"What?" The word echoed from the earl's, Vanessa's, and Harry Marletonthorpe's mouths, and she turned toward Harry approvingly, too.
"And you, sir!" she said, sweeping toward him and holding out her hand which he automatically received and bowed over. "It was quite clever of you to cook up this little scheme, to bring Miss—" she turned and looked consideringly at the actress before turning back again and continuing smoothly "—Vanessa here to embarrass Giles. But it won't work, you know. He told me all about it a long time ago."
"He did?" Vanessa was staring uneasily up at his lordship, and Miss Tolliver returned to her side, taking her elbow solicitously.
"But of course, my dear," Miss Tolliver said, "and we have had many a good laugh—"
"Laugh?" Vanessa, unaware that she was being moved slowly but inexorably toward the door, looked back toward Giles in indignation. "Laugh?"
"Oh, no, my dear, not at you," Miss Tolliver soothed, "but at the very idea that someone might think my knowing about your former—er, alliance—would give me a disgust of the earl, or that someone might think that now-dead alliance could be rekindled—"
By this time they had reached the place where Harry Marletonthorpe stood, a smile still on his lips but a hard look growing in his eyes. Vanessa glared at him.
" 'Ere now," she said, dropping some of her carefully cultivated accent in her anger, "I told you he said we was through when he left me, but you said—"
"Oh, be quiet, you idiot!" Harry growled, "can't you see she's guessing?" But that was enough for Miss Tolliver, who smiled up at him.
"Guessing, Mr. Marletonthorpe?" she questioned. "Well, perhaps I am. But if I were a guessing person, I would also guess that this might be a good time for you and Miss— Vanessa—to leave."
A slight backward motion of her head indicated the purposeful advancement of the earl, John, and Gillian, and Harry's lips thinned as he watched them.
"All right," he said. "Fine. My compliments to you, Miss Tolliver. If truth be told, I didn't expect to find you still here, but you are, and this hand is yours." He took her fingers and bowed over them with an easy grace, then raised his eyes to hers, and then to the earl's. "But you win only this hand. All gamblers know that the game isn't over until the last card is played."
And so saying he bowed himself out of the door, stopping with exaggerated courtesy for Vanessa to precede him. He ignored the actress's "And what was that all about?" as he waited for his coachman to bring the coach forward, and was equally impervious to her lament that this whole day had cost her a night's wage at the theater, and a very pretty supper afterward, she had no doubt. "And for what?" Her voice rose on the last word as she was helped into the carriage, and it was apparent that she was fast working herself into a rare temper. A repeat of the question floated back to them as the coach drove away.
"The capable Miss Tolliver." The earl smiled warmly as he approached Margaret and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you. That was very well done. I am in your debt."
With a "Don't touch me!" the lady twisted away and glared up at him. "How dare you? You say you're in my debt when I want you out of my life! I came to you today to tell you that we must put an end to this 'engagement,' and instead I end up more deeply embroiled in your scheme than ever! I did very well before you came into my life, my lord, and I shall do very well when you go out of it again. Which cannot happen too soon!"
"Miss Tolliver—" He held out his hand to her and she pushed it crossly away.
"And in the meantime," she said, "I do not believe I shall ever speak to you again."
Then the capable Miss Tolliver considerably astonished her assembled audience by issuing one angry sob before turning and rushing away.
Chapter 17
The earl's first inclination was to follow her, but as he took the steps two at a time and reached the wide doorway, his grandmother stopped him.
"No, no, no!" she told him, clicking her teeth in vexation. "Let her go. First she'll have a good cry, and then I'll talk to her."
"But Grandmama," the earl protested, "she is distressed—"
"Well, of course she is distressed, you ninny!" the countess responded fiercely. "Who wouldn't be distressed after such a scene? I'm quite distressed myself, let me tell you. A fine thing when I am forced to encounter one of my grandson's inamoratas in the hail of his family home! I don't know what the world is coming to, Giles, truly I don't!"
