His mind ran over the conditions of the legacy accruing if his daughter married Lord Silverfield within the twelvemonth, and rubbed his hands together gloatingly: no escape for his Lordship there! It was marry or lose all!
As though he could read his mind, his prospective son-in-law scowled horribly. Indeed, he had not missed the acquisitive gleam in Sir James’s eyes, and began to wonder at his wisdom in coming here.
Even to save his beloved home, Lepe Abbey, he did not know if he could bring himself to marry Louisa, and last night he had very nearly bolted back to London.
Only one thing had induced him to present himself this morning, and that was a lively curiosity to see if the charming voice of the girl he had talked to last night belonged to a face as pretty as its owner had led him to expect!
He had not expected, when he set out from Town, that the news of his Uncle’s will would have so soon reached Sir James, and he had had the expectation of being able to look over his prospective bride without any expectations being raised as to his intentions. But last night’s conversation had changed all that: still, having come all this way, he decided to go through with the visit.
Sir James, apart from his expression, seemed to be behaving as if he were unaware of the circumstances; afraid of frightening him off, probably! He relaxed his wary guard a little. He would be as easy as he knew how, keep the conversation away from dangerous waters, and then leave as soon as civility let him.
“I must send for my wife. She will be quite delighted to see you again!” enthused Sir James. “Louisa, too! You remember my little Louisa, of course?”
“I believe I have met her in Town,” he replied casually. “But did you not have another daughter? I thought .... But no, how stupid of me! It is your sister who lives with you, isn’t it?”
“Er . . . yes. Yes. There is Anastasia – my half-sister, you know. But she is barely out of the schoolroom,” said the Baronet reluctantly.
How on earth, he wondered, did he know about Anastasia? She had never been to Town; had not, indeed, travelled further than the nearest small town for a day’s shopping. Indeed, it was the merest chance that had brought Sir Montagu Morley to stay with them before he formally proposed for Louisa’s hand, and had instead seen Anastasia and changed his mind.
“It would give me the greatest pleasure to renew my acquaintance with Lady Derwent and your charming daughter, and to take this opportunity of meeting your sister,” said Lord Silverfield firmly.
“Of course, of course!” said Sir James assuming a jovial air, and pulled the bell rope for a servant to take the message.
He fervently hoped that it would be found that Anastasia had gone out or was otherwise unavailable, for it had not escaped even a fond father’s notice that beside Anastasia’s lively face Louisa’s blonde prettiness faded into insipidity.
This hope was not destined to be gratified, for, after heartily embarrassing and infuriating his noble visitor for upwards of half-an-hour with hints and innuendoes, his wife and both girls entered the room.
Lady Derwent greeted her guest with the cold and haughty civility habitual with her.
“Ah! I knew you would be delighted, my dear!” enthused Sir James, seeming to see nothing amiss in his lady’s cold manner. “Lord Silverfield is the nephew of my old friend Cosmo Vernon. . . . but I have told you that before, have I not?”
“Yes indeed,” She turned a cold, fish-like pale orb upon the young man. “We were so sorry to hear of his sad demise -you must feel it extremely!”
Since he had both disliked and despised his Uncle he could think of no proper return to this, but Lady Derwent was leading forth her daughter to meet him, and seemed not to notice the omission.
“Here is my daughter, Louisa, whom I think you will be pleased to meet again — though she is no stranger to you, I know, for you must have been forever seeing each other at all the fashionable squeezes last season, I’ll vow!”
Looking at Louisa, Lord Silverfield could see what had caused the delay in the ladies’ appearance. She had changed her toilette for one of a magnificence highly unsuited both to the plumpness of her figure and the informality of her surroundings.
She simpered coyly, as he took her hand and responded with automatic civility to her gushing greetings.
Piqued, she saw that his eyes were fixed upon her Aunt, who had hung back upon their entering the room, and a sulky expression marred her face.
He turned to Sir James, one black eyebrow raised in enquiry.
