‘Don’t trouble yourself, Mrs Nash. It is a brief visit only and I shall be leaving directly,’ said Gil.
‘No you won’t, by God!’ cried the squire, good-naturedly. ‘Take another glass of Madeira, Giles. I’m outnumbered by females in this household so sensible conversation from you is always welcome. Help yourself.’ He pushed the decanter towards his guest and said, ‘Now Eugenie, why are you in such a taking? What gossip have you heard which warrants smelling salts?’
Mrs Nash flashed an uneasy glance at Sir Giles. ‘I cannot remember, Henry. It has quite gone out of my mind.’
‘Gone out of your mind?’ repeated the squire, in amazement. ‘Deuce take it, you only mentioned it a moment ago and it was important enough to send you rushing in here. Nothing wrong with your memory usually: you remind me of things often enough.’ He shook his head and winked at Sir Giles before speaking again to his wife in a genial tone, ‘Come, come – you must recall it. Giles will not mind hearing, I’m sure.’
‘Oh dear!’ she said, wringing her hands, ‘I don’t know if—’
Caroline, entering with a satisfied smile on her lips, said, ‘I am pleased Giles is here, Mother. We have permission to tell him after all and I know Father will not breathe a word.’
Alyssa’s story was retold, with Caroline remembering to intersperse it with asides on the perpetrator’s moral corruption and Mrs Nash helpfully providing a running commentary on how her daughter would never be tempted into gambling or, heaven forbid, walking down St James’s dressed as a man. ‘It made my blood run cold to hear of it!’ she declared in conclusion, gripping her handkerchief melodramatically.
However, the news was not received in the manner they expected. Sir Giles remained silent, while the squire roared with laughter and slapped his hand on the desk in delight. ‘By God, Miss Paradise sounds resourceful! Those young bucks would have been astounded to know they had a woman in their midst!’
‘Henry, I am surprised at your attitude!’ declared his spouse, ‘I thought you would be appalled!’
‘Not in the least,’ he said, chuckling. ‘It’s a mild tale compared to some from my youth and there’s no damage done at the end of it. What do you think, Giles? Do you appreciate Miss Paradise’s sense of adventure, or are you shocked?’
Gil had said nothing, his expression remaining inscrutable, but he had cleared his throat and taken a long draught of Madeira when it was revealed Mr Esidarap had attended an orgy.
At the squire’s question, he raised his brows quizzically and said, ‘No, not shocked, but Miss Paradise continues to surprise me. She appears a spirited young woman and I find that refreshing.’ He turned to Caroline and declared softly, ‘So, you have already visited Hawkscote. How odd Miss Paradise confided this at your first meeting – what prompted her to do so?’
‘I cannot imagine. We conversed amicably for several minutes before she spoke of it,’ said Caroline, displeased to hear Alyssa described as refreshing.
‘Oh yes, everything was friendly between us,’ agreed her mother. ‘Caroline commented on their gowns at first – they were very shabby – then Miss Paradise told us that they had been helping their servant! As you may imagine, we gave some morsels of advice.’
Anger was visible on Giles’s features but quickly masked, and he remarked sardonically, ‘I expect that was well received.’
‘She recounted this extraordinary tale afterwards,’ said Caroline. ‘Of course, I do not believe it.’
‘So it’s not true?’ asked the squire, disappointment in his voice.
Caroline sniffed. ‘I don’t think so, but it would hardly have been proper to question her further.’
‘But she was most persuasive, Caroline!’ protested Mrs Nash. ‘Indeed, she said expressly it was your offer to protect her from gossip that encouraged her to tell us!’
‘Ah, I begin to understand,’ said Gil, drily. He leaned back in his chair and stretched both legs out in front of him, crossing one exquisitely booted ankle over the other and pushing his hands into the pockets of his breeches before continuing, ‘Why would you think Miss Paradise needs your assistance, Caroline? Surely that was high-handed?’
Caroline detected the hard edge in his voice and grew indignant. However, she fought against showing her irritation, clasping her hands together instead and remarking calmly, ‘I offered association with my good name to benefit her; you may call that high-handed, I say it is generous. Do you condone her past then?’
