by Joan Smith
I accompanied him to the door, said good evening, and he left. The sound of a man's footfall on the landing warned me that some other company was approaching, so I held the door open. Annie had not mentioned that Pepper was coming, but he kept in close enough touch that he usually knew when we would be in, and sometimes popped in unannounced.
I knew as soon as I saw the top of the man 's head that it was not Pepper. The hat was too stylish. The gait too was faster than an elder man's would be. Who was it? I watched as the new arrival and Lord Paton exchanged a glance in passing. Then the newcomer looked up and I recognized the face of Geoffrey Nesbitt.
My mind went blank. I could feel my face contort in a hideous parody of virtue outraged. I was aware, as if viewing the whole from a great height, that Paton turned and looked up at me. He hesitated a moment, uncertain whether he should leave me in such distress.
"Geoffrey!" I said in a strangled whisper.
Paton turned and began to remount the stairs again, casting suspicious looks at Geoffrey. "Emma, are you all right?" he called.
Geoffrey gave him a sharp look. "Who is this man, Emma?" he demanded.
My answer was to Paton, for I wanted above everything to get him out of the way before Geoffrey and I came to cuffs. "Yes, it's fine, Paton. Thank you. I can handle this."
He looked, waiting for an introduction.
"Tomorrow," I called to him, and ushered Geoffrey into the flat.
The last I saw of Lord Paton was a worried frown, as he hovered, wondering what he should do. Then I turned to confront my cousin.
I have spoken in a derogatory way of Geoffrey, and would not want to leave you with the impression that he is a physical mo nster. He is not at all ugly, just pompous. He is of medium height, with medium brown hair, fair to middling handsome. Mediocre in every way.
He put his hands on his hips like an outraged housekeeper and said, “This is a fine how-do-you-do, I must say, Emma. What do you mean by rushing away from Nesbitt Hall as though I were an ogre? Have you any idea of the sort of questions and insinuations I have been subjected to over the past weeks?"
"None, and I couldn't care less. You were well paid for any slight inconvenience my departure caused you."
His voice rose to dangerous heights. "Slight inconvenience! That is putting it mildly. The neighbors half believe I have done away with you."
"Nonsense. Annie corresponds with half a dozen of them. They know perfectly well how the situation stands, that she and I are living in this hovel because my father gave you all our money."
He began pacing the floor. "Well, if that isn't just like a woman! To go dashing off, imagining herself a put-upon heroine."
"Dramatics aside, you cannot believe I am not put upon!"
"You have brought any hardship endured upon yourself."
"I prefer my present circumstance to being your wife," I snapped. "It seems that is the only alternative my father left. Everything—house, money, consuls—all were given to you, carte blanche."
"I had nothing to say about that. I was astonished when I heard the will read."
"You were in seventh heaven!" I charged. "Do you think I'm blind? I saw you smirking into your collar, trying not to shriek for joy as the will was read. It was your giving my father those damned French books to read that did the mischief in the first place, and don't pretend you were unaware of Mr. Rousseau's philosophy, for I am not an idiot."
"Now, Emma," Annie said placatingly.
"Don't either of you try 'now-Emma-ing' me. It was infamous." Hot tears scalded my eyes at the memory of that dreadful morning. I blinked them away and continued with my tirade, for if I did not, I felt I would burst. Geoffrey Nesbitt was the very incarnation of my doom.
Geoffrey twitched at his collar and tried not to gloat. "It is true I feared you would play ducks and drakes with your father 's fortune," he admitted. "The estate was entailed upon me, there was no injustice in that. I did think your father would leave you the bulk of the money...."
"And were at pains to forestall him!"
"Your father—and I—wanted you to continue living where you were born and raised. A marriage between us was the logical, reasonable thing. I dare say your father thought you likelier to comply if you —"
"If I had no say in the matter!" I flung back angrily. "If the alternative was poverty. That is a fine, Christian point of view. I wonder he did not hire a pen of lions to ensure my accepting. And let me tell you, Geoffrey, I would rather be eaten alive by lions than marry you!"
