Lord Exmouth's Intentions

by Anne Ashley

  'Lavinia hasn't to that extent. Put on a bit of weight in recent years, though, I suppose.' He glanced briefly at his own opulent midriff. 'Still, who hasn't?' He transferred his merry, round eyes, which, Robina was becoming increasingly aware, very little escaped, to the much slimmer form sitting at the head of the table. 'I must say young Phelps came as something of a surprise, also. Never would have supposed that Augusta, never much to look at even in her youth, and the late Lord Phelps could have produced such a handsome fellow.'

  Unlike most of the other young ladies present, Robina had refrained from glancing too often at the head of the table, but did so now. 'He is without doubt the most handsome man I have ever met in my life,' she responded, betraying what she had thought when first setting eyes on the young lord. 'The mere sight of him is enough to send any young maiden's heart a-fluttering. He is still young, of course. Just four-and-twenty, I believe the Dowager said. I think when the time comes for him to marry, there will be no shortage of young ladies wishing to become his wife.'

  'Mmm,' was the only response forthcoming before Sir Percy refreshed himself from the glass at his elbow.

  'You do not agree, sir?'

  'I wonder whether the next Lady Phelps will be entirely of his own choosing, m'dear.'

  Robina was not slow to follow the Baronet's train of thought. Although Lady Phelps had greeted her warmly enough on her arrival, Robina had managed to detect a certain calculating look in the lacklustre eyes, and had wondered whether Lady Phelps's rather lethargic demeanour, like Sir Percy's frequently vague, childlike gaze, might well prove to be quite misleading.

  'Would you be suggesting by any chance that he might be obliged to seek his mama's consent before he places a betrothal ring on any lady's finger?'

  Sir Percy beamed approvingly. 'I suspected you were a clever little puss the very first time I met you,' he disclosed. 'Yes, m'dear, you have the right of it. That is precisely what I do think. I also think that she'll not be in too much of a hurry to give her consent, either.'

  Robina was not granted the opportunity to comment further, even had she wished to do so, for the personable young gentleman seated on her left, a certain Mr Frederick Ainsley, whom she had met for the very first time that evening, claimed her attention.

  It transpired that Mr Ainsley was actively seeking a career in the church. Consequently they had little difficulty in maintaining a conversation, and some little time had elapsed before Robina once again turned to the amiable Baronet to discover him working his way through a large portion of fresh strawberry meringue, liberally covered with large dollops of thick cream.

  'Exmouth appears faintly subdued this evening,' he remarked, surprising her somewhat, and she quite naturally transferred her gaze momentarily to the place at the table where Daniel was seated, only to discover him looking directly back at her. She smiled, and for the first time ever won no answering smile, before he transferred his attention back to the lively damsel on his left.

  'He was fine earlier. Quite jovial, in fact,' she divulged, clearly recalling the cheerful conversation during the short carriage journey. 'I suppose, though, past tragic events are bound to intrude into his thoughts, especially on an occasion such as this, when his wife would undoubtedly have accompanied him. I cannot imagine that one ever fully recovers from such a devastating blow, no matter how hard one might strive to do so.'

  'Perhaps not,' Sir Percy conceded, after finishing the last morsel of delicious meringue on his plate, and with praiseworthy control not replacing it with a further helping. 'Clarissa was certainly a very sociable creature, much more so than Exmouth ever was. She loved to attend balls and parties, whereas Daniel is happiest when at home, looking after his estate.'

  Sir Percy took a moment to fortify himself from his glass before continuing his interesting disclosures. 'Increasingly, as I recall, Clarissa would pay visits to London, staying with friends, or come here to Brighton, leaving Daniel back at Courtney Place to join her later. The marriage on the surface, though, appeared a happy one.'

  Was that an element of doubt she had detected in his voice? Surely not! 'You knew the late Baroness very well, I presume.'

  'Been a friend of the Exmouth family for years, m'dear. Yes, I knew her very well. She was exquisite. A diamond of the first water!' He stared down into the remaining contents of his glass, a slight frown puckering his wispy grey brows. 'Can't help thinking myself, though, that Exmouth married far too young. He'd only just attained the age of three-and-twenty, after all, and although he was always a very level-headed young man, mature beyond his years, there's no trying to get away from the fact that the passage of time brings changes to us all, and not just physically.