It was useless for the earl to point out to her that the previous scene had not been of his making; his grandmother told him severely that if he intended to consort wife "feat type of person," such happenings were inevitable. His response feat he was no longer consorting wife "that type of person" and feat he never planned to again brought a sharp "And let feat be a lesson to you!" as his grandmother stomped into fee house, shepherding fee aunts, who had crept out onto the doorjamb, their eyes big wife wonder, before her.
"I swear," fee old lady said irritably, "I can almost feel my palpitations coming on! To think feat you, Giles, should be the cause of fee death of your dear old grandmama—" Since she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, the earl was not unduly concerned, but her daughters took her words to heart. Anxiously clasping one of her hands, Cassandra recited chapter and verse of who knew how many cases where the circumstances had been just the same, and someone had dropped over dead, while Caroline fussed on her mother's other side and declared that what they all needed was a nice spot of tea.
Henrietta merely frowned at the earl, and told him that he could not carry her rooster. That, he decided, was the unkindest cut of all, and with a black brow that made both his butler and several footmen steer clear, took himself off to the library to sooth his feelings with a bottle of his best port. His grandmother, watching him go, smiled consideringly.
Miss Tolliver had had her good cry and was in the midst of packing her valise when the first gentle knock fell on her door.
"Go away!" she cried, expecting the person in the hall to be the earl or her brother.
"Now, now, my dear," a soft voice said as the dowager countess's face appeared around the door. "Is that any way to talk to an old lady?"
"Oh." Margaret stopped, holding a skirt in midair at the sight of her guest, and half-smiled. "Oh, it is you, madam. Of course you may come in. I thought it must be my brother, or Gi—your grandson."
"Oh, well then," the countess agreed, nonchalantly ignoring Miss Tolliver's almost use of her grandson's given name and moving into the room to seat herself on Miss Tolliver's bed to watch the packing with interest. "You would be quite right to send them away. Men are such ninnies, my dear. I don't know how we abide them."
"Ha!" Miss Tolliver gave a most unladylike snort signifying her agreement. "You're quite right, dear Countess. And I, for one, have no intention of abiding them further!"
"Ah!" The countess nodded intelligently. "That would be the reason for the packing!"
"Yes!" Miss Tolliver gave up her efforts to correctly fold the skirt and stuffed it instead into the only space left in the bag. "I am going home!"
"Quite right," the countess approved. "In fact, I am thinking of going home myself. I have never bees so disgusted wife Giles in all my life." She lowered her voice as if sharing a great secret. "It grieves me to tell you this, my dear, but he is really the best of my family."
"You have my condolences," Miss Tolliver answered, setting the valise on the floor and picking up another to place on the bed.
"Yes," fee countess said. "It is a most sobering thought," She watched Miss Tolliver throw open the large cupboard behind her and reach into it for the dresses newly acquired in London. Out came the salmon walking dress and the blue velvet riding suit, the morning dresses and the evening gowns trimmed in lace, chosen with such care by their owner and now treated so ruthlessly as she strove to deposit them in her bag. "Oh, my dear, have a care!" The countess was moved to protest at the treatment of one particularly fine blue silk gown that matched its owner's eyes to perfection. "
You'll wrinkle that past bearing! Here, let me help!"
She reached for the gown and smoothed the silk tenderly as Miss Tolliver tossed the other dresses onto the bed and stared helplessly at them.
"It's no use," Margaret said. "I'll have to have my trunks sent on later."
"Quite right," the countess agreed. "A much better plan! After all, when one is running away, it is such a bother to have to pack first."
"What?" Margaret let the dress she had just picked up fall again as she stared at the old lady.
"I was merely saying, my dear, that it is such a bother to pack—"
"No," Margaret said. "The part before that."
"Before that—?" The countess seemed doubtful, and Margaret supplied the words for her.
"You said I was running away," Margaret said.
"Oh, that! Yes, of course!" She looked at Miss Tolliver inquiringly, "Well?"
"I'm not running away!" Miss Tolliver exclaimed.
"No?" The countess's face was doubtful. "I must have misunderstood! I thought you said you were going—"
"I am going!" Miss Tolliver told her. "But I am not running away!"