‘It is not for me to condone or condemn it. I know nothing of her past, only what I learnt from Tom.’
‘Surely every fibre of your being is revolted by this amoral tale?’
‘Good God, Caroline – stop being so prudish!’ exclaimed her father in exasperation, ‘You make too much of the matter!’
Gil looked anything but revolted. He smiled enigmatically, the laughter lines at the corners of his eyes creasing as he did so. ‘But you have just told me it is not true. I cannot feel revulsion for something that did not happen.’
‘Oh! But you intend to question her?’ cried Caroline, frustrated.
‘You can be certain I will.’
‘That is something at least. I said you would enquire about her past iniquities.’
His smile grew. ‘Did she respond?’
‘She said she hoped you would try,’ said Mrs Nash.
He grinned, murmuring cryptically under his breath, ‘Touché, Alyssa.’
‘I beg your pardon, I did not hear what you said,’ protested Caroline.
‘No matter; rest assured I shall quiz Miss Paradise severely at our next meeting.’
‘Good,’ said Caroline, mollified by the thought of Alyssa receiving a cutting invective.
Squire Nash drained the remnants of his glass and said convivially, ‘Now, Gil, don’t be too hard on the girl! Whether this tale is true or false, she sounds a lively miss and I’d like to meet her. Far too many young women these days with not an ounce of spirit and Miss Paradise appears a mite different.’
Giles smiled at the squire. ‘She is.’
When Gil drove away, he struggled with a desire to turn his carriage towards Hawkscote, but decided against it: the evening was growing late.
Miss Paradise had occupied his thoughts a great deal since they had dined together, although he preferred not to dwell on why he had spoken of his remedy for her obstinacy. Her defence of the workers’ situation had led him to question his own conscience. When had he last visited his labourers? Not for many months, and he felt a pang of guilt at the realization he no longer knew how his employees lived, or how much they were paid individually; he was only aware of wage outgoings as a whole. Alyssa’s comments had made him determined to rectify this. Of course, Caroline would not approve of illiterate labourers receiving any consideration.
Caroline. His dark brows drew together in a frown as he recalled her sadistic pleasure in retelling the story. He knew why – she wanted him to echo her outrage and utterly condemn Alyssa. Well, she had been disappointed; he found the episode highly amusing and succeeded only through iron resolve and a gulp of wine in containing his laughter. He could not recall when he had last felt so animated and entertained, and in that respect, Alyssa was unique. Propriety dictated she should not have invented the anecdote, but he had no doubt it had resulted from provocation. Caroline’s conceit was becoming insufferable.
He grinned as he savoured again the image of Alyssa telling Caroline and her mother Mr Esidarap’s story, and considered his next dinner appointment with Miss Paradise could not come soon enough.
CHAPTER SIX
Piers surveyed the south lawns of Hawkscote and moodily reflected again on his misfortune. He’d had a damnable time of it in London. Once his creditors discovered he was not to receive his uncle’s estate, they had beaten an insistent path to his door and Piers was only too pleased to leave for the country. He was accustomed to being short of ready money, but it was a new and unpleasant experience to be dunned so assiduously by tradesmen,
acquaintances and even friends.
The clock chimed four and he wondered where Alyssa was. Rowberry had asked him to wait in the drawing-room while she completed business with her agent, but that was half an hour ago, and, having arranged to meet James Westwood for dinner, he could not stay long. Still, he wanted to announce his arrival and cast his eye over Hawkscote. It was over a year since he had visited Tom and even then, he had only stayed a week. By the end of that time, his uncle’s comments about his lifestyle had hit their mark and Piers was anxious to leave. At least he and Tom had separated on good terms, for which Piers was grateful – Tom had died before he could see him again.
Piers thought he knew the house and gardens well, but in truth he had never paid attention to the fine detail of either, partly because of his youth and, more recently, believing with nonchalant arrogance they would belong to him one day and he could inspect both at his leisure then. Now the prize had been taken away, he perversely found himself studying the room and its contents with an avaricious gaze. He strolled over to inspect a painting, leaning one hand on the mantelpiece as he did so, and noting with satisfaction it was by Gainsborough.
