The Nomad Harp

by Elizabeth Rotter Matthews

  “Well, it is very kind of you, I suppose,” Phoebe pronounced doubtfully, “but I do not think my father would like being a party to such a deception."

  “Shall I tell him the whole, Phoebe? You see, I cannot think Pontley's aunt would be comfortable with me as myself, and yet I cannot believe that she is not in the most desperate need for consolation at such a time. Pontley has been most callous about the whole thing, and I really cannot think I will marry him in the end. If you think I should tell your papa, I will do so, and abandon the scheme."

  Phoebe's brow wrinkled with concentration. “Well, he did no more than write a recommendation for your cousin, after all, and so long as he does not know what you plan, there can be no blame for him. I know he would approve of your kindness in the matter, Glenna, so perhaps we shall not bother him with the details.” She smiled mischievously. “I have heard nothing to indicate that the dowager's temperament is conciliating, so you are apt to be only too well rewarded for your efforts."

  “Even a disagreeable woman deserves comfort and assistance at such a time,” Glenna retorted self-righteously.

  * * * *

  And Glenna recognized immediately when she met the dowager that she was indeed a most disagreeable woman. Her attitude toward her new companion was condescending, and, meaning to start as she meant to go on, she immediately set Glenna about numerous tasks of an irritating and demeaning nature. She bullied and chided the young woman, and was immensely pleased when her new Mary accepted all this complacently.

  Relegated to an attic room with a tiny, dirty window, Glenna promptly set about cleaning it, though she was twice interrupted in the small task by a summons from the dowager. When she finally had an opportunity to survey the view, she was delighted by the gently rolling hills with their coppices, the fields and the Home Farm. Used as she was to her daily sight of the channel in Hastings, the lake was a welcome vision, and she determined to explore the estate if she were ever given a moment's peace.

  The dowager set her to listing the items of personal property which were to be conveyed to the dower house, and as the list grew daily, Glenna began to wonder if the old woman intended to leave Pontley any furniture at all. Occasionally Lady Pontley would make an aside which Glenna interpreted to mean that a specific item was not indeed her own but belonged with the estate, but since her nephew was unfamiliar with the place he would never know the difference. These semi-confidences embarrassed her and she strove to turn a deaf ear to them. Pontley would have to look after his own interests.

  As the weeks passed and Glenna could see no sign in the dowager of any grief for her sons, she began to consider the possibility of leaving on some pretext. She did not mind the work she did, although the dowager, encouraged by her willingness, increased the load daily, but her purpose in coming seemed to have dissipated. Here was no heartbroken mother mourning her sons; rather the old woman bitterly denounced them as ungrateful and disobedient wretches. Lady Pontley reserved a special store of invective for her nephew, whom she apostrophized as a fool and an interloper. Glenna had very nearly decided to tell the old woman that her father had fallen ill and she must return home, when the dowager herself succumbed to a putrid sore throat which forced her to bed. From this position she continued to order Glenna about unceasingly, but a large share of the young lady's duties now became concerned with the estate. Glenna, fascinated to be able to learn something of the workings of the country, determined to continue on until her employer was again restored to health.

  The day came when a letter from Pontley arrived for his aunt and Glenna found herself, on delivering it, instructed to break the seal and read it to her. She pleaded her lack of desire to do so on the basis that it might contain personal information.

  “That is highly unlikely, Miss Stokes, as the chucklehead has little to say to me beyond upholding his honor in a misguided engagement."

  Appalled by her position, Glenna thrust the letter into Lady Pontley's hands and turned to leave. “Stay and read me the letter!” the dowager rasped. “How dare you rush off that way? Sit down this minute."

