A Commercial Enterprise

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by Sandra Heath


  One of the Sheraton sideboards had been badly burned and everywhere there was the acrid, pervading stench of the fire. Most of the military banners and union jacks had been taken down and the room cleared of the tables and chairs, but still the echoes of the banquet sounded eerily, as if it was still taking place but could not be seen.

  A moment earlier Mrs. Hollingsworth had been smiling, glad of the news that Gaspard would soon be released, the duke carrying out his word to Caroline, but now her face was shocked. “Close the hotel? You cannot mean it!”

  “My mind is made up.”

  “But—”

  “To begin with we have no dining room,”

  “There are other rooms, and the brigade is more than anxious to continue! Please, my dear, don’t take this dreadful step.”

  “My heart has gone out of it, I just want to turn my back on it all.”

  “This isn’t like you,” said the housekeeper gently.

  “Yes, it is,” whispered Caroline. “It’s very like me to turn my back on things when I cannot endure them anymore. I turned my back on Selford, now I will do the same to London.”

  “That will give victory to the earl after all, and that can never be right!”

  A new voice broke into the echoing room. “It certainly cannot!”

  Caroline turned swiftly, smiling as she saw Jennifer standing in the doorway, looking very splendid in pale pink, silver tassels trembling from her little hat. She came toward them. “From all accounts it is as well that Charles and I returned from France when we did, for now maybe we will be able to stop you from being silly, Caroline Lexham!”

  “France? But were you not—”

  “Destined for Venice? Yes, we were, but Charles confessed that he does not travel well and so we lingered on the French coast instead. Then we became restless, thinking all the while of coming back and doing up Carstairs Place, and so we decided to return to England. We arrived last night, and found my brother had high-handedly moved himself into our house.”

  Caroline looked away. “Yes, I know.”

  Jennifer looked shrewdly at her. “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to wring it from you by force?”

  “There is little to tell.”

  “Little to tell?” echoed Jennifer incredulously. “My dear creature, London is bristling with tales about the events here. I’ve heard so many conflicting tales that I am positively dizzy, and you stand there and say airily that there is little to tell. Now then, I shall stamp my pretty foot with pique if you do not come across properly and behave as a best friend should. Besides which,” she added more meaningfully, “I wish to know what has passed between you and Hal.”

  “Nothing whatever,” said Caroline quickly.

  “I know when I am being humbugged, Caroline,” replied Jennifer briskly, “and I know what the present situation calls for.”

  “What?”

  Jennifer smiled. “Why, toast in Mrs. H’s lair, of course.”

  The smell of toast was as appetizing as ever, even arousing Caroline’s appetite when she had had no interest in eating since the night of the banquet. Aided and abetted by Mrs. Hollingsworth, she related the whole story, and Jennifer listened enthralled.

  “Why,” she said when all had been said, “it is better than the latest novel. And to think that I had the bad sense to be away when it was all going on.”

  Her teasing smile faded then. “But you have not told me it all, have you? You have not told me why Hal left here so suddenly and why he avoids mentioning your name as much as you avoid his.”

  “There is nothing to tell.”

  “Please, Caroline, you must tell me, for how can I help if no one will admit anything? I know that something has happened between you and my brother, something of sufficient seriousness to make him quit these premises and to make you now consider closing the place completely and go back to Devon.”

  Caroline couldn’t tell her, she couldn’t tell her how much she loved Hal, how much she would always love him.

  Mrs. Hollingsworth glanced at her and then put down the toasting fork. “Lady Carstairs, she will not say anything because she is in love with Sir Henry.”

  “Mrs. Hollingsworth!” cried Caroline in dismay. “You should not have said that!”

  “No, but I think that her ladyship should be told.”

  Jennifer looked sadly at Caroline. “Oh, my dearest Caroline, I had no idea—”

  “No, and that was how I wished it to remain.” Caroline got agitatedly to her feet. “You are not to say anything to him, do you hear me? I don’t want him to know.”

  “If that is what you wish, but—”

  “No buts, Jennifer, he is not to know because he already despises me.”

  Jennifer’s eyes widened. “Surely you are wrong.”

  “No, he thinks me a very low creature, Jennifer, capable of anything, even involvement in the assassination attempt on the Duke of Wellington.”

  “Now I know you have taken leave of your senses!” cried Jennifer. “Hal would never think that of you!”

  “But he did for a while, Jennifer, long enough to say as much to the duke, who then related the tale to others. Mrs. Hollingsworth overheard him.”

  “Did you?” inquired Jennifer.

  The housekeeper nodded reluctantly. “I am afraid that I did, your ladyship, though it grieves me to have to say so.”

  Jennifer was brisk and disbelieving. “It has to be a misunderstanding. I know in my heart of hearts that my brother would not think that of you, Caroline. No, it’s no use telling me all over again, I just know that it isn’t true.”

  “Please don’t say anything to him, Jennifer.”

  Jennifer remained silent.