Piers hoped some plan to win the estate would present itself while he was in Dorset. He had the glimmer of an idea which seemed impetuous even to him but he had not yet discounted it. His musings were brought back to the present abruptly by a slight noise behind him. He jumped and his hand gripped the carved wooden fire surround – someone else was in the room. Impossible! He was alone, no one had entered from the hall, yet the sound had emanated from the other side of the room. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder.
‘Hello.’
Before him, in the middle of the room and having materialized seemingly out of thin air, stood a slim, young woman in a grey silk gown; it was she who had apparently uttered the single word. He blinked, thinking his brain was deceiving him, and her large eyes, a peculiarly beautiful shade of greenish-grey, regarded him steadily as he stood in mute astonishment. Fair hair, dark brows and lashes and a dainty mouth upturned in a smile completed the vision. Piers rubbed his eyes and looked again, half expecting the image to have disappeared. However, still the girl gazed back, her figure infused with an almost ethereal calmness.
Finally, he struggled into speech, and whispered, ‘W-where have you come from?’
‘Did I startle you?’
‘Are you real, or some kind of apparition?’
‘Oh, I’m real enough!’ said Letty, with a laugh.
‘Then how the deuce did you get in here?’ said Piers, exhaling slowly as he began to recover.
Letty indicated the panelling. ‘There’s a secret passage behind there. I was exploring it, came into this room and found you here.’
‘Of course! Devil take it, I thought I was going mad!’ He raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I’d forgotten about that dam— I mean, deuced passageway! Lord, haven’t been through there since I was a boy.’
‘You know of its existence then,’ said Letty, surprised. ‘I suppose I should ask what you are doing here.’
‘Waiting to see Miss Paradise.’
‘Oh, I see. Do you live locally?’
‘No.’
She sat down, looking at him quizzically. ‘I didn’t think I had seen you before.’
‘I have seen you,’ replied Piers, his eyes roaming over her face and recognition dawning.
‘You have? When?’
Placing his hands on the chair in front of him, Piers said, ‘Unless I am very much mistaken, you are Miss Letitia Ravenhill.’
‘You have the advantage of me then, sir, for I cannot guess your identity. Indeed, you might be an escaped convict or some other nefarious creature, here to steal bounty. But, no – you cannot be. You are too well dressed and your expression is too benign for that, although it is sullen. Why do you scowl so?’
‘I am not scowling!’ cried Piers, affronted.
‘Yes, you are. It does not suit you,’ remarked Letty cordially. ‘Why, if only you would remove those furrows from your brow, you could be described as pleasant-looking.’
He gasped. ‘Well, of all the—’
‘You are about to say that my manner is unbecoming, but I still don’t know your name.’
‘I’m Piers Kilworth. I saw you at my aunt’s – that is to say, Alyssa’s mother’s – funeral a few years ago.’
She studied him with interest. ‘So you are Lyssa’s cousin. I don’t remember, but I have heard about you recently.’
‘Nothing good, I’ll warrant,’ he said, his mouth twisting into a sardonic smile as he walked over to sit near Letty. ‘I’m the black sheep of the Paradise family, you know – totally irredeemable.’
‘I’ve heard nothing very bad, Mr Kilworth.’
‘Surely you can call me Piers, in view of our connection through Alyssa?’
She shook her head. ‘That would not be right – I do not know you. Indeed, we should not be alone, but I suppose it must be considered unexceptional as you are Alyssa’s cousin.’
‘But you just said you had heard about me.’
‘From Alyssa, yes, but I will judge you myself now.’
‘What has she told you?’ asked Piers, curious to hear what this forthright girl knew.
‘Do you want the truth?’
‘Of course. After receiving one jolt with your unexpected appearance, I believe I can withstand another,’ he said, ironically.
‘That you were a charming boy, who has grown into a self-indulgent man, wasting his talents on a sybaritic lifestyle.’