  Glenna mutely received the letter back and perched herself on the edge of an uncomfortable chair. She was too shaken to attempt to organize her thoughts as quickly as was her wont, so she obediently unfolded the sheet and began to read, “My dear aunt, I hope this note finds you well and in reasonable spirits. Since last I wrote I have been at Huntley attempting to sort out the management of the estate here. I have replaced the agent with a young man who seems capable as well as knowledgeable, as your son's agent struck me as neither. The methods used here have been in practice for hundreds of years, which may recommend them on antiquity but hardly on efficiency. Mr. Brown (the new agent) assures me that the acreage is good and can turn a profit if handled properly. He has been doing his best to interest me in turnips and wheat, but the learning process is slow. The freshly turned earth smells delightful and the budding plants are promises of a fruitful harvest just as important to the nation at such a time as our ships, I imagine, so I console myself."

  Her reading was interrupted here by the old woman's snort of vexation. “He can never turn himself from a sailor into a farmer and would do better not to try. What a fool he sounds blathering of such things!"

  Glenna's impression had been otherwise; she had been touched by Pontley's simple response to the land and his efforts to accommodate himself to a wholly unfamiliar way of life. The conclusion of the letter was to reverse their positions. “I have paid my respects to Lord and Lady Morris and Miss Jennifer Stafford at Cromer Lodge as you requested. Miss Stafford is indeed a most striking young lady, possessed of an elfin charm and winsomeness quite foreign to my experience— one moment dashing about the estate at breakneck speed on her white mare and the next seated next to one full of confidences, wit and an odd assortment of miscellaneous knowledge. I will grant you, my dear aunt, that she possesses those virtues of which you spoke, and she does not seem indifferent to me, but I am determined on that course to which I am in honor bound. I shall go to Manner Hall in Somerset soon, though I intend to stay here another week for the felicitous company. Your very obedient servant and nephew, Pontley."

  Lady Pontley absolutely gloated over this conclusion, sure that Pontley would manage to extract himself from his engagement now. In spite of her obvious desire to share her triumph with her companion, Glenna excused herself as firmly as she had ever done with the old woman. In her room she meditated on the harvest she was reaping from her crop of deception, and upbraided herself for such a prank. Not only had Pontley proved correct in leaving his aunt to her own devices, but he was certainly in a position where he would prefer to have the engagement broken, and only maintained it out of a sense of obligation. Glenna sat down immediately and penned a letter to him assuring him that she was determined to terminate their engagement. She thanked him again for the honor he had done her and hoped that he would enjoy a prosperous and comfortable life at Lockwood.

  There was nothing she wished more to do then than pack her portmanteaux and flee from the place, but on answering a summons from the dowager she found the old woman had suffered a relapse, quite probably brought on by her excess of joy, Glenna thought exasperatedly. She settled into her duties once again and nursed the old woman through her slow recovery.

  Chapter 4

  Pontley received his fiancée's letter the day before he intended leaving for Manner Hall. Since she had promised to wait until he came to her for her decision, he was surprised to receive so firm a rejection. It occurred to him that she might have met with an acceptable man to replace him, which, he thought ruefully, would not be so difficult to do given her requirements, and his current inability to fall in line with them. However likely that might be, the very decidedness of her letter produced a suspicion in him that there was something amiss. The more he considered the matter the more he determined that his aunt might have had a hand in this precipitate decision on Miss Forbes's part. He would not put it past the old harrid
an to write his fiancée in such terms as would make her write such a letter to him.

  Instead of leaving for Manner Hall, he headed for Hastings, as Glenna had given him reason to believe that she would be there. Mr. Forbes welcomed him kindly, though he was uncertain as to how to treat the young man, for he, too, had received a letter from Glenna advising him that she had broken off the engagement. Since Mr. Forbes had developed a respect for the young man whom he had expected to be his future son-in-law, the news had come as an unwelcome shock to him. There were not many young men, in his opinion, who would be able to exercise the proper control over his strong-willed daughter, and Lord Pontley was the only one he had met.

  “Is Miss Forbes away from home?” Pontley asked, when no effort was made to send for her.