  “Please, Jennifer,” cried Caroline desperately, “you must give me your word.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “I cannot, Caroline, for if I did, I would be being an unworthy friend to you and an unworthy sister to him.”

  “Please, Jennifer.”

  “No. Oh, don’t look at me so reproachfully, for I take this stand for the most noble of reasons. I cannot undertake not to say anything, since I believe him to be innocent, and if that is so, he deserves the right to speak in his own defense.”

  “He will not care what I think of him, he will laugh about it,” cried Caroline. “But I will care very much that he knows my secret. I could not bear it, Jennifer.”

  Slowly Jennifer rose to her feet, the tassels on her little beaver hat trembling just a little as she bent to gather up her reticule and parasol.

  “I will not set out to tell him that you love him, Caroline, of course I will not, but I think I should tell him what it is you think he has said and thought of you. I know my brother, he has never been such a monster that he would say untrue things about a lady, and I know that before I left he held you in very high esteem. He still held you in sufficiently high esteem to wring the truth from Dominic, did you know that?”

  “It makes no difference, Jennifer, for the fact remains that he had thought me guilty, and he thought many other untrue things about me, things which I am ashamed to say to you. Tell him what you wish, it will no doubt amuse him.”

  Jennifer lowered her eyes at the bitterness in these words. Glancing sadly at the silent Mrs. Hollingsworth, she took her leave.

  * * *

  Hal was in the billiard room with Charles, and he straightened from the green baize table as his sister came in. “How charming you look, sis, and where have you been that takes you out before we mere males have even risen?”

  “I’ve been to see Caroline.”

  His smile faded. “I trust she is well.”

  Charles glanced from one to the other. “What exactly is going on? I return from my honeymoon in a state of delirious happiness to find my brother-in-law as bad-tempered as a bear with a sore head and my bride obviously preoccupied with things other than my good self.”

  Jennifer hurried to him, taking his hand and resting it momentarily against her cheek. “Forg
ive me, my love, but it seems my disagreeable brother’s life needs a little of my attention.”

  She turned quickly then, snatching up the cue ball from the table as Hal resolutely made every sign of continuing with his play. “Oh, no, brother mine, you shall not carry on as if nothing has happened.”

  “Don’t be tiresome, Jennifer,” he replied.

  “I am permitted to be as tiresome as I like in my own house, especially with an uninvited guest.” She held his gaze. “Did you believe Caroline to have been part of the plot to kill the duke?”

  Hal stared at her. “Don’t be so damned foolish!” he snapped.

  “Is it foolish?”

  “You know that it is. Of course I’ve never thought that.”

  “She thinks you did, among other sins you seem to have perpetrated against her good name since my back has been turned.”

  She related what Mrs. Hollingsworth had overheard, and then he gave a short, wry laugh. “So, that was why the omnipresent Mrs. Hollingsworth spoke to me the way she did!”

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  “No, it isn’t, for I will tell you that the duke’s version is somewhat incorrect, embroidered upon by the fact that he related it after Caro had been arrested.”

  “Caro?” she asked quickly. “That is an unexpectedly intimate way to refer to her.”

  He turned away. “A mere slip of the tongue.”

  “Is it, Hal Seymour? Or could it be that your pride is making you as obstinate now as Caroline’s is making her?”

  “Don’t interfere in something of which you know nothing, Jennifer,” he replied shortly.

  “I intend to interfere as much as I possibly can,” she retorted, “And for once in your life you will stand there and say nothing more until I have finished. Today a great deal has become clear to me and things which puzzled me a little in the past are now presented to me as solved. I remember how you spoke of Caroline when first you traveled to London with her, and I remember how you enjoyed her company at the opera house. You looked at her time and time again, and I thought you did so with more than amused interest, and now I know that it was indeed something more.

  “Your secret duties forced you to remain at the Oxenford, that I also now understand, but you leaped swiftly enough to her defense when Dominic Lexham posed any threat to her. And you never again felt the same about Marcia once you knew what she had done; you had turned from her even more after the wedding and those beastly cockroaches, hadn’t you? You showed the world the truth then when you kissed Caroline’s hand in front of us all—didn’t you?”

  He said nothing.

  “Didn’t you?” she persisted. “Look at me, you wretch, and admit the truth!”

  He smiled a little then, gently touching her cheek. “What a terrier you are at times, Lady Carstairs. Very well, I admit it, but after my foolishly public display—which display I thank God only you appeared to understand—I discovered that she had been seen fondly embracing and kissing her cousin Lexham.”

  “And you were jealous!”

  Again he said nothing.

  “The truth, Henry Seymour,” she pressed, “for I will hear you say it. Admit that you were jealous and you hid the fact by accusing her of improper conduct. Am I right?”

  “Yes, dammit, you are right! Now, will you please be satisfied and leave the matter alone?”

  “No, I will not leave it alone, for it is too important. Why were you so concerned and jealous that she kissed her cousin?”

  Hal glanced momentarily at Charles, who gave him a sympathetic smile. “You may as well come clean, Hal, for she will not leave you alone until you do.”

  “What manner of support is that from a brother-in-law?” demanded Hal.

