Lucy crouched down so that her face was level with the children’s faces. ‘I’m sorry, children. Rocky had to go away quite suddenly. Er … Mr Staines was taken quite poorly and they have gone away to make him better. It’s only for a while and I’m sure they will return before too long.’
‘But, where’ve they gone? Can’t we go to visit? I’m sure he’d like us to,’ Arabella asked.
Lucy shook her head. ‘I don’t know where they’ve gone. We just have to wait until he comes back, or lets us know where he is. I’m sure someone will tell us eventually.’ She fervently hoped so.
The children looked crestfallen and Arabella slipped her hand into Lucy’s, both giving and receiving comfort.
‘I bet Rocky’s sailing the seven seas, searching for treasure ships!’ Bertie declared optimistically, raising the edge of his hand to his eyebrows as if he were searching distant horizons. ‘I hope he comes back when I’m a bit older, then I can go with him. I’d better practise fighting and catching prisoners and making them walk the plank! Come on, Bella, you can be my first victim!’
With shouts and squeals, the children happily diverted into another make-believe game and Lucy suddenly felt quite ancient in comparison to their innocent acceptance that, eventually, all would be well.
‘I pray that it is,’ Lucy breathed silently. ‘But when? When will Lord Rockhaven return? Will I still be here?’ She couldn’t bear to think that she might not be. If she weren’t, maybe Lord Rockhaven would forget all about her, as he had done after their first brief meeting, and that was too heart-wrenching to even contemplate!
Theo was equally frustrated. His self-imposed regime of fitness-training was arduous.
His first task for Boulton and Dodds was to retrieve the dismantled exercise bars that Staines had constructed for him. Not wanting to risk anyone deducing that he was in residence in the servants quarters at Montcliffe Hall, he planned the operation with military precision, instructing his two faithful cohorts to temporarily conceal each separate piece in different parts of the woodland, making it difficult for anyone who might catch sight of any part of the proceedings to keep a watch and lie in wait for the next move. He made use of the extra time this entailed in making their living quarters more habitable, aided by Tomkins, the elderly retainer left as caretaker of the family home when his mama had removed to Town.
Once the pieces of equipment were reassembled, his twice-daily exercises began in earnest. He gritted his teeth and persevered, even when his muscles and ligaments were screaming for rest and sweat was pouring down his forehead. Boulton and Dodds now knew better than to suggest a break before Theo was ready to give in to his protesting body. He had set himself a goal and was pushing his body hard to reach it. He knew that his next meeting with his cousin Piers would more than likely be the final meeting one that would end with a victor and a loser.
He knew that when he had set himself on this course of just retribution, he hadn’t really cared if his own life was forfeited, but he felt differently now. When his spirit flagged or his progress seemed to be non-existent, it was a certain pretty face that came into his mind and urged him to persist with it.
He wasn’t sure when his feelings towards her had changed from irritation at her presence to sensing a loss when she was absent. In the cold dark hours of night, when aches and pain racked him, he despaired that his war-torn body would ever be anything other than a deterrent to any young lady wanting to pursue a closer relationship with him, but, in the clear light of day, when he experienced minor steps forward in his progress towards physical fitness, he exulted in the memories of Miss Templeton’s gentle concern and total lack of any sign of abhorrence at his bodily weakness and facial disfigurement. Could he dare hope that she might learn to have some—? His thoughts jerked to a standstill – he dare not hope for love, but maybe, if he were allowed to court her, some feelings of tenderness might develop towards him?
But, first, he must become fit enough to face his cousin, if not on quite equal terms, at the very least, on terms that allowed him a chance of victory. Conrad deserved nothing less.
By the time the leaves were falling from the trees in late October, Theo knew he was gaining ground. His muscles were strengthening, his endurance increasing and the intermittent pain in his back almost negligible. He practised swordplay but knew his impaired mobility would forever disadvantage him in that sphere and determined, instead, to use pistols in his avenging of Conrad’s death. This time, he would call the tune, not Piers! He would choose the time, the place and the means, allowing Piers the dignity of a face-to-face confrontation, not a cowardly shot in the back followed by a kick in the face when he was down!
