He wished there could be such happiness as this for his sister. That she should have the joy of discovering the depths and secrets of someone drawn to her by fate. He deliberately drew up the memory of Laura in tiara and lace, at her loveliest, admired and respected by all. He felt sure that she would come to love Oakmont with much of the fervour felt by her husband to be.
CHAPTER 34
LAURA FELT THE THRILL OF escape, when the party left the stultifying air of Oakmont, bent upon adventure. Mrs. Evans had decided that Laura and Mrs. Bell would travel in the baronet’s carriage, while she occupied the barouche with the countess.
The journey was to be broken into two days owing to their late departure. At Exeter, they halted to buy more materials for the banners. The purchases completed, the baronet suggested a short walk, then a luncheon, before they continued their journey.
The ladies accompanied Sir Richard into a lane off High Street, where he pointed up to a carving high on the crumbling wall of a house. The countess seemed unable to share his excitement as she studied the broken emblem.
“Do you not see?” said Sir Richard. “This is the bottom left-hand side of the Morrison crest! This place once housed Sir Belvedere Morrison—younger brother of Sir William. He was a knight attendant upon the Queen!”
“Oh yes!” said Mrs. Bell, breathlessly. “I see it!”
“What a clever little love you are!” cried Lady Clarydon, glancing at Elspeth, who smothered a laugh. Mrs. Bell seemed not to hear her, and Laura was struck by the glowing expression in the lady’s eyes. She noted that the target of Mrs. Bell’s gaze was not the broken masonry but Sir Richard himself, as he used his stick to sketch in the air the missing parts of the crest. He caught that look—indeed he could hardly help doing so—and returned it with an expression much like fervent admiration. The entire group fell silent. He lowered his arm absently, coughed and tore his gaze away.
With a satirical look at her friend, Elspeth said, “We thank you for the wonderful history lesson, Cousin!”
“Fascinating!” said Lady Clarydon. “You have put me in mind to investigate the dear earl’s relics, Sir Richard. I am sure Lord Clarydon will be delighted with such advice as you might give him in digging up the more … elusive clues to his family’s past.”
Elspeth had to turn away, as she could not keep her countenance, but Sir Richard, quite unaware of her ladyship’s mockery, thanked her warmly. A brief look of resentment, which passed over Mrs. Bell’s face, did not escape Laura’s notice.
“Shall we continue our journey?” said Elspeth and, in silent assent, they walked back to the inn. Elspeth and the countess were arm in arm in the lead, their heads together while they giggled. Laura took the baronet’s arm, and Mrs. Bell, avoiding all eyes, trailed in the rear.
Laura could do nothing to lighten the strained atmosphere in Sir Richard’s carriage. Mrs. Bell gazed through the window, having seemingly resolved not to look in the gentleman’s direction. From the baronet’s expression, Laura surmised that he felt remorse for his unguarded moment.
In fact, Sir Richard felt guilty of a serious dereliction of duty owing to his betrothed. His solution was to not look at Mrs. Bell at all, and to frequently smile and nod to his cousin. Laura’s expression he felt unqualified to read—alternately he thought her sad, puzzled, irritated and, once or twice, wryly amused.
In fact, he read her correctly. One feeling tumbled upon another and she had not the strength to pretend otherwise. She looked sidelong at Mrs. Bell’s profile, for she stared fixedly out of the window, tension showing in her cheek. What is to be done? Laura thought. Can they be in love? Everyone is falling in love around me.
She gave a hollow laugh, and Sir Richard chuckled quietly in encouragement. Mrs. Bell’s eyes flickered over to the baronet, their eyes briefly met and Laura caught a kind of terror in the gentleman’s look.
This is horrible—madness! thought Laura.
All three stared fixedly out of the windows. The air was thick with emotion but at least Laura could refuse to look at her travelling companions. After ten minutes or so, in spite of herself, she turned her head back to look at them, and saw that Sir Richard’s gaze had moved to Mrs. Bell, who did not return it, yet slowly a deep blush spread over her cheeks.
They halted in Honiton, where they were to lodge overnight at the inn. The party settled into a narrow, draughty room, while they waited for refreshments. Lady Clarydon yawned and Elspeth followed suit. Sir Richard opened his mouth to speak, failed and picked up the newspaper. The ladies made the occasional innocuous remark, until Sir Richard cried: “Here it is!” He pointed to the announcements of marriages in his newspaper.
Lately, Captain Edward Morrison, son of the late Reverend Augustine Morrison, former vicar of St Bartholomew’s church, Oakmont, in the county of Devonshire, to Miss Evalina Woodruff, second daughter of Colonel Francis Woodruff, ret., of the 25th Regiment of Foot, of Lewton Hall, Lewton, Devonshire.
“Very satisfactory, Richard,” said Elspeth.
“There’s an editor’s note!”
Readers will be gratified to discover that the bridegroom is the same
Captain Morrison who was decorated by HM The King and celebrated by the British Public for his heroism in the defence of the HMS Capricornia. The captain suffered grievous injury but it will surprise none to hear that he has fought his disablement with the same courage that characterised his naval career. On behalf of the many readers who wrote to The Times on the occasion of Captain Morrison’s triumphant return to Britain, the editor expresses congratulations and earnest wishes for every happiness to Captain and Mrs. Morrison.