  “It is the support of common sense, Hal, for I do believe that Jennifer has discovered you in the wrong.”

  “I have indeed,” declared Jennifer triumphantly, “and you are going to admit it if it is the last thing I do, Hal. I want you to tell me exactly why you were so upset that Caroline should show affection for her kinsman.”

  “For the life of me I cannot see what difference it makes now. Caro loathes the very sight of me now and I cannot say that I blame her after what I’ve said and done.”

  “Don’t avoid the issue,” she said crossly. “Admit that you love her!”

  He gave a heavy sigh and tossed his cue down upon the table. “Very well, I admit it, Jennifer. I was jealous because I loved her.”

  “Past tense?”

  “By God, you are persistent! I love her—present tense. Will that suffice?”

  Tears shone in her eyes then and she smiled, suddenly flinging her arms around his neck. “Oh yes, Hal, that will indeed suffice! You must go to her, you must tell her what you have just admitted here.”

  “Never.” He drew away.

  “Because your insufferable pride gets in the way? Oh, Hal, can’t you see that that is what is happening to her too? She loves you, she told me that she did, but she thinks you do not care for her. You must go to her, for unless you do you will lose her forever—and I will lose the sweetest of sisters-in-law.”

  He caught her hand urgently. “She told you she loved me?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “She is the only one for you, and you know it. If you do not go to Mayfair Street now, you will regret it for the rest of your stubborn life.”

  He looked at her for a moment longer and then pulled her close, kissing her warmly on the cheek. “Very well, I will go to her, but first there is something which must be unpacked from my trunk.” He reached over to take up the little handbell.

  “Something to unpack?” she cried incredulously. “What can possibly be of sufficient importance that—”

  He smiled. “You will understand when you see it.”

  A footman entered. “Sir?”

  “Tell my valet to unpack the green trunk immediately and bring me the small leather box he will find in it.”

  * * *

  Caroline was seated on the bench where first she had had her startling idea to turn Lexham House into a hotel. She wore her old turquoise gown, for somehow it seemed more appropriate now that she had decided to return to Devon.

  Her hair was dressed loosely, several long curls falling down over one shoulder, and the ends of the ribbons tied in it fluttered a little in the soft spring breeze. The daffodils nodded on the lawns, and the gardeners tended the flower beds, weeding carefully between the sedate rows of tulips. How beautiful the house looked, just as it had done on that other occasion.

  She saw Hal approaching, his tall figure very elegant and distinguished beneath the trees. Swiftly she lowered her eyes, her cheeks flushing. How she wished that Jennifer had not learned her secret.

  “Caro?”

  “Please don’t call me that, Sir Henry,” she replied a little stiffly.

  “Why?”

  “And please don’t play games with me, sir, for I do not feel able to parry words.”

  “I will not waste time then. I will tell you straightaway that I did not tell the duke I thought you were one of the conspirators, nor did I tell him that I persuaded you to silence by making love to you. It is my belief that he placed such meaning into what I said because when he related the tale, you had been apprehended. Look at me, Caro, and know that I am telling you the truth.”

  Unwillingly she raised her eyes. “Very well, Sir Henry,” she said at last. “I believe you about that.”

  “Will you also then believe me when I say that never in my life have I so much regretted a thing as I have regretted saying those hurtful words to you, and saying them not only once but on several occasions.”

  Agitatedly she looked away. “Why have you come here like this?” she cried, suspecting him of somehow still mocking her. “Do you do it simply to please Jennifer? Or perhaps you enjoy toying with me?”

  “I have come here because I wish to forget that we have become estranged, especially as that situation has come about through my own actions. And if
I have seemed to toy with you in the past, it has been because I have wanted you so very much. I wish with all my heart that I had never given in to my jealousy, but I did, and I hurt myself as much as I hurt you. I could not bear to think of Dominic Lexham’s arms around you, Caro; it made me want to cause you the pain you caused me.”

  He saw the uncertainty in her gray eyes, and the first stirrings of something more. He took the little leather box from his pocket and gave it to her. “Perhaps this will convince you that you have been in my heart for almost as long as I have known you.”

  With trembling fingers, she opened the box. Inside, flashing and glittering in the sunlight, was her grandmother’s necklace. With a gasp, she looked up into his eyes. “Oh, Hal—”

  “I did not want you to lose it forever, Caro. I knew how much it meant to you. I persuaded Jordan to go along with the deception, for I did not think the moment was right to tell you, and besides, it could somehow have looked like a contravention of your uncle’s damned will! I did it because I loved you, Caro, and I still love you.”

  The little box tumbled to the grass and the necklace spilled brightly among the daffodils as she reached out to him. Then she was in his arms, held as close and cherished as she had always dreamed. “I love you too, Hal Seymour,” she whispered, before his kiss stopped her words.

  Copyright © 1984 by Sandra Heath

  Originally published by Signet (ISBN 9780451131614)

  Electronically published in 2016 by Belgrave House/Regency

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  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228

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  This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.

 

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