The Proud Viscount

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The Proud Viscount Page 19

by Laura Matthews


  “The poor Browns. How unfair to damage their reputation merely to save mine,” Jane teased. “I can’t think how you will explain that not a stick of furniture was scratched, not a window broken, and yet they left the place in such abominable condition that I had to deny myself the pleasure of accompanying my husband just to care for the place.”

  “You’ve always had such a sharp tongue.” Mabel scowled and reached for one of the scones the Graywood cook did so well. Just as she was about to bite into it, her head came up sharply. “It’s not because of Richard, is it? You haven’t... You didn’t... No purpose would possibly be served by letting Lord Rossmere know of the extent of your contact with Richard.”

  “Good heavens! What do you know of the extent of my contact with Richard?”

  Mabel lifted her shoulders in an exaggeratedly casual movement. “Nothing of significance. I know that you spent a great deal of time with him and that you were far too intelligent to allow things to go, ah, too far.” She considered Jane with worried eyes. “It would be most unwise to allude to Richard at all, my dear girl. It’s bad enough that you are staying here at Graywood. Of course, Rossmere might very well have inherited it himself. You might point that out. Subtly, of course.”

  “Sublety is lost on Rossmere, Aunt Mabel.”

  “Well, when do you expect him back?”

  “I haven’t the first idea. He didn’t mention coming back at all.”

  A little squeak escaped Mabel. “Don’t say such a thing, even in jest. I know what we will do. Yes, yes. The perfect solution. He cannot possibly object and I will arrange everything. What do you say to that?”

  Jane laughed. “You haven’t told me what it is you’re planning, my dear.”

  Mabel clasped her hands tightly over her chest once again. “We’ll invite the family to meet him. In a month’s time. Your brothers and sisters couldn’t arrange to travel here in any less time than that. Oh, they’ll be so delighted to meet your husband. It will make up for their not being at the wedding. And Rossmere would see nothing odd in it. He’ll be expecting to meet Samuel and Geoffrey and Margaret. It’s the perfect solution.”

  It was indeed. Even Jane was impressed with the simplicity and effectiveness of her aunt’s plan. She impulsively hugged the older woman. “A splendid idea. Only poor Nancy will suffer, I fear. So much explaining to do.”

  “You worry about yourself and effecting a reconciliation with your husband, Jane. Nancy will manage, I daresay.”

  Jane forced herself to wait until her aunt had left before sitting down at the writing desk in her room. She penned a letter of exquisite casualness to her husband informing him of the proposed treat. There would be plenty of time for him to get the necessary repairs started at Longborough Park and still return to meet Jane’s siblings and their extensive families. No gentleman would be so rude as to avoid a party given in his honor, would he?

  A carelessly applied drop of hot sealing wax stung her finger. That will teach me to let myself be distracted, she scolded herself as she sucked the injured finger. For a long moment she stared out the window at the cloudless blue sky, wondering whether Rossmere would give her even a passing thought. Perhaps, after all, he would decide that he needed to have very little to do with her, now that Nancy was safe and he had the means to restore his estate.

  But he would want an heir, surely. Having actually gotten married, it seemed only reasonable. Jane was determined that she would not deny him that possibility, despite her feelings on the matter of physical intimacy. How she was going to convey this message, she hadn’t the faintest idea. With a sigh she picked up the letter and headed downstairs to find her sister.

  * * * *

  Jane spent the next few days restlessly pacing about Graywood, wondering how soon she would have an answer to her letter. She could hardly bring herself to sit with Nancy long enough to work the smallest section of embroidery, or remain patiently waiting while the Graywood housekeeper enumerated the failings of scullery maids or footmen. The house, which had seemed to her for so long associated with Richard, now brought forth only memories of Rossmere. Like a ghost, his remembered image startled her at the head of the stairs or lounging on the sofa. How was it possible for him to have so thoroughly permeated the house when he had spent such a short time there?