He looked around in delight. “What do you think of that?”
“Let me see it for myself, Richard,” said Laura, coming to the table.
“It’s wonderful, Cousin,” said Elspeth. “What think you, Countess?”
“It will be the talk of drawing rooms all over our great country.”
“I fear none of you will wish to know me now you are to be famous!”
Everyone laughed; it was their first moment of cheer since Edward’s wedding.
Buoyed by this pleasant diversion, they sat down to dine. Her ladyship had ordered a good array of dishes and they ate well.
“My friends,” said the countess. Every face turned to her. “I have heard from the earl and he particularly desires me to call upon a friend in Lyme before we carry on to Clarydon Castle.”
Laura felt the blood drain from her cheeks.
“My dear Countess!” cried Elspeth. “Impossible!”
The countess gestured to the maid. “Pray serve some of that excellent pie to the gentleman.” The girl folded her apron in her hands and picked up the hot dish to take it to the other end of the table.
“We were … um … eager to see Clarydon Castle,” said Sir Richard.
The countess looked from one to other of them. “Are you equally prejudiced against the place, Miss Morrison?”
On hearing the name, the maid serving them almost dropped the dish of pie as she lowered it to the table, and cried out as the hot vessel burned her hand.
Elspeth said, “Clumsy girl! Know you not how to attend to your betters?”
“Sister!” said Laura. “Do not be so hard upon her.” She turned to the servant. “Are you hurt? Let me see it.”
“Miss Morrison is the soul of kindness,” said the countess, as the girl approached Laura.
Laura laughed at the awed look on the girl’s face. “I am not very famous!” She turned over the injured hand. “You have burned yourself. Find my maid, Miss Sarah Jones, and tell her I wish her to tend you. She is very skillful for one so young.”
“Thank’ee, Miss.”
“Off you go then.”
Taking action on this small matter somehow gave Laura courage. As soon as the meal was over, she excused herself, went to her room and wrote a letter to Sir Richard.
My dearest Cousin,
I write knowing I will astonish you and
perhaps cause you pain.
You made your generous offer on account of the compromising position in which I placed myself in September. We entered our understanding for motives that can no longer hold true. I am now quite convinced that my illness was of a passing nature.
You have noted, I am sure, my reticence in the past weeks. I have come to see that happiness does not lie in the direction of our marriage.
You are the very best of men, Richard, and I hope you will always be my friend, but I beg you to release me from an engagement that can serve the interests of neither of us.
God bless you!
With deepest obligation,
Laura
In the parlour, Laura found the party seated in discomfort upon the heavy benches by the fire, while Lady Clarydon presided from the only armchair. In Laura’s absence, they had fallen in with the countess’s plans. Again, Laura found her movements arranged for her. Of all the party, she would be likely to have the strongest objection, yet no one thought seriously to consult her. Her pride revolted at the opportunity placed before the people of Lyme to laugh at her again, though it would most likely be behind their hands when she was under the countess’s protection.
Sir Richard bade the others goodnight rather early, and Laura made haste to follow him. Coming from the parlour, Laura found the passage was dark. She made out the figure of her cousin, silhouetted against the light cast by a lantern. She called softly, “Richard!”
He turned and she could not see his face in the dimness. He walked back to her and she handed him the letter.
“Laura, what …?” he began to say.
She placed her fingers on her lips and looked back at the sitting-room door. She spoke in an urgent whisper. “Not now, Richard. Pray read it and wait until we can speak alone.”
He nodded slowly.
“Do not speak of it before my brother and sister, Richard!”
He reached for her hand, but she withdrew it before he could grasp it.
“No.”
Muffled conversation echoed in the passage, perhaps carried up the stairs or from their sitting room.
“Good night,” she said, and he heard the silken wavelets of her skirt swish by him as she hastened away.
Sir Richard stood there. Some member of their party was coming—he heard the sound of the parlour door. It opened and, in the light spilling into the passage, he saw Mrs. Bell barely five paces from him. Coming into the dimness of the passage, she did not see him and turned to close the parlour door. He held his breath, frozen, then hastily put the letter in his pocket. The slight movement revealed his presence and she stopped; then took a step in his direction. He reached out his hand to her. She did not speak, but scurried away, only the fringes of her dark shawl tapped against his hand as she passed him.
CHAPTER 35
THOUGH SHE WOKE EARLY TO the bustling sounds of an inn, Laura waited until she was sure that the others would be assembled for breakfast before entering the dining parlour. She took her place and accepted a serving of toast before darting a look at Sir Richard in order to read his expression. With crumpled forehead, he shook his head. Laura raised her eyebrows slightly, to indicate that he must be more discreet.
No doubt he felt he was being very subtle, but not subtle enough for Elspeth, whose eyes narrowed. She darted a suspicious look at Mrs. Bell. The wretched woman was blushing!
When they prepared to enter the carriages, Mrs. Bell was handed into the countess’s barouche. “I have missed you terribly, my Ding Dong Bell,” said Lady Clarydon.
