Lord Trilby’s head whipped up, an arrested expression on his face. “What was that, Weston?”
Mr. Weston was thrown off-balance. “Why . . . why, I was but thinking aloud, my lord.”
“And an inspired thought it was, Weston!” Dawning light entered the earl’s eyes. “I have only to present a fiancée to the grandduchess and she will have no choice but to take her rabbit back to the duchy with her.”
Mr. Weston stared at his employer in confusion. He faltered. “Your intended, my lord? But. . . you do not have an intended.”
The earl seemed not to hear him. “I do not know why I did not think of it before. It is the answer, Weston, I am certain of it. I have only to do the thing right, and with any luck at all the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits can be cajoled out of this rut of wishing to marry me off to some chit or other.”
“But, my lord! You cannot be serious. Surely I need not recall to you that you have not got an intended and, what’s more, you do not want one,” Mr. Weston said.
“Quite right, Weston.” There was a bright gleam in the earl’s eyes. He sat down at his desk and pulled a sheet of paper to him. “But the first matter can be easily remedied, I fancy.”
Mr. Weston was thoroughly bewildered. “But you said not a moment since that you do not wish to wed, my lord.’’
“Nor do I. But what is that to the purpose?” Lord Trilby asked, dipping a pen in the inkwell. He began writing rapidly on the sheet of paper. “I shall call on the lady immediately to see whether I am able to arrange it.”
“My lord, you cannot mean to offer for a lady under false pretenses!” Mr. Weston exclaimed, horrified.
“No such thing. I hope I have a better notion of what is due my honor than that. No, I mean to cast myself upon the lady’s mercy and enlist her help in putting into motion a grand deception,” Lord Trilby said, still writing.
Mr. Weston’s facile brain instantly grasped the truth. “Lady Caroline!”
Lord Trilby glanced up at his secretary. “Weston, your percipience fills me with admiration. Yes, I hope to enlist Lady Caroline in this dark hour to enter into my little plot.’’
“My lord, pray reconsider!” Mr. Weston was beside himself with alarm. “You cannot possibly ask such a thing of Lady Caroline. ‘Tis rank folly!”
“Do not look so appalled, Weston. Lady Caroline knows me better than anyone. She will not allow me to get in over my head, I assure you. She don’t want to many me any more than I wish to marry her. We’ll do the thing between us, I am certain,” Lord Trilby said. He put aside his pen and perused the closely written sheet. Satisfied, he sanded it and handed the missive to his secretary, who had been rendered utterly speechless. “These are my instructions while I am gone, Weston. You must cancel my engagements for the next several days, of course. I shall keep you apprised of my progress with Lady Caroline, so that you will know what to do when the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits and the rabbity chit arrive.”
As the earl was speaking, he had risen from his desk and sauntered across the study toward the door. A queer sound was uttered behind him, and he paused to glance back at his secretary, who stood statue-like with half-parted lips and a shocked expression. “Well, Weston?”
Mr. Weston appeared to gather himself. He held up the sheet that had been entrusted to him. The paper shook in his hand. “My lord, what exactly am I to tell the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits?”
“As little as possible,” Lord Trilby said easily. “Now I’m off. Convey my regards to my great-aunt whenever she and her entourage should arrive. If you have not had word from me before my great-aunt descends upon the house, put her grace off as best you can until I am able to communicate with you in regard to my success with Lady Caroline.”
Before he went out the door, Lord Trilby regarded his secretary’s odd color and starting eyes. “You look damned queer, man. Weston, perhaps you should have a physician in to see you.” He left the study and the door closed gently behind him.
For several moments Mr. Weston stared at the spot vacated by his lordship. Then he roused himself with a shake. He went with stilted steps to the sideboard to pour himself a small amount of brandy from the decanter. He regarded the level in the glass and recklessly splashed in another measure. It was an unusual liberty, but he felt this one instance could be fully justified. Before touching the glass to his lips, he said morosely, “Disaster shall come of it, I shouldn’t wonder.”
