Tamasine did not trouble to answer, her attention once more taken up by the young man at her side. But Simeon Roy’s expressive countenance turned to the dowager, comprehension in his gaze.
“Oh, she can write, ma’am. After a fashion. Can you not, my pet?” His glance caressed the child before returning to Sybilla. “Tamasine uses pictures rather than letters. She is quite an artist, and her illustrations are perfectly to be understood, by those who best know her mind.”
Secretly impressed by the young man’s swift understanding and his open acknowledgement of Tamasine’s difficulties, Ottilia was yet unable to count him other than a rascal. She might be tempted to discount Miss Ingleby’s intense disapprobation, had she not also Cuffy’s testimony. She probed gently.
“Was it Tamasine who told you of Sir Joslin’s death then, Mr Roy?”
“Not at all, ma’am. I have lately been staying with my cousin Ruth, and I was there when Lavinia’s express arrived.”
“You mean Mrs Delabole?”
“Precisely, ma’am. I confess my natural grief at the news was tempered by the thought of being able to see Tamasine again. But Ruth’s shock was so severe, I felt it a mercy I happened to be there.”
Ottilia threw her immediate suspicions into the open. “Are you in the habit of visiting Mrs Delabole?”
The young man spread his hands, looking rueful. “Sadly, no. And I will admit that poor Ruth was by no means delighted, but she took pity on me nevertheless.”
“You were not welcome? Now why, I wonder, Mr Roy?”
His brows rose. “Why, I should have thought that was obvious. Ruth was a fond sister and she knew of my falling out with Cousin Matt. Still I hoped to persuade Ruth to intercede with Joslin on my behalf.”
“Joslin would not let Simeon come,” put in Tamasine. “I wanted him to come.”
Simeon spread his hands again. “You see? The moment I knew Tamasine was in England, I wrote to Joslin for permission to visit her.”
“Which he refused?” queried the dowager.
The young man turned to Sybilla, his smile wry. “Old prejudices are hard to break, ma’am. I was but a youth when I left Barbados, you must know. Yet I failed to persuade Joslin of my change of heart.”
“Dear me, Mr Roy,” said Ottilia lightly, “you assume knowledge on our part which we do not have. We had heard from Tamasine that you were forbidden the house by Sir Joslin, but we are ignorant of the reason.”
Simeon gave vent to a laugh in which surprise and ruefulness were neatly blended. “Oh, dear, and I had so nearly confessed my sins. You must forgive me. The peccadilloes of one’s youth are apt to haunt, and it is hard to remember anyone involved with the family could be ignorant of them.”
“Well, we are wholly ignorant,” said Sybilla flatly. “And I daresay it will suit us all better if we were to remain so.”
“Oh, believe me, ma’am, I had far rather nothing of the matter was spoken of outside the family. Only my little Tam here is nothing if not confiding, and since you, Lady Fan, have befriended her, it did not seem to me possible that she had not acquainted you with all.”
Tamasine had been all the while an interested spectator of the discussion, but at this, she turned her blinding smile upon Ottilia. “I should like you to know all my secrets.”
“Well, that is extremely generous of you, Tamasine, but I think we must allow your cousin his privacy.” Without giving either a chance to reply, she turned the subject. “Is Mrs Delabole then with you? Did you escort her here?”
For the first time, she noted a faint look of chagrin creep into the fellow’s eyes. Had he wanted the conversation to continue upon the topic of his misdeeds? He recovered himself swiftly, throwing in another one of those deprecating smiles.
“I offered to do so, but Ruth would not hear of it. Realising she might be here some time, she had perforce to make arrangements for her absence at home. She has a numerous family, you must know, and it is not a simple matter for her to drop everything at a moment’s notice.”
“So you came on ahead?” Sybilla surmised.
Once again, Simeon Roy cast an eye verging almost on the avuncular upon the young girl at his side. “I rushed to the rescue in the shortest possible order.”
It occurred to Ottilia to wonder whether Mrs Delabole’s rejection of his escort had rather concerned itself with Sir Joslin’s prohibition of Simeon’s presence at Willow Court. Had the young man come here against her wishes? Had he seized his chance, knowing she was preoccupied, and made haste to plant himself in the place ahead of her arrival?
