“Oh, make it tomorrow, if you will.” She sighed. “How I wish I could come with you.”
The rain held off and the mild weather continued, and although there would be no avoiding the deep mud of the lanes, Leo knew that his carriage was up to the task. It was a new one, specially constructed with heavier wheels and axles, the better to cope with winter roads. He travelled so much these days, and he had found it tedious to be holed up in some nondescript country inn, with little to do and no company, until the rain or snow or floods or some other devilish obstacle had been overcome and his lightweight carriage could continue. Now nothing could delay him. Well, floods were a bit of a poser, it was true, and once or twice gales had brought trees down and blocked the roads, but any abundance of mud could be coped with.
Deirdre and Winifred arrived in the entrance hall first, twittering together in their matching bonnets like two little birds. Then Mrs Price, in a striking black pelisse. There were few women who were flattered by black, but she was certainly one of them.
“Why, Mrs Price, how fetching you are looking this morning,” he said, with a deep bow.
“Why, Mr Audley, how nonsensical you are being this morning,” she said, without a hint of a smile to soften the reproof.
“Is it nonsense to tell a lady that she looks well?” he said teasingly.
“Only if it is untrue,” she said at once. “I look like a crow in black, even my father said so, and no crow could ever be described as fetching.”
“I fancy the crow is a handsome bird,” he said at once, stung to have a perfectly unexceptionable compliment tossed back in his face. “It is said to be intelligent, too, and to understand everything that is said to it. And sociable, I believe.”
“Only with its own kind,” she said acidly, her eyebrows snapping together. “To other kinds of birds, especially predators, the crow is very hostile. I believe the carriage is outside. I daresay even crows might be intelligent enough not to keep the horses waiting.”
The two girls watched them in open-mouthed silence, perhaps registering the tension but not quite sure of the reason for it. Leo was not entirely sure of the reason for it himself. He had paid her a commonplace compliment, and she had all but bitten off his head. And had she just called him a predator? Hostile indeed. He had been bested for once, but he was not deterred, quite the opposite, in fact. A little sparring made the eventual victory all the sweeter. And he would be victorious, on that he was quite determined.
He bowed again, and ushered them to the door and out to the waiting carriage. He helped Deirdre and Winifred inside, and then held out his hand to Mrs Price, although quite sure she would spurn his help. But she did not. “Thank you, Mr Audley,” she said composedly, and took the proffered hand, allowing him to assist her into the carriage. He took his place beside her, the footman closed the door and gave the signal, and they rolled away down the drive.
6: Business And Shopping
Market Clunbury was only a small town, but that made it easy to get about on foot. They left the carriage at the Lamb and Pheasant, bespeaking a private parlour for the day and ordering some food to sustain them after their travails in the shops, although they had breakfasted heartily and would dine even more heartily when they returned to Longmere Priory. Then they separated, the ladies to visit some shops only of interest to females, and Leo to conduct his little piece of business. He went first to the bank, where the manager, knowing him from previous visits, was most obliging, and then back to the inn.
Arthur Tilford was already there, awaiting him in the taproom.
“Do you have it?” he said, his unprepossessing face rendered even less agreeable by anxiety.
“Of course, but do let us go into the parlour.”
Only when they had sent for Madeira and the servant had poured a glass for each of them did Leo reach inside his coat and withdraw a purse clinking with coins.
Tilford sighed with relief. “And you were able to get it all?”
“Five hundred, as you asked.”
“Ah, Audley, you are a good fellow, a very good fellow. Much obliged to you, as always. Lucky for me you came to stay just now, for I don’t know what might have become of me otherwise. But you can afford it, eh? Rich as Croesus, so you can spare a few hundred for your poor brother-in-law.”
“I do this for my sister, not for you, Tilford,” Leo said sharply.
“Of course, dear boy, of course. Well now, you will not mind if I run off and leave you to yourself, eh?” He drained his glass at a gulp. “No need to make polite chitter-chatter, is there?”