As the time for retribution drew nearer, knowing that his cousin would never attempt to face him on his own, but would shield himself behind a number of paid assassins, Theo instructed Boulton and Dodds to carefully recruit more like-minded men from the village, trusting their judgment about who would remain loyal under fire.
At last he was ready. He had regained his physical strength; he had his plan of action and the men to support him, and the advantage of intimate knowledge of the lie of the land. All he needed to do was choose the date and time and then dangle the bait before his cousin.
A few weeks later, in late November, the Countess of Montcliffe was sitting in front of her dressing-table under the administering hand of her maid, when there was a discreet tap at her door.
Lady Montcliffe’s eyes met with her maid’s and a slight indication of assent sent her maid to open it.
‘A letter for m’lady,’ Dutton, the butler, murmured quietly.
Lady Montcliffe’s heart leaped, though whether in joy or terror, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was, for Dutton to have brought the letter up to her door himself, it must be of some importance – and the whole household knew the sole cause of the state of anxiety their mistress was in! It must contain news of Theo! But was it good news or bad? Her face was pale and her hand trembled as she reached out to take the franked folded paper from the silver tray her maid was now holding towards her.
Although she felt, deep within her heart, that her remaining son was still alive, there were moments when she feared otherwise. Surely, he would have communicated with her before now if he were able to do so? He must know that she was almost driven out of her mind with worry about him. She only had to glance into a mirror to see what effect his long absence had had upon her. Only her maid’s skill with powder and paint had enabled her to face Society’s enquiring gaze with a modicum of self-assurance, and to cope with her odious nephew’s persistent and insincere enquiries as to whether or not his dear cousin had at last been in touch with her. He was even getting credit to fund his opulent lifestyle on the expectations of his imminent inheritance, if the circulating on-dits were to be believed.
Lady Montcliffe’s lifelong training in well-bred deportment made her involuntarily straighten her shoulders and, although she almost feared to take the letter, she did so unaware that she was holding her breath, and forced herself to read its handwritten direction. Her left hand flew to her breast and her heart leaped with joy as she recognized the hand that had scribed it. It was from her dear Theo! At last!
Oh, she had known that if he were still alive, he would eventually get in touch with her, and now he had! He had contacted her at last. Her face glowed with happiness. Oh, where was the dear boy? How was he faring?
She slipped her finger under the seal and eagerly began to read. The first words were, Dear Mama, if anyone is with you when you receive this letter, delay reading it until you are on your own.
The countess immediately dismissed her maid, asking her to inform the servants not to disturb her under any circumstances until she rang for them. She was definitely not at home to visitors.
She eagerly resumed her reading. Theo didn’t go into many details of what he had been doing since he left her shortly after his discharge from the military hospital, except to say that he had been adequately cared for
and was now much stronger and was looking towards reopening Montcliffe Hall for Christmas.
What I want you to do, Mama, is to begin to make arrangements to return at that time … BUT I want you to make sure that my cousin Piers ‘accidentally’ overhears that I will be returning there on my own in the family coach the second Friday in December, expecting to arrive by late afternoon. Dispatch the coach to arrive on that date, laden only with such luggage as it might be supposed I would need to take with me and tell Simkins to be sure he is protected against the hazards of such a journey in winter.
Do not worry, Mama. If all goes to plan, we will be reunited before Christmas.
Your loving son
Theo
In Lady Montcliffe’s heart joy at her son’s recovery and her imminent reunion with him warred with anxiety over his immediate safety.
‘Oh, Theo, what are you planning to do? How can I not worry? Do be careful!’ she whispered aloud.
Eleven
AT THE END of the first week of December an air of excitement began to circulate in the village. A number of them, all former servants of the Montcliffes, had been recruited to give the Hall a thorough cleaning and an army of outdoor labourers began to tidy the grounds under the orders of Thornley, the previous head gardener.
It was Peggy, the upstairs maid who had brought a jug of hot water to Lucy’s room for her morning wash, who excitedly told Lucy that her mam and da were well pleased.