“Ah ..... my half-sister, Anastasia!” was muttered ungraciously.
Lord Silverfield smiled down at her wickedly as he took her hand. “Enchanté to meet you, Miss Derwent!”
Her large, grey-green eyes twinkled back at him engagingly, and a dimple hovered at the corner of her mouth.
Her hair, of an unusual russet colour, was simply dressed, and she wore a plain cambric round-gown, but her slender figure had a natural elegance denied to Louisa in her flounced and striped silk dress and fluttering ribbons.
“How nice to meet you, Sir! We have heard so much about you!” she said demurely.
He gave a snort of laughter, but hastened to turn it into a fit of coughing. Sir James and Lady Derwent regarded him suspiciously.
Louisa battled in, all smiles and coquettishness, to wrest away her prize.
“Lord Silverfield! Do tell us of what is going on in Town. La! I feel as if I have been rusticating here for ever, yet it cannot be long since I had the pleasure of standing up with you at Lady Wintersham’s ball!”
With the most obvious connivance of her parents she succeeded in drawing him away to the window seat, Lady Derwent sending Anastasia to fetch her shawl, and Sir James recommending him to admire the view from the window.
Having captured him, Louisa chattered on flirtatiously, seemingly undeterred by his brusque rejoinders and sardonic expression.
Anastasia returned and handed a handsome Indian shawl to Lady Derwent, then obediently sat down beside her upon a new and hideous sofa whose lion’s feet peeped incongruously from behind the ladies’ skirts.
Louisa’s gush of small-talk flagged at last on seeing him so abstracted, and she looked at him in baffled resentment. After all, she knew the contents of the will, and that he stood to gain a good deal of money if he married her. So why was he not paying more attention to her?
Her Papa might say, dampeningly, that he might prefer being penniless to marriage, but she thought that nonsensical. Besides, lots of people had said that she was very pretty! He should be glad that he did not have to marry an antique, like that Miss Mildmay — twenty-six if she was a day, and never received an offer — to gain his inheritance.
She looked sideways at him from under her long lashes and shivered a little. His hard, reckless face looked older than she knew him to be, the brows drawn together into a frown, and the gaze resting on...... Yes, Anastasia again!
‘Damn Anastasia!’ she said to herself, wishing her at perdition. But she schooled her face into a demure expression. “This is the first time you have met my Aunt, is it not?”
She succeeded in regaining his attention.
“Your Aunt?”
“Anastasia.”
“Oh!” He looked taken aback. “Of course – I had forgotten.....”
She gave a tinkling, empty laugh. “Yes, it does seem absurd to have an Aunt younger than oneself!”
“I suppose it does. But it must be pleasant for you to have the company of someone young enough to enter into your interests.” He gave his full attention, for the first time, to the vapid, sulky little face.
“Company. .! Hardly that, for I was being presented while Anastasia was still in the schoolroom...” She stopped suddenly, aware that she was being infelicitous about her age.
“Your Aunt is not yet out?”
“No, not yet. She is but seventeen, and still very hoydenish and wild. My poor Mama despairs of ever turning her out as a young lady!” She laughed musically.
The
subject of this discussion happened to glance up at this moment. She was too far away to hear what they were saying, but not to miss the spiteful glare in Louisa’s eyes, or Lord Silverfield’s expression of bored disgust.
His expression changed to one of curious intentness as their eyes met and held. She found that she could not look away from that dark, searching gaze, and her colour rose brightly, to ebb away again leaving her pale and trembling.
The exchange seemed to last forever, but when he turned away and she looked about her nervously no one else appeared to have noticed anything amiss. She clasped her shaking fingers in her lap.
Lord Silverfield, his attention reclaimed by Louisa, was curt and abstracted. He had wanted to see what Anastasia was like, and he had ......... As to Louisa, having been in her company a scant half-hour he was heartily sick of her, and did not see how he could ever bring himself to marry her.