Laura felt a sense of relief that the tension of yesterday might not be repeated, with Mrs. Bell in another vehicle.
“I will travel with you, if I may, dear Richard,” said Elspeth.
Just as Sir Richard handed Elspeth into the carriage, Laura heard a voice behind her whisper “Miss … Miss …”
Laura turned and recognised the maid who had attended their party at table the night before.
“Oh, it is you,” she said. “Is your hand a little better? It was very painful, I am sure.”
“Thank’ee, miss. You was kind to me—you asked mistress not to work me too hard today.”
“I am very happy if she has heeded my request.”
The girl quickly looked over her shoulder before whispering, “I knows about the letter!”
Laura looked at her in astonishment. “What letter? I’m afraid I do not understand you.” Could the girl have seen her pass the letter to Richard? she wondered.
The girl’s eyes narrowed. “You do know! I want to tell you that I’ll never tell, not never.”
“You have confused me with some other lady,” said Laura.
“It were you as writ a letter to the gen’leman a few weeks past!”
So she does not refer to last night, thought Laura.
Elspeth lowered the carriage window. “Let us be off, Laura.”
“Wait, Elspeth. I wish to understand what this girl is saying.” Laura walked a few paces away and the servant girl followed her.
“You say I sent a letter to … a gentleman?”
“Yes, but don’ be afeard. I’ll tell Jem … my sweetheart, not to say nothing to no one.”
“I wrote no such letter.”
The girl bristled. “I were trying to help. He were told not to tell no one or he’ll lose his place.”
“What?”
“He were give the letter to carry.”
Elspeth called loudly and Sir Richard came to escort Laura to the carriage.
“I am sure you mean well,” said Laura.
She took Sir Richard’s hand and he assisted her into the carriage. He followed her and took his place.
Elspeth gave the servant girl a withering look before she pulled the blind up. “Let us go at once, Richard,” she said.
He rapped his stick on the roof of the carriage and they started off down the road.
“What has that wretched girl been saying?” Elspeth asked.
Laura merely looked perplexed.
“Well, Laura? Answer me, pray.”
Laura took a deep breath and said, as calmly as she could, “She claims I sent a letter to … a gentleman.”
“Oh, Laura, how could you?”
“You asked me what the girl said and I’m telling you. Of course I did not write such a letter—as if I would!”
Elspeth looked at her doubtfully. “I do hope …”
“Elspeth, I know, with absolute certainty, that I would never have conducted a clandestine correspondence with any gentleman who was neither related nor engaged to me. It would go completely against my nature to do something so improper.”
“That is true, I believe,” conceded Elspeth.
“Thank you.”
“The horrid girl probably made the story up overnight, thinking you’d pay for her silence.”
“That will be it,” said Sir Richard.
“She did not ask me for money.”
“That does not mean she did not hope for it,” said Elspeth.
They rode along in silence for a time. Laura thought over the brief incident the evening before.
“At dinner, the girl seemed surprised at hearing my name.”
“Why would that be?” said Elspeth.
“She has a sweetheart in service somewhere hereabouts—Jem is his name. If he is in Lyme, he may have heard something of me,” said Laura.
“Perhaps he is employed at the inn, if he was asked to carry a letter …” said Sir Richard.
“There was no letter, Cousin,” said Elspeth.
“Oh yes, I was trying to be of assistance.”
“Of course you were.” Elspeth smiled condescendingly. The chill in her tone reminded him of the low value she was accustomed to place on his assistance.
Laura was watching Elspeth carefully. The memory arose before her of young Mr. Woodruff furtively handing her sister a note as she got into the carriage that day. She recalled the way Elspeth covered it with her shawl before slipping into her reti
cule. At the time, Laura thought it a love letter and had felt sorry for him in advance of the reply. Now she wondered.
“Why are you looking at me in that way, Laura?” said Elspeth.
“I think of letters—of who might write them and why.”
“You have been imposed upon, Laura.”
“People do sometimes write secret letters.”
Elspeth laughed, yet Laura felt unconvinced.
“There was truth in her looks,” said Laura.
“My dear, it is her cunning. These people have no scruples when it comes to parting the gullible from their money.”
“Or perhaps the letter is an embellishment of the story by her admirer,” said Sir Richard.
“Well thought!” said Elspeth, giving Laura a triumphant look.
She glided on to another subject with a laughing reference to future letters that might pass between people close to her. This hint about the coming wedding produced so dismal a response that Elspeth began to be more than a little frightened about the match. She wondered at the wisdom of their party going to Clarydon Castle, or Lyme, or indeed anywhere at all, in the company of Mrs. Bell.
Laura felt a surge of anxiety, and pressed her hand to her stomach as the carriage turned into the road that descended to Lyme. There was a lurch of the carriage when the coachman applied the brake and she braced herself against the cushions.
“Are you well, Laura?” asked Sir Richard.
“Yes, perfectly,” she said.
Sir Richard gave her one of his puppy looks and she knew he understood her.
“I will take you down to the Cobb when we arrive,” he said. “You will feel better then.”
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