He stiffened up. "I have come to make an alternative arrangement, one that does not include a pride of lions," he said, emphasizing the word "pride." It is exactly the sort of pedantry that infuriates me with Geoffrey. He will think of semantics, or whatever it is called, at such a critical moment as this. "It was never your father's—or my—intention to see you penniless. Naturally we discussed the eventuality that you refused to have me. Your father trusted me to behave in a gentlemanly manner if that happened. If you are convinced we do not suit— "
I snorted like a penned bull. He glared, and continued. "If you wish to set up a separate residence, naturally some equitable settlement must be made. It was what your father wanted."
This fell on my ears like celestial music. I stopped ranting and stared in disbelief. "What do you mean?"
"I have discussed it with my solicitors. Your father left approximately fifty thousand pounds in cash and investments. Some of it will be required to run the Hall."
"It more than pays for itself!"
"Very true, but the whole of the sum was left to me. Your father and I decided, and my solicitor thinks it a generous settlement, on splitting the fifty thousand equally."
Though I am no mathematician, it did not take me long to latch on to the sum of twenty-five thousand pounds. I was delighted, but with my recent practice in haggling with Mrs. Speers, I tried to up the sum. "Which leaves you, a mere cousin, with an estate worth fifty thousand easily, and twenty-five thousand cash."
"The mother's dowry is usually given to the daughter. Your mother's dot was twenty-five. That is the sum your father determined," he said stiffly. "I have the papers here," he added, and patted his pocket.
The cliché about the bird in the hand popped into my head. Geoffrey was not obliged by law to give me so much as the steam off his porridge. I gracefully relented and said, "Well, if Papa thought twenty-five thousand was fair ..."
"Generous! That is very generous, Geoffrey," Annie exclaimed. "Why, Emma, we can look higher than a set of sublet rooms in the Westgate Buildings. We can hire a house."
All was restored to peace, and even jollity. We had wine, and later the platter of ham and cheese prepared for Paton. Annie and I made light of the travails of managing without a servant.
"It is infamous to see you living like this!" Geoffrey exclaimed, but not in his usual toplofty fashion. He was so happy to be free of having to marry me that he was nearly giddy. He had no more love for me than I for him, but is one of those gentlemen who will do anything for money. "We must see you removed to a decent place, and servants hired before I leave. Then I can return to Milverton with my head held up."
"I shall have twelve hundred and fifty pounds per annum. We are rich, Annie!" I laughed.
"Lord Paton will be surprised to hear of your change in fortune." This had occurred to me long since, but it did not seem the time to mention it.
"Is that the fellow who was scowling at me on the stairs as I came up?" Geoffrey inquired.
"Yes." I blushed.
"Surely he is not the Duke of Crannock's son and heir!"
"Yes," I said again.
"Good God! Don't tell me you have nabbed a marquess. My generosity was not necessary."
This pernicious idea had to be talked away at once. "Good gracious, he is only a friend. I have not nabbed him."
"But you might, with twenty-five thousand pounds," Annie said.
"That would be an excelle
nt connection." Geoffrey beamed. Titles rank second only to hard cash in his hierarchy of virtues. I think he would gladly part with my dowry to be able to claim such a connection. "How did you meet him? I thought he lived in London. And of course his family seat is in Kent."
"He is visiting an aunt in Bath," I explained.
"And since you are in mourning, he cannot take you out to assemblies or such things," Geoffrey said. He noticed my toilette. "I say, Emma, a brown gown is a little unusual, is it not? What must Lord Paton have thought?"
Annie answered for me. "Oh, we were staying in, you know, so it did not seem to matter. Paton is not fastidious."
"Just so you observe all the proprieties when you go out with him."
A whole swamp of difficulties rose up in my mind's eye. I hadn't brought a stitch of mourning with me. How was Geoffrey to take us about, hiring a house and servants, without soon being privy to the fact?
He must be got rid of as soon as possible, and till that time, I must develop some indisposition that put me securely in bed. I soon began coughing delicately into my fist, and said my throat felt a little rough. I inquired where he was staying so that I might send him a note in the morning putting off our house-hunting. I did not mean to be so ill that the solicitor could not come to settle the payment, however. He soon left, and Annie and I settled down to scheming.