  “She has been visiting a friend at Burgess Hill for some time, though she travels about from there, and I can never be sure precisely where she is. I simply direct my letters to her there, and she is careless in hers as to where she is at any given time.” He appeared perplexed by this aberration in his daughter and wished to make some excuse for her, but could think of none.

  “I should like to speak with her. No doubt you have been informed that she has chosen to cry off."

  “Yes,” Mr. Forbes sighed. “I am sorry to hear it, my lord. I would like to see her comfortably settled, and I cannot doubt that she would be with you."

  “Perhaps she has transferred her affections to another young man,” Pontley suggested impassively.

  Surprised, Mr. Forbes said stiffly, “There has been no suggestion of such a thing. I cannot recall her even mentioning a man in her letters. My daughter is not given to erratic behavior, and would hardly flit about in such a manner. She chose you after careful consideration, and after years of not lacking for suitors, I promise you. Your new situation can only enhance her position."

  “She was not pleased with my new situation."

  “Nonsense! How could she not be?"

  “She had accepted for a husband a man who would be away at sea a good deal of the time, and found herself subsequently engaged to one who would be underfoot."

  Mr. Forbes, at first wont to regard this as flippant, after a moment considered it seriously. “Did she tell you so?"

  “Yes, though more politely."

  “But she continued the engagement after you had been here to tell her of the change."

  “It was a temporary arrangement; she desired time to think matters over."

  “I see.” Mr. Forbes determinedly considered the significance of his daughter's actions. At length he lifted tired gray eyes to the intent brown ones opposite him. “I am sure she meant you no harm, sir. If there is a culprit in the case it is myself with my fears of leaving her stranded. Do you mean to go to Burgess Hill to speak with her?"

  “Yes."

  “Then I pray you will tell her she is never to marry on my account alone. She is a clever girl and will be able to manage without a husband. I have always known that, of course, but marriage for her seemed a more suitable solution."

  “I will tell her, sir.” Pontley rose and offered his hand to the older man. “Your daughter assessed the situation accurately, and I don't doubt all would have been well enough had not both of my cousins died."

  Mr. Forbes nodded his understanding. “Give her my love."

  * * * *

  But Pontley was unable to give Glenna her father's love because of course he did not find her at the vicarage. When he was announced, Phoebe had the most horrid foreboding that the truth was about to come out and she tried desperately to prevent it. Pontley was at first puzzled, and then amused, by her machinations, which eventually led to her taking him on a tour of the vicarage gardens.

  “Perhaps you would explain to me, Miss Thomas, why my presence so upsets you,” he suggested with exaggerated politeness.

  Phoebe bit her lip and contemplated an answer which would not altogether throw the fat into the fire. “Well, you see, my lord, my parents are not aware ... that is, Glenna is not here and my parents have no idea where she is and do not expect her."

  “And yet her harp is resting in your drawing room."

  A flush followed by a giggle greeted this remark. “Yes, I have been attempting to learn how to play it."

  “Where is Miss Forbes?"

  “I should not like to say, my lord."

  “Her father believes that she is here or visiting around the neighborhood."

  “Yes"

  “Yes, what? Is she visiting in the neighborhood?"

  “Not precisely. She would not wish for you to know where she is, Lord Pontley, though I assure you she is perfectly safe and well."

  He frowned. “Do you mean to tell me that she is somewhere her father would not approve, Miss Thomas?"

  Phoebe bent to pick a flower and kept her eyes on the border. Evasively she replied, “I could reach her for him in the matter of an hour, had he need of her."

  “That hardly answers my question, Miss Thomas."

  “I think he would not disapprove, if he understood the whole story.” Phoebe felt pinned by his eyes and squirmed uncomfortably. “There is no need to tell him, you know, for she will be home in just a short time now."

  Pontley emitted an exasperated sigh. “Very well, Miss Thomas. I will disturb your peace no further, but if I find she is not in Hastings within the week I will be forced to inform her father of this ... escapade."