The countess shook her head slowly, one hand absently twisting the lace spread that covered Miss Tolliver's bed. "Let me understand this," she begged. "You are leaving because of what just happened here, but you are not running away!"
"Well, yes—" Miss Tolliver said. "I mean—no. I mean—" She put one hand to her head and took several hurried steps around the room. "I don't know what I mean!" she cried, falling into a chair near the countess and pulling distractedly at the doilies that covered its arms. "I feel as if I have no hand in ordering events—as if they are ordering me—"
"Well," the countess comforted, "you certainly ordered events this afternoon! And they say this Vanessa person is an actress! My dear, you were superb!"
"But I didn't wish to be superb!" Miss Tolliver told her, harassed. "I went out of this room this afternoon with the firm intention of telling his lordship that we must put an end to this pretend engagement before it becomes even harder to do so—" It was as if she suddenly realized how those words sounded, for her color heightened, and it clearly required resolution to pretend they had never been said as she continued. "Now I've come back into this room less than an hour later more firmly embroiled than ever! Well, I won't have it, I tell you! I won't!"
The countess told her she understood. Without hesitation she joined Miss Tolliver in every aspersion she cared to cast on the male sex in general and the sixth Earl of Manseford in particular, even going so far as to say that she quite understood why Miss Tolliver would like to hold him and his family up to the ridicule they so abundantly deserved .. . although she rather thought it would be hard on Peter. . . and on herself, of course, for she was an old woman.
Miss Tolliver eyed her consideringly. "Ridicule?" she repeated.
The countess nodded mournfully, and said that when the story got out—as Harry would no doubt see that it did when he realized his plan had chased the earl's intended away— Giles wouldn't be able to hold his head up, "for you must know, my dear, that he is a proud man, and would find it hard to bear the whispers and innuendos that an actress appeared at his home and gave his betrothed such a disgust of him that she left immediately. And then, of course, there is John—"
"John?" Miss Tolliver questioned, surprised.
Sadly the countess responded that just a whiff of scandal could ruin the most promising political career.
"But it is not John who is scandalous!"
The countess shook her head despairingly. "It doesn't matter," she sighed. "It is scandal by association in our world, and Giles is John's brother. And if we think it will be hard on John—oh, my, just think of Gillian!"
"Gillian?" Miss Tolliver's head was reeling, and she wished that she had never heard of the Manfield men. The countess continued.
"Oh, my dear, yes. I know Gillian could never bear to hear any slings cast upon his brother, so you can imagine the fights. . . perhaps duels. . ." The old lady sighed again. "I should not tell you this, but he is not a very good shot, our Gillian."
"Oh." Miss Tolliver sank down further into her chair. "I did not think—I certainly would not wish—perhaps I could stay. . ."
The countess was smiling to herself when Miss Tolliver took her aback by looking up and shaking her head with resolution. "No, dear madam, I cannot. This farce must be ended—"
Willingly perjuring herself, the countess agreed that it must, but added, "Could you not wait just a little longer, my dear? Until we are sure Harry has relaxed his vigilance—"
Miss Tolliver regarded her with doubt and curiosity. "What is there between Harry Marletonthorpe and his lordship?" she asked. "I knew the first day I met Mr. Marletonthorpe that there was something, but all the boys are remarkably closemouthed about it, and when I asked the earl—"
"He said it was nothing at all," the countess supplied, accurately gauging Miss Tolliver's darkling look.
"Yes."
"His grandfather was just as exasperating," the countess complained. "And nothing I ever said could move him from that code of honor. . . Well, I suppose I didn't really want anything to move him because I was in love with an honorable man." She sighed heavily, and her eyes took on a faraway look. "How I miss him! What a dear, proud man he was! Giles is a great deal like him, although Giles was thrust into his responsibilities at such an early age that he never had the opportunity to develop the playfulness my Robert had. . ."
She was silent several moments and then, noticing Miss Tolliver's look of quick sympathy, gave herself a shake and said briskly, "Well, what a silly old woman I am, going on like that when you asked me about Harry Marletonthorpe!"