Piers gave a chuckle and folded his arms across his chest. He said, mockingly, ‘A sad but correct indictment! I cannot fault Alyssa except in one thing: I have no talents to waste. My only aptitude is for spending money, at which I am exceedingly good.’
‘Have I offended you?’
‘No,’ he said, shrugging.
She looked at him from under her lashes. ‘I-I do not believe you should speak in that way,’ she faltered, ‘saying you have no talent – everyone has, you know.’
He shook his head. ‘Not I. At least, none I have yet discovered – apart from the one I mentioned.’
‘Bah! That is not a talent; any fool can squander money.’
‘So I am a fool then?’
She blushed but tilted her chin defiantly. ‘For getting into debt – yes.’
Regarding her with a fascinated eye, he asked, ‘Are you appointing yourself my moral guardian, Miss Ravenhill?’
‘No. If you are stupid enough to gamble and while away your life to no purpose that is your business.’
Piers stirred uneasily in his chair. With very few words, this doe-eyed slip of a girl had succeeded in making him feel ashamed. He pushed away the thought and said in a cutting voice, ‘Don’t flatter yourself you would have success lecturing me – my uncle and Alyssa chastized me for years, and to no end.’
Letty did not answer but studied his expression and, with a devastating smile, said eventually, ‘Oh dear, it is too bad!’
‘What is?’ he replied, blankly.
‘You are scowling again, Mr Kilworth,’ she declared, shaking her head. ‘An unfortunate habit, far worse than wasting money.’
He fell silent for a long moment, watching her. ‘You’re a curious young woman. You appear from nowhere to speak of morality, and then admonish me for scowling! What am I to make of you?’
‘Whatever you like – I am not your conscience, or your keeper.’ Looking hurriedly away, she smoothed her hand over the skirt of her gown. ‘I-I’m sure Alyssa will be here any moment,’ she said, adding, ‘where are you staying?’
‘With James Westwood and his family, outside Dorchester.’
‘We have heard of the Westwoods; Mrs Nash told us of them.’
‘Mrs Nash? I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting that lady – a gap in my knowledge, for which I apologize.’
‘She is the mother of Caroline Nash, Sir Giles Maxton’s friend, and a grande dame of local society,’
said Letty, with a shudder.
‘Ah! I take it she does not meet with your approval?’
‘She’s an interfering sort, as is her daughter.’
He grinned. ‘I’m sure my cousin dealt with them accordingly.’
‘She did,’ said Letty, with an answering smile.
‘Has Alyssa met Sir Giles yet?’
‘She dined with him last Saturday.’
‘Hmm. And have you seen any of the estate?’ asked Piers.
‘Only a fraction, but Ennis, the land agent, introduced us to the labourers,’ said Letty. ‘Alyssa is with Ennis now – he invited her to attend when the wages are paid. She takes her new responsibilities seriously.’
‘Why must she be so tediously righteous?’ protested Piers with a sigh.
Letty chuckled and said, ‘She wants to learn more about the property she has acquired.’
‘How obliging of you to remind me of my disappointment,’ he muttered.
‘Oh, pray do not take refuge in sulking,’ pleaded Letty, reproachfully. ‘I find it dreadfully lowering to be with a person who is miserable for no good reason. Charles has the same effect on me.’
At this comparison, Piers leapt to his feet and paced about the room, expostulating, ‘Charles! Good God, don’t, I beg of you, draw parallels between me and that prosy bore! We are not at all alike.’
‘Well, you don’t appear to be a prosy bore—’
‘Thank you!’ he threw over his shoulder.
‘—but before he went back to London, Charles cast a damper over everything with his sulks. I would not like to see Alyssa made unhappy again by unwarranted petulance on your part, Mr Kilworth.’
He stopped his pacing and stared. ‘My dear girl, I’ve had every expectation removed by a single sweep of my uncle’s pen – under the circumstances, I hardly think my resentment is unwarranted.’
‘Some initial anger was understandable but you should not still be wallowing in self-pity. Why do you behave like a spoilt child?’
The Paradise Will Page 8