She was fully alive to the necessity of my becoming ill. "We'll ask Geoffrey to bring the solicitor here. We must send Paton a note as well, and explain that we will not be requiring Mr. Percival's rooms," she added.
"Yes, certainly, but do not give the reason yet, Annie. I will tell him in my own way, and in my own time."
"I'll write, and explain that you are feeling poorly."
"Yes, but tell him we will not be taking the rooms, for Percival will want to find someone else. I must write to Isabel too. I am so relieved that we straightened out the business of Lord Ronald before this came up. Lady DeGrue will be on the alert to protect her now."
"Will you continue writing for Arthur?" Annie asked later.
"No, I shall concentrate on my novel. Mrs. Speers is making a fortune. Besides, it's fun. But I shall find it difficult to keep in the gloomy groove with all this good fortune. Isn't it lovely being rich again, Annie? We'll visit London one of these days."
Anything that removed her from Bath and Arthur received short shrift. "I don't see how London can be much nicer than Bath," she said.
It was not a night for retiring early. Annie wrote all the necessary notes to give the pretence that I was ill, then we sat talking over wine. Annie would lend me a mourning gown for the solicitor's visit, to fool Geoffrey. After we had ironed out these little difficulties, we planned out our future and mentally spent our fortune a dozen times. Eventually we did go to bed.
For the first time since the reading of the infamous will, I was at peace with my father. I even shed a private tear in memory. He had not meant to disinherit me, nor was Geoffrey such a deep-dyed villain as I feared. In my diary I acknowledged that two more sub-species of gentleman had earned redemption in my eyes. Fathers and cousin-suitors were allowed to possess a degree of fair-mindedness. At this rate there would be nothing left but Frenchmen to disparage. I dare say all Frenchies did not admire Rousseau, if it came to that.
It had been precipitous of me to dash away from home without having even tried to reach a settlement with my cousin. And that essay! I was in a mood to assume mourning for Papa now, and soon realized that it was impossible to do so in Bath. Unless I claimed I had just learned of my father's death ... No, that would not do. I had already implied to friends that he had been dead for a year. Oh, what a tangled web we weave . . .
But it would work out somehow. It is impossible to be depressed when you have a set of papers turning twenty-five thousand pounds over to you. And a marquess lurking in the shadows. Even a duke would not turn up his nose at twenty-five thousand pounds. If Geoffrey could give me a handle to my name, it would be even better, but titles were not his to give, or he would have one himself. He would probably marry some noble lady now.
My last totally unworthy thought was that even if he did, he would still be only Mr. Nesbitt, while I would be the Marchioness of Paton. I would precede him in to dinner, if Paton and I ever visited Nesbitt Hall.
* * *
Chapter 13
It is certainly not my intention to blame it all on Annie, but I do wish I had written those notes of explanation myself. I would have made them less ambiguous. It was bad enough that Isabel came to call the next afternoon, when Annie was supposed to have made clear I was too ill to receive visitors. Isabel very nearly caught me up and about, looking a fright in one of Annie's black gowns. I managed to scuttle into my bedchamber and get a blanket up under my chin before she saw me.
This, of course, made it impossible for me to remove so much as an arm from under the coverings. The mad scurry made my face red, and she thought I was much iller than I was. What I mean is, she thought I was truly ill, and kept her distance. I did not encourage her to come nearer the bed, nor to linger.
Even in my agitated condition, I could see she was upset. We called a few words across the room, and before she left I asked, "How did Lord Ronald's visit go, Isabel?" That, surely, was the cause of her condition.
An unshed tear shone in her eye, and when she replied, her voice was unsteady. "Auntie was dreadfully rude," she said, tossing her curls. "She did not even offer him a glass of wine, and when I did, she said he was in too much of a hurry to stay. Naturally he left very soon after that, for Ronald is very sensitive to a slight. And now you've gone and taken a cold. How can I see him? How can I explain?"