"Not silly—" Miss Tolliver assured her, but the countess interrupted with a firm "Very silly" before starting her tale.
She told Miss Tolliver that she had heard the story from Chuffy Marletonthorpe because that poor soul felt so bad about the entire situation that he had poured the information into her ears upon their first meeting after it happened.
"It?" Miss Tolliver questioned.
The countess nodded. "It seems that one night there was a card party at Giles's house in town—a few of his intimates, and Harry, because he was visiting Chuffy at the time—not because he was a friend of Giles. Actually, Harry is more John's age, but they never have been friends, either. I don't think Harry has many friends, really. . . but there— I'm off the story already!"
It seemed, the countess continued, that Harry was dipping pretty deep the night of Giles's card party. There was nothing new in that—Harry often did. It also seemed, she told Miss Tolliver, that the younger Marletonthorpe hadn't a feather to fly with—a circumstance that also was not new. What was new was that he was apparently more desperate than usual, for he tried cheating at cards.
"What?" Miss Tolliver exclaimed.
"Yes." The countess nodded. "Tried cheating Giles's friends. And wasn't very good at it, either, because Giles saw him. Out of consideration to Chuffy, Giles merely told Charleton about it and requested that he remove his brother from Giles's house immediately. Chuffy did, of couse—he was so embarrassed, and I understand Charleton and Harry had quite a turn up over it—in fact, Chuffy told me later that they didn't speak for months, until Harry's more pressing debts made approaching his brother for relief far more important than his pride. So the brothers have reconciled— uneasily, perhaps, but they do speak—but Harry has hated Giles ever since and would love to do him mischief if possible."
"But he should be grateful Giles didn't expose him in front of all the guests!" Miss Tolliver objected.
"Yes." The countess smiled inwardly at Miss Tolliver's unconscious use of the earl's name. "But I've often noted that the people who should be most grateful for a kindness are those who dislike the person who was kind to them. It is a sorry case, but true."
"I see," Miss Tolliver said absently as she stood and returned to the clothes cupboard.
&nb
sp; "Does that mean you'll stay?" the countess asked hopefully, straightening from her drooping position on the bed.
"Yes "
"Oh, good!"
"But only for a little while!" Miss Tolliver said. "Only until enough time has passed to make it clear to Mr. Marletonthorpe and all other interested parties that our decision that we will not suit is based on mutual agreement and not on the presence of an actress named Vanessa!"
"Quite right!" the countess approved, hopping down from the bed and moving toward the door, where she paused a moment and peered at Miss Tolliver. "My dear," she said, "forgive an old woman her terrible curiosity, but would marriage with my grandson really be so dreadful?"
The question surprised Miss Tolliver, and for several moments the countess thought she would not reply. Then Margaret raised her head and smiled at her. "Why, no,"
Miss Tolliver said in a brittle tone that hung in the air as if the slightest jar would crack it. "I'm sure marriage with your grandson would make any number of women happy. Any number at all—if it were not a marriage forced by circumstance, but rather a marriage of love."
Chapter 18
The dowager countess shut the door quietly behind her before allowing the laughter that had been threatening to overcome her to escape, floating softly on the air as she moved down the hallway, one hand on the old oaken bannister. She looked thoughtfully over the railing to see his lordship's footmen in close and speculative gossip, one eyeing the library door while the other looked upward toward Miss Tolliver's room. When that second servant saw his lordship's grandmother, he blushed and signaled to his friend, and the two melted away, leaving the countess smiling at the place they had been.
Ah, the servants are aware of it too, she thought, staring down, and that is a very good sign, for the servants almost always know what is happening long before the people they serve do. "Oh, I haven't had this much fun for an age!" she said aloud to the family armor of the first earl, which stood as silent sentry at the top of the stairs. "Now to see that silly grandson of mine!" And so saying, she hurried down the stairs and toward the library. There, after one sharp knock, she entered to see Giles seated gloomily by the fire, a bottle of his best brandy by his side, and a snifter in his hand.
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