“By all means let us dispense with the courtesies, but I would have a few words with you, all the same.” Leo kept his expression affable, but there was a hint of steel in his voice that caused Tilford to flop heavily into a chair that creaked beneath his weight.
“Ah. Thought we’d come to it, sooner or later. It is only a few miserable debts, Audley. I have a position to keep up here, you know, and if the Mayor and Aldermen take a fellow up…” He broke off, seeing the unmoved expression on Leo’s face. With a martyred sigh, he reached for the Madeira bottle.
“I am not interested in your position in society, although you would do better to live within your means, even if it curtails your ambitions,” Leo said. “My only interest is with my sister. Mrs Tilford is your responsibility alone, but I would not have her troubled by anything if I can help it, because if she is troubled, then Gussie is troubled also, and that I will not allow.”
“Of course, of course,” Tilford said, sweat dotting his brow. “No wish to trouble the ladies, none at all. You may depend upon me. This sum will see me clear, and everything will go on charmingly.”
“I trust it will. Was it you who introduced Gussie at a certain house in Water Street?”
“Water Street?” Tilford said faintly.
“You know the place, I am certain of it.”
Tilford blinked at him, his mouth working but no sound emerging.
Leo sighed. “I would be obliged if you would keep her away from such establishments in future. Kingsley is not the man to stand idly by while his wife plunges to the tune of thousands of pounds. He could make her life very uncomfortable if he chooses to cut up rough.”
“He makes her life uncomfortable already, it seems to me,” Tilford said, but seeing the expression on Leo’s face, he held his hands up in surrender. “Never mind. Not my concern.”
“No, it is not. Nor mine, either, to be truthful, but she is my sister, after all.”
“So is Laurel,” Tilford said, draining his Madeira in one gulp.
“Half-sister, and never my responsibility,” Leo said crisply. “I was but ten years old when you took her away from Bath, and her sisters, too. How are they, by the way? You still hear news of them, I take it?”
For an instant, Tilford’s mouth flapped open soundlessly, but then he swallowed and said, “Oh, occasionally. You know how it is. They were very well, last I heard. Well, if that is all, Audley, I shall bid you a good day.”
Leo let him go, finishing his own Madeira at leisure before wandering outside to find Mrs Price and his nieces. He had not far to look, for Mrs Price was standing all by herself outside a haberdashery just across the street from the inn. She smiled and waved when she saw him.
“We have not got very far, as you may observe, Mr Audley,” she said gaily, with no trace of her earlier animosity. “What a fine thing a town is, for one may find some interesting establishment every ten yards. We have already visited a drapery, and peered through the window of a jeweller’s shop, and there is a bookshop, a millinery and a confectionery shop still to entice us, not to mention the delights of the circulating library. How glad I am that you suggested this outing.”
“Is Mrs Miller’s haberdashery not enticing enough for you to venture inside, Mrs Price?” he said, reading the sign above the door hastily.
“It would be, for what could be better calculated to while away an idle hour but drawer after drawer of ribbons and b
uttons and strips of lace?” She sighed in regret. “Sadly, however, the shop is quite full, for Mrs Banstead and her three daughters are within, not to mention Mrs Partridge and her niece and cousin. There was barely enough room for the Miss Kingsleys to squeeze inside. So I have been amusing myself by watching the good townspeople of Market Clunbury passing by, and can you believe it, I have been greeted by two acquaintances already, just in the short time I have been standing here. It is very pleasant to know people, and be able to pass the time of day, even if one talks of nothing more significant than the weather. It is always the weather, is it not? And how fortunate that it is constantly changing, so that we poor humans labouring beneath the sun or the rain or the snow, as it may be, have always some fresh topic of conversation, if there is no other that springs to mind. Was your business conducted satisfactorily?”
“It was,” he said, laughing a little at her happy chatter. How delightful she was when she rattled away in such an artless manner! And her expression so lively that he could not doubt her sincerity. She truly found pleasure in these simple pastimes — shopping for strips of ribbon, or talking about the weather with friends. She would always have friends, that much was certain.