  Of course it was Jane’s mind that was permeated by the desire for his presence, but she refused to acknowledge this until she rode into Lockley one day and found that he was with her every hoofbeat of the way. She had come abreast of Madeline Fulton’s house before she realized it, and would have passed by had not its air of desolation somehow impressed itself on her distracted mind.

  Every curtain was drawn. The knocker had been removed from the door. No puff of smoke issued from the kitchen chimney. The drooping blooms of the flowers by the gate had not been plucked off for several days. Jane stared at the house for a long moment, uncomprehending. Only gradually was it borne in upon her that Madeline Fulton no longer resided there. A terrible fear seized Jane’s heart. What did it mean? Where had she gone?

  The first, awful thought that came to mind was that Rossmere, in a fit of irritation with his new, uncooperative wife, had taken her away with him. Ridiculous! And yet Jane somehow felt that it was not such an outrageous thought. Madeline had once been his mistress, and it was easy enough for Jane to believe that anyone who had ever been intimate with Stephen would be more than willing to renew the association, to feel the rush of excitement in his arms. The woman’s plans of becoming John Parnham’s wife had been pretty well destroyed. Who was to say that she wouldn’t have grabbed at the opportunity to join Rossmere?

  No, no, no. She was letting her imagination run away with her. Jane pulled her horse and herself up abruptly. Rossmere would never do that. There had to be some other explanation. She switched her gaze to the High Street and motioned to a local boy who stood awaiting the opportunity to hold someone’s horse for a penny. He dashed to her in a knock-kneed hurry, grinning with triumph.

  “Do you know the lady who lived here?” she asked him.

  “Yes, mum. The pretty lady who wore the London bonnets.”

  An apt description of Mrs. Fulton. Jane nodded. “Do you know where she’s gone?”

  “Can’t say. Wagon came for her things two days past, but she’d a’ready left, see. Took her maid with her, and had Mrs. Holter close up the house.”

  “Does Mrs. Holter live close by?”

  “Just the other side of the village. She goes out reg’lar to some of the big houses but maybe not today. Want I should take you there?”

  “Yes, please,” Jane agreed, urging her horse to a trot as the boy scampered ahead down the High Street and then off onto a path beyond. Her thoughts swung wildly back and forth between the various possibilities. At the modest cottage where the boy stopped, she dismounted from her mare and handed the reins to her guide.

  There was no immediate response to her knock, but after a moment she heard a measured tread approaching the whitewashed door. The woman who appeared before her was someone she’d seen in the village from time to time, a sturdy middle-aged widow who wasn’t native to the area. Mrs. Holter dipped a surprised curtsy and wiped her flour-covered hands on her rough cotton apron.

  “Begging your parding, my lady,” she said. “Didn’t know ‘twere you.”

  “Please don’t apologize. It is I who have interrupted you. But if you could spare me a moment, there’s an important matter I wish to discuss with you.

  The woman blinked at her. “With me?”

  “About Mrs. Fulton. I had no idea she’d left. The boy told me you’d closed up the house for her.”

  Mrs. Holter regarded the impishly grinning fellow with a stem eye. “Wouldn’t hurt the lad to be minding his own business, if I say so myself,” she grunted as she held the door wider for Lady Jane. “Best come in. It’s not grand, but it’s clean.”

  Jane followed her into a bright, spartan room and accepted the chair offered her. “I hope
you won’t think my curiosity is idle. It’s a matter of some importance to me and my family where Mrs. Fulton has gone and if she left with a companion."

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you much. I was only hired to see that the place was left in good order and that the removers took only Mrs. Fulton’s belongings. The cottage was let furnished, you understand, and most of the furniture weren’t hers, just certain pieces. She’d already gone when I came in, but her maid had told me when she engaged me that they was leaving the country to settle abroad. Don’t rightly know where. Or if Mrs. Fulton went with someone. I do know that she left almost a week ago, on Friday. It was a sudden decision, the maid said. If I knew more, I’d be happy to tell you, my lady.”