"No explanation is necessary, Isabel. I trust he understands the situation. His advances are not welcome. If he is a gentleman, he will cease pestering you. And if he is not, you will want nothing to do with him in any case."
She gave me a mutinous glare. "But they are welcome! I thought you would understand. Ronald is very intelligent and sensitive and handsome. Don't you think he is handsome, Emma? Everyone says he looks like Lord Byron. He can handle the ribbons like a top fiddler, and quote Latin and Greek."
There was a deal more of the same. She gave me to understand Lord Ronald was good at everything in the world except making an honest living, and I kept reiterating that he was a fortune hunter.
In the end, Isabel gave up in disgust and said, "If you were not ill, you would be in a better mood, and more helpful. Let me know as soon as you are able to go out again, Emma. I must go now."
She whisked out of the room, eyes flashing, and ran right into Geoffrey and the solicitor, just entering the flat. I waited on nettles to hear how Annie mishandled this contretemps. But when Geoffrey espies a pretty heiress, he seldom permits anyone else to hold the floor. Annie introduced them to each other, and from then on the voice heard through the door was Geoffrey's, with an occasional mumble from Isabel, who was in a hurry to leave. I hoped she would not do something foolish about meeting Lord Ronald.
As soon as Isabel said good-bye, I leapt out of bed, put on my slippers, and tidied my hair. The signing of the papers took only minutes. We required two witnesses. Annie was one; for the other, we called in Mr. Bellows, the least shameful of our fellow tenants. The solicitor had deposited my twenty-five thousand pounds in a bank in Bath, and handed me the book. I had only to go the bank and give them a specimen of my signature, and I could go on my spending spree.
We served wine to celebrate this joyful occasion. Bellows's eyes were goggling out of their sockets. When the solicitor rose to leave, I put a hand on Bellows's arm and accompanied him to the door as well.
"What has happened, Miss Nesbitt?" he inquired. "As you are in mourning, I assume someone close to you has died. How fortunate you are to have wealthy relatives." He had managed to get a glimpse at what he was signing.
Not thinking, and wishing only to be rid of him, I said, "It is merely a transfer of funds t
o my name to permit me to live independently."
"But why are you wearing Miss Potter's black gown? I f it your cousin who has—" He looked askance at Geoffrey, trying to discern whether a match was hatching, or if he might try his hand with me again.
"I would prefer if this could remain our little secret," I said coyly. "You will not tell the others."
"Certainly not!"
He left, but I had a sinking feeling he would be back, soon and often. The next move was to get rid of Geoffrey. "Well, Emma," he said as he smiled, "shall we go down to the bank and finish up the papers, or are you eager to begin looking for a house? I have been going through the advertisements in the paper ..."
"Did Annie not explain that I am not feeling well?" I inquired. I dare say I looked a perfect picture of health. Joy and excitement will brighten the eyes and lend a healthy hue to the cheeks. "I crawled from my bed only to sign the papers. I mean to return there immediately."
"Tomorrow, then."
"I'm sure you are very busy at the Hall, Geoffrey. Pray do not feel obliged to linger on my account. Annie and I can handle the bank work."
"But you will want a carriage to go looking for houses."
"I shall buy one."
He laughed as if I had suggested buying a warship. "A pair of green ladies will not want to undertake that without a man to help them."
"We know a few gentlemen. One of them will be happy to assist us."
"Lord Paton!" he exclaimed. "Yes, by Jove, that is an excellent excuse—reason, to call on him. Where does he live, Emma?"
"I would really prefer if you do not call on Lord Paton. Actually it is Annie's friend who will assist us. Mr. Pepper is an excellent judge of horseflesh."
"Pepper? Pepper?" He frowned. "I never heard you speak of a Mr. Pepper, Annie. What relation is he to you?"
"A very good friend—from Ireland," she said vaguely.
"You ladies have certainly scraped up a large circle of friends in a short time. That Miss Bonham seemed a well-bred sort of girl. Very pretty too. Would she be some kin to the Bonhams from Surrey?" Geoffrey inquired.