“I saw Uncle Arthur emerge from the inn a few minutes ago,” she said, not looking at him, for she was still gazing about her interestedly, even as she talked. “And then you came out of the same door and, you know how it is, when one’s mind hops about from one thing to another, and I remembered that Uncle Arthur had a matter of business to discuss with you yesterday, and today you have a matter of business also, which is a great coincidence. And then my mind hopped again, and I recalled what you had said about relations always asking you for money. It must be very disagreeable to be constantly put upon in that way. I had never thought about it from that side before, that being very rich might lead to a great deal of tiresome business of that nature. I had always considered the matter from the perspective of the poor relation, and the shame that one must feel in having to beg for help from richer relations. But it is quite horrid on both sides, and much better if it does not happen. But I beg your pardon, I am rambling on. Pray take no notice of my maunderings. Tell me, where is Uncle Arthur’s house?”
“It is on the Welsh road,” he said, only half attending, for he was still caught up in her earlier remarks. “I do not mind supporting my relatives, Mrs Price. It is only fair, when I have so much money and they have so little. My income so far exceeds my needs that I hardly know what to do with it, so it pleases me to bestow largesse on as many sisters and cousins and in-laws as I can.”
“My goodness, then you must be very rich!” she said with artless simplicity, turning wide eyes on him. What pretty eyes she had, the light in them always changing, as her expression varied. “I had guessed as much, by the gleam in the eyes of many of the mamas at the Extons’ ball. Why, I daresay you are richer than Lord Westerlea, and he is a baron, and has an income of quite three thousand a year, or maybe more. Perhaps you are even richer than Mr Kingsley. Oh, I beg your pardon! My unruly tongue! How vulgar to be talking about your wealth in that way.”
“I have never seen the vulgarity of it myself,” he said with a smile. “After all, everyone knows and talks about everyone else’s income, so there is no secret about it. I daresay you have a fair idea of my income already, do you not? It must have been whispered about at the ball.”
“Oh yes, but I did not believe it,” she said. “The sum mentioned was…” And here she lowered her voice, and looked quickly about to be sure they were not overheard. “Twelve thousand a year! It cannot be possible!”
He burst out laughing. “That is a very fair estimate. It might be a little above that now, for I do not spend the half of it, you know, and so the capital in the funds rises every year.”
“Good gracious!” She seemed quite dumbfounded. “Good gracious me! Well, at least I understand why the matchmaking mamas take such an interest in you. How tedious for you it must be, for how will you ever know when anyone likes you for yourself or is merely drawn to the idea of wheedling money out of you?”
“It is not tedious at all, for it leads to all sorts of interesting invitations to this or that house. Usually, there just happens to be a daughter or a niece or a cousin in want of a husband, but one is not actually obliged to marry one of them, after all. While they try their luck to entice me to the altar, there are new acquaintances to be made, entertainment every day and when I get tired of the company, I can move on to the next country estate or town house. Think how boring it would be to stay always at home, and never meet any but the same faces week after week. I am hardly ever in Bath these days.”
“Oh, how sad, to be constantly moving here and there,” she cried. “You poor thing!”
“Do not pity me, Mrs Price, for I enjoy such a life,” he said in surprise, for in his circumstances, pity was an unexpected sentiment to encounter. Yet he wondered just how true his expression of enjoyment was. Even two or three years ago, he had been glad to stay for a month somewhere, and then go home to Bath for a long spell before leaving again. Now he seemed to be forever moving on, and glad of it. How easily he grew bored! And he wondered, for the first time, what it might be like to have a wife to go home to, and a smiling face to greet him there. For a long time, the smiling face had been Gussie’s, but now he was alone and that was no fun at all, no matter how much he tried to convince himself of his own contentment.