A sudden trapped, claustrophobic feeling swept over him, and with it an almost overpowering desire to get out of the room.
Louisa’s ceaseless, proprietorial conversation, the complacent glances of her parents, and even more the sharp contrast between the two girls, became more than he could take. His departure was abrupt even by his standards.
He sprang to his feet, causing Louisa to break off affrontedly in mid-sentence. “You must excuse me. Miss Derwent! I have just recollected a very important engagement, and must leave immediately; I had not noticed how late it was!”
He both looked and sounded a trifle wild. Sir James stared at him in some amazement. “Engagement? I had not realised that you were acquainted with anyone else in this part of the country?”
His Lordship ignored this questioning, and pulled himself together enough to make his farewells, extricating himself from an invitation to dine with them that evening on the grounds of yet another mysterious engagement.
Lady Derwent opened her lips to enquire into the nature of these previous engagements, and then looking into his face thought better of it.
“I must ask you to excuse me. I hope you will all soon be fixed in London again very shortly?” His bow included them all in the question.
Sir James said that yes, they would be in London within the fortnight. He could not afford to give Louisa another season; but then, if she stood to marry Lord Silverfield, he could not afford not to!
Anastasia remained forgotten upon the sofa. There would be no place for her in the London party, she knew that!
Numbly she watched Lord Silverfield make his adieux with such extreme speed that his tall figure was out of the room before the words were fairly out of his mouth.
“Astounding behaviour!” exclaimed Lady Derwent, as the door closed with a resounding thud behind him.
A look of consternation crossed her face. “There is no madness in that family, is there?” she demanded.
Chapter Three
Sir James stared at her in astonishment. “Madness! Of course there is no madness! The boy is a trifle wild, that is all -nothing marriage won’t cure.”
“But will he propose for Louisa?” asked Lady Derwent. “I was persuaded that that was why he had come — his particularity in seeking us out so quickly! Why, I had Louisa change into her best gown immediately we heard that he was come, besides having her hair re-dressed! And now he is gone off again! It is too bad!”
“But Mama, he said that he hoped he would see us in London soon! And he must marry me in the end, must he not?”
“What it is,” said Sir James in thoughtful tones, “Is that he knows he has a twelve-month before he must marry, and will leave the matter to the last minute before he does so! But I take it as a good sign that he came all the way here to see us. I am sure he was quite unaware that we knew the reason for his sudden interest in us, for I ventured to drop a hint or two and he remained quite unconscious of my meaning.”
“Perhaps you are right,” agreed his wife. “It would not do to try and rush him into it, for I can see that he is a very headstrong young man; but perhaps it would be as well if we went up to Town as soon as may be. There is no telling but what he may take a fancy to Louisa if he but sees her often enough.”
“He has seen me, often! And today he seemed to be more interested in Anastasia than in me!”
“Nonsense!” pronounced her Mama. “He showed no more than common politeness to one whom he must consider the veriest schoolroom chit!” But she was uneasily aware that her daughter, despite the possession of golden hair, blue eyes and regular features, was much less taking than Anastasia. She could not understand it – the girl was after all too thin, and overly tall, besides having hair of an appallingly red shade which she could only consider a frankly vulgar colour!
“Speaking of Anastasia. . .” said Sir James, and cleared his throat as one about to impart portentous news.
Anastasia, who had ignored the conversation going on about her, and was sitting in a sort of trance, now looked up.
“I have here a message from Sir Montagu,” he tapped the paper in his hand, “Which came this morning, informing me that he will be arriving here tomorrow to stay for a day or two. He will, of course, be wishing to hear Anastasia’s answer to his flattering proposal.”
They all looked at Anastasia, who had whitened at this news.
“Come now, Anastasia,” said Lady Derwent bracingly, “If you mean to be reasonable and accept his offer, you may come to London with us, and be married there.”
“But you know I do not wish ...... I will not marry Sir Montagu! He is .... I cannot like him – in fact, I dislike him intensely!”