  “Thank you, sir. I will make sure that she is home by then."

  “Please excuse me to your parents. I would find it difficult to face them again in the circumstances."

  Phoebe watched him walk away with relief, and went in directly to write a note to Glenna. She dispatched it within the hour by a messenger who unfortunately dawdled on the way.

  * * * *

  Glenna was having one of her rare breaks from the dowager, and even then she was performing a task for her. But she delighted in being in the sunlight with the smell of the warm strawberries all about her and the chance to slip a few in her mouth as she gathered them. It was rare for them to have a visitor at Lockwood and she squinted her eyes against the sun when she heard hoofbeats on the gravel drive. The visitor did not stop at the house but drove around to the stables and alighted there. Not until he began to walk toward the house, a progress which would take him right past her, did she recognize him; the limp betrayed his identity before ever she could see his face clearly.

  For a moment she thought to dash away from him, but that would only draw his attention. Instead she continued to pick the strawberries as calmly as she could, gradually turning her back to him. If he would just go into the house she could slip in the back way and up to her room without being seen. Somehow she would manage to pack and be away from Lockwood before he could see her, and she would never be discovered because his aunt would only inform him that a Miss Stokes had most mysteriously and ungratefully disappeared.

  Unfortunately, Pontley, having observed what the young woman was doing, conceived a strong desire to taste the strawberries. He strode over to her and remarked, “Quite a fine early crop. I had no idea there were strawberries.” Her lack of response drew his second gaze, and for a moment he stood speechless. “What the devil are you doing here?!"

  Glenna dropped a demure curtsy and murmured, “It's a long story, my lord."

  “I have sufficient time to hear every word of it.” He stood, hands on buckskin-clad hips, glowering down at her.

  “Surely there is no hurry. You must wish to wash the dust from your face."

  “And give you time to make your escape? You sadly underestimate me, my dear girl. I will hear your story right now."

  “I feel so foolish,” she whispered.

  “You look foolish, Miss Forbes. What are you dressed up to be—the milkmaid?"

  Glenna lifted her chin defiantly and plucked at the frumpy brown cotton gown. “I am dressed in accordance with my role as your aunt's companion, Lord Pontley."

  “Did she require you to
change the color of your hair?” he asked angrily.

  “No, of course not. That was a touch of my own,” she admitted proudly. “I thought if I powdered it I would look older."

  “You look ridiculous, Miss Forbes.” He grasped the modest cap which rested on her silvery curls and tossed it on the ground. “Shake it out."

  “The powder will ruin my gown,” she protested.

  “Your gown should be burned in any case!”

  “Do you want me to take if off, too?” she asked pertly.

  “Shake the powder out of your hair, Miss Forbes.”

  Glenna obediently attempted to pat the powder from her springy curls. When she was only minimally successful, her ex-fiancé ruthlessly assisted her until the red-gold could once more be seen, and then he dusted the powder from her face with his handkerchief.

  “Very well. I am ready to hear your story now."

  “You have ruined the strawberries and gotten powder on your coat,” she pointed out.

  “Miss Forbes, my patience is running out. Begin.”

  She sighed forbearingly. “I thought you were very callous to leave your aunt here alone when she had just lost both of her sons, and you mentioned that she was looking for a companion."

  “I also mentioned that she would not be interested in seeing you."

  “Yes, and I thought it politic to come here as my cousin, Mary Stokes, who is in London and would not, I feel sure, mind my borrowing her name for a while."

  “You arranged this, I presume, through your friend at the vicarage in Burgess Hill?"

  “Have you gone and upset Phoebe? That is very unkind of you, my lord."

  “How was I to know that my coming there to find you would upset her? She promised to have you back with your father in a week, but would not tell me where you were."

  “She is very loyal. I wonder how she has progressed on the harp."

  “Not well, I should imagine,” he drawled. “I must ask you to return to the matter in hand, Miss Forbes."