parlor. There was no other fitting description for the manner in which he entered: a lordly strut. It was something new in Edward’s experience to find himself viewed with unalleviated approbation, and Christina Winchmore had done just that. In his own family Edward was lovingly tolerated with his pompous airs and stuffy pronouncements, but Christina Winchmore, almost overwhelmed by the occasion of a visit from him alone (not that her mother wasn’t there, but the rest of his family wasn’t), had hung on his every word. Heady stuff for one of Edward’s temperament, and the euphoria of it had not worn off by the time he joined his family in the Summer Parlor.

  "Lady Winchmore and her daughter sent their greetings,” he informed the astonished company. “Sir George was out on the estate somewhere and I didn’t see him.”

  "You went to call at Basing Close?” Lady Eastwick asked, her eyes enormous.

  “Certainly. I felt I had been a little distracted yesterday when they called and did not wish them to take my preoccupation amiss. Miss Winchmore assured me that she had found me all that was pleasing, however, so I needn’t have worried.”

  Charlotte and Eleanor exchanged a skeptical, even downright incredulous, glance, but Edward didn’t intercept it. Lady Eastwick offered a faint smile, saying,
“How kind of her."

  “She’s a most admirable young lady,” Edward intoned, toying with the bottom button on his blue superfine coat. It had occurred to him that Miss Tremere might be alarmed by his defection and he observed her with a shade of apprehension. He had not, after all, ever given her any hint of his passion for her, which now seemed childish and had always seemed reprehensible.

  His unblinking gaze prompted Theodosia to enter the conversation. “Yes, indeed. Lady Winchmore confided to us that she could not have been more pleased with her daughter’s reception in London. Miss Winchmore needed nothing but a season to complete her education, and she seems to have enjoyed herself thoroughly. A little exposure to society is a great deal more enlightening than a set of schoolroom rules.”

  Hard as Edward tried to keep the conversation on Christina, it inevitably drifted to other subjects, notably Carlton Winstanley. He frowned when he learned that his sister and brother had called there with Miss Tremere and Lord Steyne, and he looked to his mother for support.

  "I think Charlotte is seeing far too much of Winstanley, Mother. You should put some limits on her.” And have Miss Tremere enforce them, was his unspoken addition.

  Lady Eastwick fixed him with a doleful eye. "Perhaps you would consider it appropriate for Charlotte to see Carlton with the same frequency you see Christina, Edward.”

  “I very rarely see Miss Winchmore.” He refused to meet her eyes.

  “Yesterday, today. Do I take it you don’t intend to see her for some time now?”

  Since Edward had already arranged to take Christina riding the next day, he mumbled a negative and excused himself. He had not reached the library when Charlotte and Eleanor, too, left the Summer Parlor and he distinctly heard Eleanor say, “He was difficult enough to live with before this; now he is going to be insufferable.”

  And Charlotte’s soft reply: “Christina will lose all interest in him once she gets to know what he’s really like, Eleanor. She’s remembering him as he was when we were younger—full of fun and adventure with none of these exalted airs. When she sees what a prosy bore he’s become, you may be sure her eyes will be opened and she won’t have a thing to do with him. Why, she told me about the nicest man she met in London . . ."

  But they had reached the first-floor landing and Edward, once again finding himself eavesdropping, could not catch the rest of her words. Dispirited, he stomped into the library, flung himself in one of the leather chairs and contemplated the probability to Charlotte’s being right. Edward knew he had become a bore. He knew because he had not always been one, and along with his family he could see that he had overreacted to the responsibilities thrust on him by his father’s absence.

  Probably, if he had not been at home, the estate manager and his mother together, with the assistance of Miss Tremere, could have done a better job of running things, but he had wanted so badly to prove himself. He had planned to be the bulwark of the family, not the petty authoritarian figure he had become. When Katey had died he had thought, “It wouldn’t have happened if my father had been here,” which was the same thing as saying it was his fault, that he had failed in his duties.

  Somehow Miss Tremere had guessed the burden he placed on himself and she had patiently attempted to work him out of the ridiculous belief, but he had stubbornly clung to it, as though he needed it as a proof of his ineptness. Edward had always compared himself with his father, and found himself wanting. His efforts to duplicate his father’s elegance were absurd; to duplicate his efficiency a catastrophe. Miss Tremere had said, “You don’t have to be like your father to be a good man.”

  He hadn’t believed her. His father was the finest man he knew and he wanted to be exactly like him. Edward was twenty years old and he sat in the library staring at the inkwell, wishing he were John’s age so he could put his head down and cry.