  'Clarissa, though, was outstandingly beautiful. No one could disagree with that. Would have succeeded in capturing any young man's heart. But there ain't much else you can do with a beautiful work of art except look arid admire it, if you follow my drift. I don't mean to imply that she was a simpleton,' he added hurriedly, 'far from it, in fact, but her interests were a trifle limited, as you might say. Still,' he shrugged, 'as I've already mentioned, she seemed to suit young Exmouth well enough.

  'Then came the accident,' he continued, while Robina was still digesting what he had already disclosed. 'All very tragic, as you've remarked yourself, m'dear. But something has always troubled me about it all... Something just never seemed quite right to me.'

  Robina's interest was well and truly captured. 'Do you mean you were there at the time and witnessed the tragedy?'

  'Oh, no, no! I was staying close by at the time, though, with a neighbour of Exmouth's. When news reached us, we jumped into the carriage and travelled over to Courtney Place. We learned then that Clarissa had died, and young John Travers, who had been paying a short visit to a maiden aunt residing nearby, had also been very badly injured in the accident. He never regained consciousness, poor fellow... Died the following day.'

  Robina took a sip from her own glass, glancing across at Daniel as she did so. He was thankfully smiling now, that wonderful easy smile which he had so frequently bestowed upon her, while he happily conversed with the lively Lady Smethurst.

  When she had first met him all those weeks ago in London, she had naturally felt saddened to learn about his bereavement, as much as one could experience sadness on hearing about the tragic loss suffered by a virtual stranger. Now, however, he was no longer a stranger, but her dear and wonderful companion whose friendship she had swiftly come to value far more than any other. Now the mere thought that he might be suffering hurt her unbearably too. It was almost a tangible thing, like a knife being thrust deep inside and cruelly twisted.

  'When we arrived at Courtney Place, Daniel himself was not there,' Sir Percy went on to divulge, seemingly locked in the past. 'We were told he could be found at the scene of the accident, so we went along to see if there was anything we could do.' He shook his head sadly. 'Dreadful, it was. Clarissa's own carriage, the one Daniel had bought her the year before for her own private use, twisted and broken, lying at the bottom of the ravine, with the horses, both of which Daniel himself had shot to put an end to their suffering, lying alongside it.'

  'What was it precisely about the accident which puzzled you, Sir Percy?' Robina prompted when he fell silent again.

  'The location, m'dear,' he didn't hesitate to enlighten her. 'It happened on a stretch of road known locally as Snake Pass, for obvious reasons. It's a picturesque little run, but seldom used nowadays, not since the new road was constructed, except by farmers and sightseers, and then only during the summer months. It's virtually impassable during winter, and dangerous too. It follows the line of the hillside, and weaves in and out, hence its name.'

  'Well?' she prompted again, determined to discover precisely what troubled him about the incident.

  'Well, m'dear...I can't help asking myself what an intelligent man like Daniel was doing tooling his wife's carriage along a road he knew to be highly dangerous. Furthermore, I discovered that he had r
eturned from London a matter of only an hour or two before the accident occurred. It just isn't the act of a sensible man to go gadding about, tooling a carriage, when one must surely be quite weary already after travelling from London.

  'And sightseeing...?' he continued, deliberately keeping his voice low so that the conversation could not be overheard. 'Who in his right mind goes gadding about sightseeing on a filthy day in late October? Answer me that if you can! I clearly remember that it had been raining all that morning, and although the afternoon was dry, it was dull, damp and thoroughly dismal. Daniel informed me that it had been young Travers's idea. He had been keen to see something of the county before he returned to his home in Derbyshire. Well, I suppose that's feasible enough,' he conceded. 'But what I cannot swallow is that Daniel accepted the wager in the first place.'

  'Wager?' Robina echoed, not clearly understanding what Sir Percy had meant.