Deirdre and Winifred emerged, giggling, with several other girls just then, and the tête-à-tête was broken up, which Leo was rather sorry for. Mrs Price was a more complicated person than he had supposed, and more intriguing than the average lady he set his sights on. Generally they succumbed to his charm at an early stage, and the only question was how many liberties they would permit. A kiss or two in the shrubbery was a pleasant reward for his exertions, and occasionally more than that. His ‘sordid entanglements’, as Kingsley so disparagingly put it. Were they sordid, when they brought a little pleasure to both parties? He took nothing that was not freely offered, after all, and he never touched innocents or the servants, only married women of his own class, who knew perfectly well what they were about. Where was the harm in it? And yet, sometimes he wearied of the chase — the coy looks, the cautious circling round each other, the conversations that held subtly hidden meanings. There was something refreshing in Mrs Price’s openness.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, and before he knew it they were in the carriage heading away from town, past the famous Clunbury waterfall and thence to the Priory, the three women chattering excitedly about their purchases. The twins had acquired a surprising number of packages — ribbons, strips of lace, several sets of buttons — and he had bought some delightful ivory fans for them, not quite matching but close enough, and had tried to buy an ebony one for Mrs Price, but she had steadfastly refused. Indeed, she refused his every offer of a gift, no matter how small. Only when they passed a grocery shop, and she paused to admire the tea caddies in the window, did he have some success.
“Should you like one, Mrs Price? So that you may keep tea in your room?”
And then at last her expression wavered. A lady might not accept gifts of clothing or jewellery from a man not related to her, but tea was another matter. Who could possibly object to a tea caddy? And so a tea caddy was purchased, and a quantity of tea to put inside it, and a small kettle for her fire to heat the water for it. He would have bought her a set of china cups and saucers to drink the tea from, but she demurred, pointing out that the Priory must be well-supplied with such needs already. But he was satisfied, and the tea caddy, a rather beautiful specimen, was much admired as they rode home in the carriage.
Leo leaned back against the squabs and smiled as he listened to the three of them, sharing their happiness while surreptitiously watching Mrs Price’s animated face. Yes, she was definitely intriguing. It was time to start moving more openly in pursuit, and now he had a better idea of how to attract her. She was open and guil
eless herself, and valued such qualities in others. Very well, he could be open, too, and he would begin that very evening. He would sit beside her and talk to her without reserve or artifice, paying her no undue compliments, and treating her just as if she were a friend. Yes, that would do it.
But his plans were immediately thwarted. As soon as she walked into the drawing room and had made her greetings, she settled herself beside Sir Giles Mathom, who must have been sixty if he were a day, and he contrived to hold her attention for the rest of the evening. She really did prefer older men. How galling.
~~~~~
Lucy’s services as chaperon were not needed the next day, for Deirdre and Winifred were invited to spend the day with the Miss Smythe-Hunters, and there were to be charades and acrostics, apparently, under the watchful eye of Mrs Smythe-Hunter. The men were out shooting, so Lucy sat with Mrs Kingsley, reading to her, writing a letter to her dictation and sewing, all the while chattering incessantly. It was not a day for receiving callers so no one came to disturb them.
“Ah, you are such good company, Lucy,” Mrs Kingsley said. “I do get so lonely here sometimes by myself, for the girls cannot always be with me, and when I cannot go out… Well, I must not repine, but it is delightful to have someone to talk to.”
“You do not think I talk too much, Mrs Kingsley?” Lucy said anxiously. “I am a little inclined to rattle on and some people say—”
“I like your rattling on,” Mrs Kingsley said firmly. “It is very soothing. You cannot imagine how dull and quiet it was yesterday when you were out all day. I enjoy your company very much, and I should like you to call me Augusta, if you will. Do you know, I think when this baby is safely born and I can go about again, I shall keep you on as my companion, if you would like that, for I have no close friends here in Shropshire.”
“Oh, indeed I should,” Lucy said, rather flattered. “But you have your sister near by. That must be a great comfort to you, I am sure.”
The Chaperon (Sisters of Woodside Mysteries Book 2) Page 6