He tossed back the brandy in a single swallow. Unaccustomed as he was to such reckless action, he immediately fell into a whooping, coughing fit. When he at last recovered, his eyes continued to water. Somehow the sheet of instructions had fluttered to the carpet, and it lay there in mute testimony of his failure in his duty, for he had been unable to sway the Earl of Walmesley from his mad course.
The Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits was undoubtedly already on the way to England. Brooding upon that, Mr. Weston felt strong pity for himself.
Naturally, Lord Trilby was to be pitied for the horrible situation in which he found himself, but, Mr. Weston thought, the earl would not be the one who must greet the formidable grandduchess upon her arrival. Mr. Weston had had occasion to meet the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits once before, and the event was most vividly imprinted upon his memory. His ears still rang with her grace’s strongly worded opinion regarding the qualifications required in one so privileged as to be the Earl of Walmesley’s secretary.
It occurred to Mr. Weston that perhaps the individual to be most pitied was the lady who was expected to provide a shield for the Earl of Walmesley.
Chapter Three
The object of Mr. Weston’s pity, Lady Caroline Eddington, was at that moment herself wondering at the vagaries of life.
The morning had begun auspiciously enough, having dawned bright and clear after the previous night’s thunderstorm. Lady Caroline had perforce risen early and in possession of a mild mood that perfectly matched the splendor of the day. She had gone downstairs to enjoy a solitary breakfast, a common occurrence, since only she and her maternal aunt presently shared the house, and Mrs. Burlington preferred to take her daily chocolate and toast in bed.
Lady Caroline skimmed the morning papers for the war news over her coffee, as was her habit, before she went to the study to begin the day’s labors on the stack of paperwork that awaited her attention. Halfway through the morning, the groundskeeper requested a few moments’ speech with her ladyship to discuss a small estate problem. The groundskeeper was gratified by Lady Caroline’s attentive and knowledgeable questions and eventually he went away satisfied that the matter would be adequately resolved. The housekeeper was waiting to bring in the household accounts for the upcoming quarter, and she and Lady Caroline dealt with them together to their mutual satisfaction.
When luncheon was announced, Lady Caroline felt the personal gratification common to all who have accomplished much. Lady Caroline smiled as she rose from the desk. “You come in good time, Simpson. I am famished. There is nothing so like worthwhile employment to make one appreciate a good luncheon.”
“It has been a productive morning, then, my lady,” Simpson said, making of it a statement.
“Indeed it has. I shall finish up the most pressing items this afternoon, I feel certain. His lordship shall have nothing to complain of upon his return,” Lady Caroline said as she allowed herself to be ushered out of the study.
“His lordship naturally placed every confidence in you, my lady,” Simpson said. There was the faintest note of censure in his tone.
Lady Caroline turned to the butler with a laughing look in her eyes. She was well aware of the butler’s disapproval of the arrangement that existed between herself and her brother. Lady Caroline’s brother, Lord Eddington, now the Earl of Berwicke, had always preferred the amusements and pleasures of London over the estate in Sussex and its attendant responsibilities. Since the death of their father, the old earl, Lord Eddington’s tastes had not changed and he had been content enough to leave the running o
f the estate in his sister’s capable hands.
“Indeed, and as always. But we shall not speak of that, if you please,” she said in gentle reproof. “Has my aunt come downstairs?”
“Yes, my lady.” The butler’s face became, if possible, a shade more expressionless. He coughed delicately. “It is my understanding that Mrs. Burlington spent an indifferent night.”
Outside the closed door to the dining room, Lady Caroline paused. She threw the butler a glance in which dismay mingled with resignation. “I see. My aunt’s indifferent nights have become all too frequent of late. Unfortunately, one cannot cry craven, can one?” It was at that moment that she wondered about the vagaries of life and how one was unwillingly compelled to see them through.