  “Of course. Thank you for your help.” Jane rose, trying to appear perfectly calm and satisfied. Friday was the day after Rossmere had left, but it was the greatest nonsense to suppose there was any connection between the two. Something had happened between John Parnham and Madeline Fulton, almost certainly. Perhaps she’d determined that the situation had changed so unfavorably she wasn’t willing to wait any longer. Her tale about going abroad was pure fantasy. Why would she do such a thing?

  Jane escaped quickly from the house and remounted her horse. As she handed a coin to the boy, the most likely explanation of the circumstances finally won its way through her fears of Rossmere’s involvement. Madeline Fulton and John Parnham had run away together. Her sister’s husband had probably gathered up his mistress and taken her to live abroad. Poor Nancy! What a scandal to rock the neighborhood and destroy any peace that might have been left to her.

  How was she to verify her suspicions? Jane refused to alarm her sister with such news until she was in possession of the facts. She could hardly go to Parnham Hall alone on horseback, though. She’d have to return to Graywood for the carriage and a servant to accompany her. And even then, who was to say she would be able to learn what she wanted? Oh, why had Rossmere gone off and left her to handle these distressing matters by herself?

  Urging her mare into a canter on the other side of the village, Jane rode toward Graywood with a heavy heart.

  At the stables she was informed that her husband had returned. A burst of pleasure flooded her body, coloring her cheeks and giving a slight tremble to her hands. He had not chosen to stay away from her after all!

  Jane hurried into the house, intent on finding him to welcome him home and to impart her surmises. Before she could ask a servant where he was, she caught the sound of his voice in the saloon and pushed open the door.

  He was standing near the window with his back to her, wearing buckskins and a riding jacket. His boots were muddy, as though he’d ridden a great distance. It was his voice that halted her on the threshold.

  “He’s mortgaged the place to the hilt and taken off. With Mrs. Fulton, I fear. It seems likely he’s absconded with your dowry, too, though the fellow at the bank wasn’t willing to divulge that information. I’m terribly sorry, Nancy.” He turned around and caught sight of Jane, beckoning her into the room. “Here’s your sister now. I’m sure you’ll want her company at a moment like this. If any of my actions precipitated this result, I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  Nancy jumped to her feet and extended her hands to him. Her face was pale but her tone urgent. “Pray don’t blame yourself in any way, Rossmere. I’m persuaded that John would have done this, no matter what. You’ve been very good to me and more concerned than I had any right to expect. Your intention was only to protect me."

  Jane watched as Rossmere pressed her sister’s hands and dropped them. He met Jane’s eyes as he walked toward the door, but she was unable to read his mood. When he had come to Willow End a month ago, she had thought how cool his eyes were, and she thought it now. Where was the warmth for her? She extended a hand to him in an effort to stop his progress. “Stephen, I’m so glad you’re back,” she murmured.

  He regarded her hand blankly for a moment. Then, with a swift, stiff movement he carried it to his lips and kissed it, an oddly formal gesture. “Your sister will explain what has happened. She’ll be in need of your comfort.” With which he let go of her hand, bowed slightly, and departed.

  Only Nancy’s need would have kept Jane there at that moment. She wanted to run after him and demand that he speak with her, tell her what had happened, and why he was being so cool toward her. But Nancy stood unhappily in the center of the room, her shoulders slumped, her eyes about to overflow with tears.

  Jane moved quickly to clasp her sister in her arms. “Yes, do cry,” she insisted. “You’ve been too brave all along. It will do you the world of good to let out some of that anguish.”

  The storm of tears that followed would eventually ease Nancy’s distress, Jane realized, though it would be some time before Nancy could view this final indignity as anything other than one more tragedy. She clung to Jane for several minutes, then dashed the tears away with her fingers and said, “You don’t even know what’s happened. I’ll try to tell you.”