Before she could think how to introduce a question of this nature, the front door bell was heard to peal and Tamasine jumped up, running to the French windows.
“Simeon, come quick! Before Lavinia catches us.”
But he remained just where he was. “If you suppose I am afraid of Lavinia, my dear little Tam, you much mistake the matter. Come back and sit down.”
Tamasine did no such thing, instead thrusting open the door and looking out into the garden, as if she thought to see her duenna approaching the house by that way.
Simeon gestured in her direction, casting a deprecating glance at the two ladies and lowering his voice. “Lord knows what fears have been inculcated in the child’s diseased mind.”
This was the first time any member of the Willow Court household had spoken overtly of Tamasine’s derangement. Miss Ingleby had ceased pretence, but such remarks as she let fall were veiled. Ottilia, who had been scathing of the pretence, found herself subject to a bewildering change of face when confronted by this blatant admission. She was spared having to answer by Sybilla’s testy demand.
“Pray will you at least induce the child to close the door, sir, before we all freeze to death?”
Uttering an apology as spurious, Ottilia suspected, as his earlier sincerity, Mr Roy leapt to his feet and went after his cousin. He had just succeeded in persuading her to re-enter the room and close the door when Biddy entered to announce the visitor.
“Miss Ingleby.”
The companion swept into the room, her eyes flashing at the couple by the French windows. She did not even trouble to utter a word of greeting or apology to the inmates of the Dower House, but scarcely waited for the door to close behind the maid before discharging her spleen.
“So, you are come, are you? How dare you flout Joslin’s expressed wish? Lord knows I did not expect to return from the inquest only to find you encouraging the child to disobedience. I told you to stay in your room, Tamasine.”
“I won’t,” retorted the child wildly. “You can’t make me.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Miss Ingleby started towards her, but Simeon Roy stepped forward to intercept her.
“Let her alone, Lavinia. She wanted to introduce me to her friend, Lady Fan, that is all. She has come to no harm.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that, Simeon Roy,” began Miss Ingleby furiously.
She was interrupted. Sybilla rose with a swish of her skirts, her tone biting. “That will do!” All three countenances, redolent with surprise, turned towards her. “I have no knowledge of the manners obtaining in Barbados, I am happy to say,” continued the dowager on an acid note, “but in England, it is not the custom to indulge in a quarrel in your neighbour’s parlour.” Her irate gaze turned upon the hapless duenna. “In particular, before you have even had the grace to acknowledge the presence of your hostess.”
Miss Ingleby flushed, but her tone remained belligerent. “In that case, ma’am, perhaps you might with advantage teach your daughter-in-law to refrain from unwarranted interference in your neighbour’s lives.”
Sybilla drew herself up. “Are you telling me how to run my family?”
“Why not? Lady Francis makes no bones about telling me how to run mine.”
Simeon Roy threw up his hands. “Ladies! Ladies! Pray do not come to blows, for I will take the fault to myself.”
The dowager left off glaring at th
e duenna and swept the young man a scorching glance. But before she could unleash her fury, he had stepped up to Miss Ingleby, catching at her unquiet hands.
“Lavinia, I confess myself wholly at fault. Forgive me!”
The woman snatched her fingers from his grasp. “Don’t touch me! You need not think to cozen me, Simeon. Those days are long gone.”
“But not forgotten, my dear.”
He had the temerity to laugh — a foolhardy proceeding, in Ottilia’s opinion. So indeed it proved, for Miss Ingleby’s eyes narrowed to slits of rage and her voice came low and vibrant.
“Would you taunt me thus? After what you attempted? Oh, for all your protestations, you have changed not one iota, Simeon Roy. You will not win this prize, I promise you.”
With which, she stormed past him, seized Tamasine’s wrist and dragged her to the French windows, utterly ignoring the girl’s shrieking protests. Being all too well acquainted with Miss Ingleby’s moods, Ottilia refrained from interfering as the woman turned the handle and wrenched open the door. But she was surprised that Simeon Roy did nothing, merely watching the two women, a look on his face of complete unconcern, even amusement.