She sighed and nodded to the butler. “Thank you, Simpson.” The butler executed the briefest of bows as he opened the door for her. Lady Caroline entered the dining room with a firm step. Her countenance was serene and an amiable smile curved her lips. However, the expression in her deep blue eyes, though friendly enough, was cool. “Good afternoon, Amaris. It is a lovely day, is it not? A pity that it is still so damp, or otherwise one might have enjoyed a leisurely walk after luncheon,” she said cheerfully as she seated herself across the table from her maternal aunt.
Mrs. Burlington eyed her niece with disapprobation. “That is so like you, Lady Caroline. You blithely assume that everyone about you holds the same opinion. Walk, indeed! Only peasants resort to such unhealthy exercise. What is wrong with ordering out the carriage, pray?”
Lady Caroline quietly indicated to the footman that he might serve her before she replied, saying evenly, “The carriage is naturally at your disposal if you should wish it, Amaris.”
“Well, I do not wish it! Pray do not put words into my mouth, my lady. It is a vastly unbecoming trait to presume to do so,” Mrs. Burlington said waspishly. She irritablly waved away the footman’s attempts to serve her some barley soup. “Take away that ghastly concoction at once. I shall not touch it. Really, I do not know what the cook is about these days. One would expect to be better served at table in a house of this size. But one must not refine too much on it, for not every detail can be expected to be attended to with equal care whilst under your management, Lady Caroline.” The last was said with a glittering glance and tight half-smile turned in her niece’s direction.
Lady Caroline pretended not to hear the vitriol in her aunt’s voice. With every appearance of continued amiability, she said, “I suppose at times it must seem so. However, I find the work both satisfying and stimulating.”
Mrs. Burlington gave an angry titter. “Yes, so you have told me on numerous occasions. It is unnatural. A lady should never concern herself with figures and encumbrances and whatever else it is that you do when closed up in that stuffy study. Those matters are for the gentlemen to see to, my dear niece. They are far better equipped to it.”
Uppermost in Lady Caroline’s mind was the recollection that her aunt’s late and unlamented husband had managed to squander his own and his wife’s fortunes before he had died of a heart attack, very appropriately, at the gaming table. Ironically enough, his last hand had been a winning one, and if he had had time to play it, he might have recouped enough of his more recent losses that he could have left at least a small jointure for his wife.
As it was, Mrs. Burlington had found herself destitute without even a roof over her head, for the house was discovered to have been hopelessly mortgaged, and she had been forced to accept her sister’s offer of a permanent home at Berwicke Keep.
The Countess of Berwicke, Lady Caroline’s mother, had been a compassionate woman who seldom saw anything but the best in everyone. She had been universally liked by her acquaintances and her employees. If her ladyship had had any glaring fault, it was that she could at times deliberately blind herself to the most unfortunate circumstances.
Mrs. Burlington was from the first a difficult addition to the family circle, and matters had not improved with the years. The earl had learned not to disparage his sister-in-law to his wife, for if he ever did so, it was so upsetting to her ladyship’s illusion of serendipity that she became miserable for days. Mrs. Burlington quickly seized the advantages inherent in such lack of criticism to usurp her sister’s authority whenever it best suited her.
When the countess died, Lady Caroline was barely sixteen. It would have been natural for a young girl to turn to her nearest female relation for comfort over the loss of her gentle mother and her guidance into full womanhood, but such had not happened. Lady Caroline, who had inherited both her father’s percipience and his practicality, had years before taken her maternal aunt’s measure and had found her wanting. It was a measure of her judgment that she had never addressed Mrs. Burlington as “Aunt,” for that would have connoted an affection between them that had never existed. Lady Caroline knew that it had greatly enraged Mrs. Burlington to be balked in her attempts to take on the role of mentor. Mrs. Burlington’s unfailing attitude toward her ever since had been one of censure and thinly veiled dislike. However, on those days preceded by Mrs. Burlington’s indifferent nights, her aunt habitually abandoned all but the most entrenched civilities. Indeed, Mrs. Burlington’s insistence to address Lady Caroline with exaggerated formality but pointed up the lady’s deliberate rancor.