‘Da’s had to get work wherever he could since her ladyship left,’ she confided to Lucy, ‘but now he’s hoping to get taken on full-time again. It’ll make heaps of difference.’
‘Is it known who is returning to the Hall?’ Lucy asked carefully. ‘Is it just her ladyship? Or is Theo … er … Lord Rockhaven coming as well?’
‘I dunno, miss. I ’spect we’ll find out soon enough. Oh, isn’t it loverly, though? It’s said her ladyship will be back before Christmas.’
Lucy agreed. She was sure Marissa would allow her to visit Lady Montcliffe if she were still here when her ladyship was back in residence and, hopefully, she would then discover what Lord Rockhaven’s plans were.
Knowing that gossip was likely to be rife in the village, she offered to take some provisions to the villagers that afternoon whilst the children played under their mama’s watchful eye. She ended her round with Mrs Boulton. That good lady drew her inside her cottage with an air of suppressed excitement.
‘I shouldn’t be saying this, miss, but I knows you are as loyal to the family as we who has known them all our lives, but my Georgie has let me know that he will be home any day now! By the end of next week at the latest. Ain’t that wonderful, miss? He’ll be with us afore Christmas!’
Lucy’s heart leaped with anticipation. ‘Indeed, it is wonderful! Does that mean Lord Rockhaven is coming home also?’
Mrs Boulton touched the side of her nose knowingly. ‘Georgie didn’t say, but I know my Georgie well enough to know he wouldn’t be coming back wi’out him.’
‘Let me know if you get to hear anything definite, won’t you, Mrs Boulton, especially if anything is seen or heard of that man who came here before?’ She was sure Theo’s cousin would not have given up his plan to become the next Earl of Montcliffe, but, if she was able to do anything about it, he wouldn’t succeed.
The following Friday morning, Lucy awoke with a sense of excitement. Marissa was taking Bertie and Arabella to a pre-Christmas party at the home of some neighbouring gentry and Lucy was not included.
‘You know I would love to take you along, Lucy,’ Marissa had apologized on receiving the invitation the previous week, ‘but Mama insisted that you must not be allowed to attend any social functions until she says so and it won’t be long now until she and Papa come to stay for Christmas. I am sure she will relent when she hears how good you have been. You aren’t too disappointed, are you, dear? I know Arabella especially will miss you.’
The imp of mischief that invariably sat on Lucy’s left shoulder made her grin impudently. ‘We needn’t actually mention it to Mama, need we?’ she suggested slyly, thinking of all the other undeclared violations of her mama’s orders that had occurred during her time of ‘exile from home and society’.
‘Lucy! How can you say so?’ Marissa exclaimed, her expression as shocked as her tone.
‘Did you never disobey Mama?’ Lucy asked curiously, then answered her own question. ‘No, I don’t think you did. Did you never even want to do so?’
Marissa seemed genuinely puzzled by the question. ‘Of course not. Mama and Papa always know what is best, besides, you did enough rebelling for the two of us.’ Her expression softened. ‘Oh, Lucy, I used to be in such a quake over you and often cried myself to sleep after you had been punished, but you never seemed to mind your punishments and you always bounced back straight afterwards.’ She reached out a hand and touched Lucy’s arm. ‘But, Lucy, you will heed Mama from now on, won’t you? You’ve managed to be good all the weeks you’ve been here and it wasn’t so very hard, was it?’
Lucy was so touched by her sister’s obvious concern that it was almost on her tongue to confess her misdeeds. Only her sworn promise to say nothing to anyone about Lord Rockhaven’s recent sojourn in the area constrained her. ‘I’ll do my best,’ she promised honestly, ‘but I can never be as compliant as you, dear Marissa. As to whether I am disappointed not to be included in the party invitation, I am a little, but I know what Mama said and I am quite happy not to be included. Don’t upset yourself about it. I know Cook is making up some charity baskets with special Christmas treats in them for the villagers, so I will make good use of the time and distribute some of those.’ And, hopefully, get to hear the latest news that might have reached the faithful villagers regarding Lord Rockhaven, if neither he nor lady Montcliffe has returned by then, she added in her heart.