  'Seemingly, m'dear, young Travers suggested that any man who considers himself a capital whip ought to be able to tool a carriage competently in any weather, in any conditions and with reasonable speed. Exmouth certainly doesn't lack skill when it comes to tooling a carriage. You know that from experience yourself.' He shrugged his plump shoulders again. 'I'm not suggesting that he would never accept a wager—gentlemen do from time to time. But he would never have put his horses at risk, let alone his wife, by tooling a vehicle along that particular stretch of road. That to me totally lacks the ring of truth!'

  Indeed it does, Robina silently agreed. Daniel would never do such a foolhardy thing, least of all for a wager. Sir Percy was right—it just didn't ring true somehow.

  Later that night, as she climbed into bed, Robina was to recall again the conversation she had had with Sir Percy over dinner. It had proved most enlightening and had provided much food for serious thought.

  That conversation was by no means the only interesting aspect of what had turned out to be a most enjoyable evening, she reflected, snuggling between the clean sheets. She had very much enjoyed the company of Mr Frederick Ainsley and had danced with him twice during the evening. The only slight disappointment was that Daniel hadn't once offered to lead her out on to the floor. The devastatingly handsome Lord Phelps most certainly had, though, making her feel the envy of every other young female in the room, and the cynosure of all eyes.

  She frowned suddenly, as a thought suddenly occurred to her. The gypsy woman at the fair had predicted that a handsome young man would cross her path in the near future. And one most definitely had! The odd thing was, though, the experience of dancing with Lord Phelps had had little effect upon her, unlike two nights before, when Daniel had expertly guided her about the floor.

  How very odd that was!

  Chapter Five

  The following morning it seemed to Robina that the door-knocker was never still. The first caller to the house was Mr Frederick Ainsley, who came for the sole purpose of inviting her to take a walk with him in the park. Ordinarily she would have been delighted to comply, but as she had already arranged with Daniel to go out with him in the curricle later that morning, a treat she would never willingly forgo unless wholly unavoidable, she politely declined, although she was more than happy to agree to the suggestion that they enjoy a promenade together the following afternoon.

  No sooner had the very amiable Mr Ainsley taken his leave than their hostess of the previous evening, accompanied by her son, arrived at the house. The cruel light of day did little to improve Lady Phelps's world-weary appearance, unlike her sole offspring's. Seating himself beside Robina on the sofa, he resembled some golden Apollo with the sun's rays streaming through the parlour window, enhancing the bright guinea-yellow of his curls.

  Daniel, who had retired to his library directly after breakfast in order to write a long letter in response to the one he had received that morning from his steward, must have detected the sound of the doorknocker this time, for he joined them a few moments later. The conversation quickly turned to the present vogue in paintings, and other works of art, a subject on which, Robina had discovered the night before, the young Lord Phelps proved most knowledgeable. Daniel promptly enquired whether his young visitor would care to accompany him into the library to inspect the fine landscape hanging above the hearth. The invitation was speedily accepted, though whether it was a desire to view the painting which prompted the eager acceptance or Daniel's suggestion that they might partake of something rather stronger than the tea which the butler was at that moment carrying into the room, Robina was not perfectly sure.

  Lady Exmouth was not slow to note the secretive little smile hovering about the sweet mouth of the young woman whom she very soon hoped to call daughter, and couldn't help wondering precisely what was passing through that quick little mind. Her ladyship was nothing if not a realist, and was very well aware that the unexpected arrival of such a handsome young man on the scene might well give rise to some unforeseen problems, so it was with some satisfaction that she noted that her young protégée did not appear in the least downcast at having the young Adonis removed from her sphere.

  Unlike Robina, Lady Phelps watched the gentlemen leave the room and waited for the door to be firmly closed behind them, before turning to her friend and offering her condolences on the death of Daniel's wife. 'Simply a dreadful tragedy. Clarissa was such a beautiful girl! So full of life, as I remember.'

  'Indeed she was,' Lady Exmouth agreed, handing her visitor a filled china cup. 'Daniel, thankfully, is recovering well. His weeks in London did him a great deal of good.'