As Lady Caroline coolly looked over at her aunt, she wondered why she even bothered to keep up the civilities with one who was so determined to wound her. Years before, she had determined to do so because she had not wished to burden her father with the open warfare that would have erupted between them. It had become habit thereafter, especially when her brother had come into the title and had proved to be much like their mother in his inability to deal with strife. But there were now just herself and the dreadful old woman in the house.
The thought spurred her own controlled temper to shake experimentally at its bonds. Her voice was deceptively calm. “And what would you have me do, Amaris? Shall I allow the estate to go to rack and ruin for want of proper attention? I do not think my brother would thank me for such careless administration of my responsibilities when he has entrusted me to handle all matters relating to the estate in his absence.”
“Of course not! That is not at all what I meant. How you do take one up, Lady Caroline!” Mrs. Burlington said. “I merely wish to point out that it is most unbecoming in you not to at least consult with a knowledgeable gentleman before making any decision. That, surely, would be most unexceptionable even to one of your headstrong temperament.”
Lady Caroline lifted shapely brows. “I apprehend that we at last approach the point of this exercise. Pray do tell me the name of this knowledgeable gentleman, Amaris. Or might I guess?” Her voice had become faintly mocking.
The footmen serving at table exchanged quick startled glances. Careful to remain as silent and unobtrusive as possible, they removed the soup bowls and began to serve the main course. They were unwilling to leave the dining room when such an unusual exchange was shaping up.
Mrs. Burlington stared at her niece through narrowed eyes. She could scarcely contain her annoyance. This niece of hers had always had the trick of setting her down without seeming to make the least push to do so. If she had been the girl’s mother, she thought, then perhaps matters would have gone a bit differently through the years.
“Lord Hathaway is eminently suited to take such weighty matters upon his shoulders,” Mrs. Burlington said.
“I do not doubt it in the least. However, I too am eminently suited to the task. My brother would not have left me in complete charge if that were not the case. So pray let us have no more about this, Amaris. I shall not welcome it, you see.” Lady Caroline’s words were gently said, but there was an underlying steel in her voice that would brook no argument. The expression in her eyes was as cool and as steadfast as her voice.
Lady Caroline signaled the footmen that they could begin clearing. Neither she nor her aunt had done justice to the excellent repast, but she found that her
original appetite had dwindled with the unpleasant exchange. “We shall have coffee in the drawing room, I think.” She turned to her aunt. “Shall we go to the drawing room, Amaris?”
If Lady Caroline hoped that her aunt would be angered to the point of refusing to remain in her company, she was disappointed. Mrs. Burlington acquiesced to the suggestion with a tight nod and also rose from the table.
In the drawing room the two ladies settled in their usual places. Lady Caroline seated herself in a wing chair situated so as to take full advantage of the sunlight glancing in the tall window. Beside the chair was a basket holding skeins of colorful threads and yarns and the embroidery pieces on which she was currently at work. She reached down to pick up the waiting embroidery hoop and began plying her needle.
Mrs. Burlington took the settee. She picked up the latest Lady’s Magazine and flipped through the pages discontentedly while the butler set the tray on the low table that separated her seat from Lady Caroline’s.
When the butler had left, closing the door softly behind him, Mrs. Burlington returned to the attack. “My dear niece, I do think that you should give heed to this much of what I have to say, at least. Lord Hathaway is a most worthy gentleman and he is absolutely devoted to you. You should be more encouraging of him.”
Lady Caroline threw a glance at her aunt. This, too, was an old argument, and she discovered that she had little patience for it that day. It seemed that after she had permitted herself the unusual luxury of snapping back at her aunt, it was now more difficult to control her temper. Setting aside her embroidery and picking up the coffeepot, she said shortly, “Lord Hathaway is all that you say, Amaris. He is also a dull dog.”
“I do not find his lordship so,” Mrs. Burlington said. “In any event, you are too nice in your requirements, my dear niece. The relationship between a gentleman and his lady is not one of spirited conversation or feeling, I assure you.’’
Gayle Buck Page 2