  A light tap at the door brought his head up and he called gruffly, “Come in."

  Lady Eastwick paused on the threshold to take in his despondent posture, a far cry from that of less than an hour ago when he had been so sure of himself, basking in Christina’s admiration. She had come to remonstrate with him on his unreasonable attitude toward Charlotte and Carlton Winstanley, but seeing him so unhappy she began to think better of it. Poor Edward, he was trying so hard.

  As soon as he had seen who it was, he rose to his feet, drawing a weary hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Mother. I don’t know why I have to act like such a beast with Charlotte. It’s just . . . Well, I don’t want Father to come home and find that everything is settled when he may not approve.”

  “Why wouldn’t he approve, Edward?” Lady Eastwick allowed him to pull up a chair for her.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably he would, but he may have wanted something grander for her. Carlton Winstanley is acceptable, I know, but hardly a brilliant match. Besides, he’s away at sea a great deal of the time.”

  “Your father and I are interested in seeing that our children marry happily, Edward. And though that often means avoiding a real mésalliance, it does not mean that they must marry into the aristocracy. You know, dear, you might depend on me to have some idea of what is proper for Charlotte.”

  Her words of reproof only made him sink deeper into his chair. “I do know, Mother. I don’t really mean to set myself up as arbiter of all the children’s destinies. It’s just that I feel I should be doing something. Father would be doing something. I don’t want him to come home and think I’ve made no effort to give the proper guidance.”

  Lady Eastwick sighed. “Edward, my love, what you must remember is that you aren’t Eastwick’s age, and haven’t his experience. Any guidance you can give your brothers and sisters must stem from your empathy with them, not some high-flown idea of how your father would view the situation. Every parent knows that putting obstacles in a young man or woman’s way is only the more likely to spur the least desirable behavior. Not that I least desire that Charlotte see as much as she wants of Carlton, but you will only have her dreaming instead of participating in a romance with him. Give her the opportunity to get to know him, and him to know her. They are a long way from a final decision, Edward, and they have such a short time before he leaves for his ship again.”

  “I’ve made a mess of everything, haven’t I, Mother?”

  “No, love, you haven’t.” She patted one of the tightly clenched hands. “You’ve made everything a great deal easier for me—except with the children. You can’t be a father to them, Edward, but you can be a brother. That’s what they want. Don’t try to be something you aren’t. We were all quite happy with you the way you were.”

  Edward met her sympathetic eyes with an apologetic grimace. “I’ve been a bit confused . . . what with one thing and another. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”

  His mother rose and smiled at him. “Never forget that I’m proud of you, Edward, and that your father is, too. You don’t need to live up to someone else’s standards. If you live up to your own, you will do perfectly well.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Steyne found Theodosia in the Summer Parlor, where she had been deserted by the rest of the family but was working at a piece of embroidery for the dressing table in her room. Her brows rose questioningly as he entered through the doors from the terrace.

  “We saw him digging,” he informed her as he took the chair opposite hers. A slow smile spread across his face. “He’s obviously been working very hard. There was a trench a good ten feet in both directions. A pity he couldn’t have put his efforts to some more honorable endeavor.”

  “So you think there’s no chance the treasure is buried at the boundary?’

  “None at all. If he weren’t so grasping, I think he would have come to that conclusion himself before now. And there’s no chance that he’s found it, since he’s still digging.”

  Theodosia set her embroidery aside. “What was Thomas’ reaction?”

  “He wasn’t particularly surprised, just disgusted.”
Steyne studied the long hands which rested on his thighs. “I tried to help him understand how a Heythrop could behave in such a manner.”

  “Thank you. You’ve been very kind to the children. Amy adores you.”

  “She’s a sweetheart. In fact, they’re all delightful—even Edward, when he comes down from his high-ropes. We had quite an interesting discussion about the American situation the other day.”

  Though she acknowledged this statement with a nod, Theodosia had obviously already switched her thoughts to another direction. “Do you think we should tell Edward and Lady Eastwick my theory about Arthur?”

  “That’s for you to decide.” He grinned at her. “They, at least, are not likely to think you deranged.”

  “They might.” But she returned his grin. “Tell me, where do you think the treasure is hidden?”

  His reply was prompt. “In the house. The poem refers to its location at Seagrave Manor, and when Charton Court was built I would be willing to bet they made provision for it here. I think the plaque must be a clue. Would you take me to see it?”

  “Certainly, but the house has been so thoroughly investigated by generations of Heythrops . . ."