The door closed behind them, cutting down the noise. As it faded, Sybilla turned her irate glance on the young man. “Well, sir?”
Simeon swung round, his features instantly taking on that deprecating look at which he appeared to be well practised. “My dear ma’am, I must beg to offer you my abject apologies. On behalf of Lavinia, more nearly than my poor little cousin. She cannot help herself. But Lavinia, I fear, is sorely beset. She was over-fond of Joslin.”
“How do you know that, Mr Roy?” demanded Ottilia at once, at last rising from where she had remained an interested spectator of this revealing scene. “You have not been in Barbados for some little time, I gather.”
Simeon’s confidence did not falter. “My dear Lady Fan, I thought I had made it abundantly clear that Tamasine had kept me informed of all that went on within the family.”
“And you believed her without question? Despite knowing that her view of events must necessarily be wholly subjective?”
He sighed. “You are right, of course. Tamasine sees everything in life as it concerns herself. But we were so very close, you see. I have learned to read between the lines.”
“However that may be, sir,” said Sybilla, once more entering the lists and by no means mollified, “I must request you not to bring the girl here again. I will not be subjected to rudeness a second time.”
Mr Roy bowed. “Your objection is perfectly understandable, ma’am. I will endeavour to keep Tamasine from disturbing you.”
“If she should wish for me, Mr Roy,” Ottilia put in quickly, having no desire to be excluded, “be so kind as to send to me, and I will come over to Willow Court.”
He raised his brows. “My dear ma’am, do you think that advisable? With Lavinia in her present humour, there is no saying what may happen. I am in dread of the moment when she discovers that our little Tam has engaged herself to your grandson, Lady Polbrook.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sybilla’s features whitened. “What? It’s a lie!”
Ottilia was in no less shock than her mother-in-law, but she took this up at once. “Do you know this for a fact, Mr Roy?”
“Since Lord Bennifield himself confirmed it to me a little before we came across, I have no reason to doubt it.”
With which, he bowed in a perfunctory fashion and took himself off through the door to the garden, so swiftly that Ottilia at once decided he had made the announcement deliberately in order to throw the cat among the pigeons. The match was evidently not to Simeon Roy’s liking. It did not take much imagination to work out why.
She moved to ensure the door was latched, hearing Sybilla break out behind her.
“Is there no end to the foolishness of the men in my family? Like father, like son! What in heaven’s name should take the boy to engage himself to that lunatic? He is plainly besotted!”
“Yes, but I doubt that was his reason,” Ottilia cut in before the dowager could get into her stride.
“Reason? I am minded to think him as mad as the girl!”
Ottilia came back into the room. “Calm yourself, ma’am, I beg of you. I shall count myself astonished if anything comes of this betrothal.”
“It most certainly will not, if I have anything to say to it.”
“I don’t doubt you have everything to say to it,” said Ottilia with a flash of merriment. Her mother-in-law’s irate gaze turned upon her and she quickly held up her hands in a gesture of peace. “No, don’t rip up at me, Sybilla. Well as I understand your feelings, we will achieve nothing by your flying into a fury.”
The black eyes caught fire and for a moment Ottilia thought she had gone too far. Then the dowager let out a sigh and sank back among the cushions, momentarily closing her eyes. Ottilia waited in silence. At length, her mother-in-law spoke again, her tone grudging, if more moderate.
“You are right as usual. I must strive, I suppose, not to visit my dissatisfaction with Randal upon his son.”
“No, indeed, tempting though it may be,” Ottilia agreed with a twinkle.
Sybilla sighed again, and noting the taut curl of her own fingers, fastidiously straightened them. Then she looked across at Ottilia. “Why do you think Giles did it, if not because he is in love with the wench?”
“I don’t think he did it at all. I imagine it was all Tamasine’s doing.”
“Well, I can believe her capable of any impropriety, but do you suppose she asked him to marry her?”