“Anastasia!” exclaimed her sister-in-law wrathfully, “How can you be so stupid and ungrateful? Cannot like him, indeed! I am sure he is the sort of man any girl might be thankful to marry. Such manners and polish – and such a graceful dancer! — and he is very comfortably off, now that he has inherited his cousin’s estate. I am sure you are a very lucky girl!”
“Well, I do not want such luck! Let him make some other girl undyingly grateful for the honour of marrying him! Besides, I know that he wanted to marry Louisa first, and she did not mind, so why must I have him?”
Sir James sighed in exasperation at her stupidity. “Do not be so stupid! I would not have objected to the match then, but it is not to be considered when she has the opportunity to become Lady Silverfield.”
“But what if he does not come up to scratch? Ought you not to keep Sir Montagu in reserve?”
“Do not let me hear you saying such vulgarities!” exclaimed Lady Derwent wrathfully. “Your upbringing has left much to be desired! Besides, once Sir Montagu had met you nothing would do for him but that Sir James should consent to a match between you. I cannot at all imagine why, but there it is, it is you he wished to marry.”
Louisa glared at her Aunt jealously.
“Sir Montagu has made up his mind to settle in life, having inherited so unexpectedly, and knows what will suit him best,” said Sir James, austerely. “Once a man of mature years has made up his mind to marry, it is not to be supposed that he will wait about forever until the first object of his affections decides whether to accept him or not! No, Anastasia, he will be off and marry someone else if you persist in refusing him!”
“What a constant nature you ascribe to your sex!” said Anastasia sarcastically. “Well I shall refuse him, and keep on refusing him, so he is at perfect liberty to go off and bestow his affections upon whoever he wishes!”
“You are talking wildly,” reproved Lady Derwent coldly. “And you will do as you are told to do. The announcement can be made on our return to Town.”
“And if I do not?”
Louisa looked at her in astonishment. To tell the truth, she was considerably more attracted by the urbane Sir Montagu than by Lord Silverfield.
“Why – nothing!” said Lady Derwent. “We will not be able to afford to bring you out and give you a season, of course, so you will stay here. ..... In a year or two you may go to stay occasionally with Louisa when she is Lady Silver
field - an unmarried female must always be useful to her relatives.”
This unalluring sketch of her future prospects depressed Anastasia immeasurably. “But I have some money of my own – I have my Portion. Why can I not use that to have a London season?”
“Oh, it would be quite impossible! It is secured to you to provide for your marriage.”
“But if I do not marry Sir Montagu, it does not seem to me as if I will ever have another chance of marriage!”
“That is entirely up to you,” said Lady Derwent coldly.
There was a short silence. Lady Derwent saw that her words had struck home, and was not unhopeful of the eventual outcome.
“Sir Montagu feels that, due to your shyness, you may be more prepared to answer him favourably if you are allowed to speak to him privately,” said Sir James blandly. “After due consideration I have taken the unusual step of giving him permission to pay his addresses to you alone. We will, of course, be in the next room.”
“Speak to him privately? Oh no!” said Anastasia, appalled. “You cannot have considered. ...”
“He has my permission,” said Sir James weightily. “There can be no impropriety in the circumstances when Lady Derwent and I are in the next room. There is no more to be said.”
She subsided into depressed silence. The idea of being alone with her suitor, even within screaming distance of the entire household, was not one that appealed to her in the slightest. On the very first occasion on which she had encountered him alone on the stairs he had attempted to kiss her, and only the timely appearance of a servant had made her escape possible. She shuddered slightly at the memory.
Sir James, evidently feeling that he had had the last word in the discussion, turned back to the subject of Lord Silverfield, and no-one noticed when Anastasia slipped out of the room.
She wandered dismally about the house, alternately panic-stricken at the thought of tomorrow’s tête-à-tête with Sir Montagu, and then lapsing into a daydream of that long, strange exchange of glances with Lord Silverfield.
The Other Miss Derwent Page 2