She had been on tenterhooks throughout the week, but no one in the village seemed to know anything more definite other than one of the Montcliffes was expected to be back in residence before the end of the week.
Now the last day had arrived, she bounded out of bed, swiftly dressed and hurried downstairs to breakfast with her sister. Since their parents were due to arrive the following day, the house was filled with a hum of activity and Marissa was already presiding over the informal breakfast table, determined to personally oversee the maids as they performed their routine cleaning tasks with extra diligence – a decision that wasn’t altogether approved of by Mrs Hardy, her housekeeper.
Lucy greeted her with a sisterly peck on her cheek and helped herself from the array of foods kept under covers on the sideboard … some tea, two poached eggs and a slice of grilled ham. Fresh baked rolls of bread were in a shallow wicker basket on the table with lovely cool curls of butter on a silver platter.
‘The coffee is quite fresh,’ Marissa commented, as Lucy sat down opposite her. She picked up a folded note from a plate which a footman had placed at her side and broke the seal of the hand-delivered note. ‘Oh, that’s a nuisance!’ she declared petulantly. ‘The Misses Treddam have finished the new carriage dress I am giving you as your gift for Christmas, but both have severe colds and cannot bring it here for your final fitting. I did want it to be ready for when Mama and Papa come tomorrow, for your other one is a perfect disgrace and I cannot for shame allow them to see you so shabbily dressed. I really don’t know how you have got it in such a state, Lucy. It looks as though you have romped in the woods in it!’
Marissa wasn’t far wrong, Lucy reflected … but knew it wouldn’t be circumspect to say so. She composed her features into as innocent an expression as she could. ‘We could go there, couldn’t we? I haven’t been into town whilst I’ve been here this time and it would give me the chance to purchase a few Christmas gifts for the children, wouldn’t it?’
‘That’s not possible! It would need to be done today in case it needs some alteration. You surely haven’t forgotten that I am committed to taking the children to visit the Darlingtons this afterno
on and they live in quite the opposite direction! Bother!’
She tapped her fingers impatiently on the table, as she ran through her plans for the day. ‘I suppose you could go by yourself,’ she murmured hesitantly. ‘I can’t let you have the town coach, though, since Taylor is conveying me and the three children and Nurse Harvey in that. You’ll have to use the barouche. With its hood up and warm rugs to cover your knees, it will suffice. And you can have Higgins in attendance, Taylor says he is doing well under his tutelage, and Nora could go as your abigail. She is eager to learn the duties such a position entails – and her parents live in town, so she could pay them a visit whilst you are having your fitting. Yes, I’m sure Mama would find no fault in such an arrangement. It is hardly a social call, after all, is it? … Oh, dear!’
Another complication had occurred to her and an expression of consternation puckered her face. ‘I cannot allow the Misses Tredham to see you in your tattered carriage gown. I know, you must wear my second-best one. I find it tight around my waist at the moment but, apart from that, thankfully, we are much of a size. There! The problem is solved, Lucy.’
Lucy’s initial reaction was of disappointment that she wouldn’t be able to make use of her free afternoon to visit Mrs Boulton in order to learn the up-to-date news of Lord Rockhaven, as, surely, he and Lady Montcliffe must be coming any day now, but she swiftly saw that the expedition to town needn’t disallow a visit to the village on her way home so she eagerly fell in with Marissa’s suggestion.
As soon as lunch was over, Lucy left Bertie and Arabella in the care of an undermaid and she hastened to her room to change into Marissa’s carriage gown. It was a deep russet brown, a colour that suited Marissa more then herself. She posed in front of the cheval-glass, turning from side to side, reflecting that, although it was slightly loose around her waist, the style suited her slender figure. It had a matching bonnet with a feather that curled around the brim and perched quite cheekily on top of her head. With matching gloves and a small reticule dangling from her wrist, she felt pleased to be dressed once more as a member of the haute ton.
Most Rebellious Debutante Page 13