“Not at all. I expect she merely stated that they were to be married. It’s what she did the morning of her guardian’s death. And, given Giles’s refusal to recognise her shortcomings, I dare say he was motivated by chivalry.”
“To accept her, you mean?”
“Or merely to accept a fait accompli.”
The dowager gave her a derisive look. “And nothing at all to do with the fact that he has fooled himself into thinking he is head over ears in love, I dare say.”
“That too, of course.” Ottilia perched on the arm of her mother-in-law’s chair and took her hand. “Don’t look so distressed, ma’am. If Giles is not already regretting the event, I give you leave to call me a dunderhead. Oh, he won’t admit it,” she added, seeing a hopeful look creeping into Sybilla’s features. “I’m sure he feels bound by whatever foolish promise he may have made and will not readily be encouraged to relinquish it. And if you value my advice —”
“Do you think me such a simpleton that I would make the attempt? It would be useless.”
“Besides setting up his back. Not,” Ottilia added hastily, “that you care for that.”
Sybilla let out a groan. “Yes, but I do. One should not play favourites, but the boy was ever the delight of my life. And he knows it. I hate being at outs with him.”
“Well, you need not be.”
“How can I help it?” She released her fingers from Ottilia’s grasp and sat up with sudden energy. “Ring the bell, Ottilia. I’m going to send for Giles and demand the truth.”
Ottilia rose and went across to the bell-pull as requested, but nonetheless entered a mild protest. “Do you think that’s wise?”
Her mother-in-law’s eyes were snapping again. “I will not take that young man’s word for it. I know the type. A mischief-maker if ever I saw one.”
“Even so, would he say Giles had confirmed it, if he had not?”
“I intend to find out,” declared Sybilla, as the door opened. “If my grandson has indeed become engaged to Tamasine Roy, he will not dare deny it to me.”
About to speak, Ottilia hesitated as a shocked look came into the dowager’s face. She was staring at the door. Ottilia turned quickly and her veins turned to ice. Lady Phoebe Graveney was standing in the doorway, and it was evident from her expression that she had heard the fatal words.
Numbness settled over Phoebe’s mind. She ought to feel s
hocked, betrayed, but the single thought repeating through her head was that she had lost. Only half aware, she allowed herself to be ushered to the sofa, her fingers caught in Lady Polbrook’s fierce clutch.
“Ring the bell, Ottilia. She needs a drop of something to revive her.”
In a daze, Phoebe watched Lady Francis — or no, Lady Fan was her preference, was it not? — move to the bell-pull and tug upon it. She caught the woman’s eye as she returned towards the sofa and uttered the first words that came into her head.
“I only came to see if you had news from the inquest. Even though Robert was presiding, Papa would not permit me to attend.”
Lady Polbrook let out a snort. “So I should hope.”
Phoebe shifted her gaze to the elderly lady’s face. “But I wanted to. I need to know.”
“As do we all.”
“I shall be obliged to ask Robert myself,” Phoebe said, thinking aloud.
“Mr Delaney, you mean? I doubt that will prove necessary, my dear.”
Lady Fan’s calm tones were balm to Phoebe’s ears. She seemed to have a knack of maintaining just the right manner to forestall any form of hysteria. Phoebe drew a painful breath and let it out again.
“I would very much like to scream.”
“Pray don’t,” said the dowager. “We have had tantrums enough this day.”
“I won’t. I have been brought up to think badly of any such public display.”
Lady Fan let out a peculiarly musical laugh. “The perfect marchioness.”
“Oh, pray don’t.” A twinge at her heart caused Phoebe to throw her hands over her face.
“Ottilia, have you no tact?”
“My dear Sybilla, this is hardly the moment for tact.”
“How can you say so, you dreadful girl? Here is poor Phoebe —” She broke off as the younger maid entered the room.
“My lady?”
“Brandy, Biddy. Lady Phoebe has sustained a shock.”
This penetrated Phoebe’s foggy mind. “Oh, no, pray. I so much dislike it.”
“Port, then. Biddy, bring the port and three glasses.”
The Opium Purge (Lady Fan Mystery Book 3) Page 22