  Lady Phelps's dull grey eyes flickered momentarily in Robina's direction. 'I'm pleased to hear it. He is still a relatively young man, not yet six-and-thirty, if my memory serves me correctly. He must not be allowed to mourn forever.'

  She turned her eyes once again in Robina's direction, only this time her gaze was considerably more direct. 'And you, my dear, are you enjoying your stay in Brighton?'

  'Very much so, ma'am. Both Lady Exmouth and her son have been so very kind.'

  'Nonsense, child! It's a joy having you with us. Male company is all very well for a time, but one still needs the companionship of one's own sex. Robina is the eldest daughter of Lady Elizabeth Finedon, that was, and William Perceval, Augusta,' Lady Exmouth explained, after she had finished dispensing the tea.

  'Ha, yes! Yes, of course. Your papa is a clergyman, is that not so, my dear?'

  'Yes, ma'am. He is the Vicar of Abbot Quincey.'

  'A worthy gentleman, I'm sure. I remember your mama very well. You have younger brothers and sisters, I presume.'

  'Three sisters.'

  'How very lucky your parents are! I was only blessed with the one child.' She turned to her friend. 'But we have been most fortunate in our children, Lavinia, have we not?'

  'Very. And Simon is such a very handsome young man, Augusta!'

  Lady Phelps permitted herself a thin smile. 'But, alas, never strong.'

  This brought a faint flicker to one corner of the Dowager's mouth, Robina noticed. No doubt her ladyship thought, as she did herself, that Lord Phelps looked the very picture of health, with his fresh complexion, clear, sparkling eyes and shining crop of guinea-gold curls.

  Although the Dowager had certainly not admitted to it in so many words, Robina had gained the distinct impression that the reunion had not turned out to be quite the joyful occasion for which Lady Exmouth had hoped. From odd little snippets she had let fall during the carriage ride home the previous evening, it was quite evident that she considered that her old friend had changed out of all recognition in many ways, and not for the better. Robina remembered too the look she had glimpsed on the Dowager's face when her ladyship and Lady Phelps had been seated together on the sofa, enjoying a dish of tea after the delicious dinner served the previous evening. Robina had thought she had detected a hint of impatience in the Dowager's eyes, and a touch of boredom too.

  There was no hint of boredom now, merely suppressed amusement, as she said, 'All children become ill f
rom time to time. It's unavoidable, Augusta. I'm sure Simon cannot cause you concern, now, however. He looks the very picture of health.'

  'Ah, but looks can be deceptive, my dear. He is nowhere near as robust as he might appear. And he carries a great deal of responsibility on those young shoulders of his. It is no secret that the estate came to him in a sorry state. Thankfully Simon has not inherited his father's weaknesses, and things are much improved.' The woebegone expression was noticeably more marked. 'It is still necessary, however, for Simon to marry well.'

  'In that case, Augusta,' her ladyship returned bluntly, 'I cannot imagine what on earth prompted you to come here to Brighton. The real prizes are to be captured during the London Season.'

  Lady Phelps's trill of laughter sounded more than a little forced. 'Oh, no, my dear! We did not come here with the intention of finding Simon a suitable wife. He is still very young, and has no intention of taking the matrimonial plunge quite yet. Of course, if he did happen to meet the right sort of girl, and fall in love, all well and good, but we really came to enjoy a change of scenery and take advantage of the healthy sea air.'

  This in all probability was quite true, for the widow, at least, looked as though she could do with recouping her strength. The lady might not be in prime physical condition, but Robina didn't suppose for a moment that she lacked ambition, or cunning, come to that, and couldn't help wondering whether Lady Phelps would willingly allow a golden opportunity to ensnare a rich prize for her son to slip through her bony, mercenary fingers, if a suitable heiress did happen to arrive on the scene during their stay in Brighton.

  Whether or not Lord Phelps himself wholeheartedly approved of these plans for his future, Robina had no way of knowing. As the days passed, and she found herself in his company quite frequently, unavoidable in a town such as Brighton, where the. same people were continually invited to the same social events, she swiftly came to the conclusion that he was a remarkably complacent young man, with few ambitions, and few interests outside those of poetry and art.