  The story unfolded in bits and pieces. From her experiences of the afternoon and the few words she’d caught as she entered the room, Jane could guess the rest, but she let Nancy talk, revealing Rossmere’s role in the saga. Jane hadn’t known that her husband had sent Parnham a letter before he left, nor that he’d bought a source of information on the household staff at Parnham Hall. Apparently his informant had sent a message alarming enough to bring him back to discover what Nancy’s husband was up to.

  Jane listened to her sister carefully, absorbing the import of Parnham’s treachery: he had taken every shilling onto which he could lay his hands by fair means or foul, and had eloped with Madeline Fulton to the Continent. There would be no more possibility of danger to Nancy, but there would be a lifetime of loneliness and social awkwardness for her.

  “And my son,” she said sadly, shaking her head. “To grow up under the cloud of such a disgrace. It seems so wretchedly unfair. I don’t mind so much for myself, you know, but he will surely suffer.”

  “Our family will see that no stigma attaches to you,” Jane assured her. “Little William will grow up knowing you as his mother, and instead of referring to a father, he will refer to his grandfather. Papa’s being an earl will surely help. Things will work out. You’ll see. Don’t distress yourself on William’s account. Probably he’ll be spoiled beyond anything by his aunts and uncles and cousins just because he has this social handicap. He’ll be everyone’s favorite.”

  “I wish you may be right.” Nancy smoothed the crumpled skirt of her gown with restless fingers. “Will you excuse me? It’s my time to be with William, and then I should very much like to lie down for a spell.” As she rose to leave, she turned to Jane with a smile. “You’re very lucky to have a man like Rossmere, my dear. He’s tremendously concerned about what has happened, afraid that he may have precipitated John’s flight. Ridiculous, of course, but very dear of him, don’t you think?”

  “Yes. He’s a very conscientious man. Too conscientious, perhaps.”

  Chapter 20

  Rossmere had managed not to be alone with his wife for most of the day. After dinner, however, when Nancy excused herself to go to her room, he found himself with Jane in the small saloon. He knew she’d tried to seek him out several times, but he had slipped away or ignored the light tap on his door. Now she regarded him with a puzzled expression, her hands folded demurely in her lap, her cheeks rather paler than usual.

  “I didn’t know you’d found out anything about Parnham’s past,” she said. “Had you some particular reason for not telling me?”

  The days were slightly cooler now. Rossmere closed a window and stood with his back to the dusky light outside. His voice sounded clipped even to his own ears. “Surely there was no need to tell you. I was perfectly capable of handling the matter myself.” He flipped a watch out of his pocket to check the time, for all the world as though he had some important engagement. “I had no way of knowing, of course, that your sister’s husband woul
d bolt. My threat was merely to keep him from trying to claim either his son or his wife.”

  “I understand that,” she said with her infinite patience. “What I want to learn is why you thought it necessary to exclude me from the process.”

  His eyes widened. “It never occurred to me to include you.” This was not precisely true, but it would serve to demonstrate his point. “I’m not in the habit of consulting anyone before I act.”

  “I see. You’re not in the habit of being married, either, my dear Rossmere. When something so nearly concerns me and my family, I would expect that you would keep me informed of where matters stood.”

  “Would you?” He raised his brows rather higher than usual to indicate his surprise. “But then, you haven’t been married before, either, and have no experience of a husband’s prerogatives. I have no need, and no intention, of consulting you on such matters as I can handle myself.”

  “This is one of the difficulties of marrying in haste. One hadn’t the chance to discuss such issues.” Jane rose from her chair to pace agitatedly around the room. When she came to a stop, only a few feet from him, her cheeks had regained color, bright spots high on her cheekbones. “It won’t do, you know. I’m not a child to be ignored or dismissed. This is all a consequence of my insistence on a satisfactory physical relationship, isn’t it?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Nancy said it would hurt your manly pride. I scoffed at that.” She turned away from him and walked to the walnut side table, where she picked up a black porcelain Chinese vase. As she turned it in her hands, she continued to speak. “If the cook had prepared a roast that was not to your liking, you would let it be known what your taste was. Otherwise, how would he know? If I were dissatisfied with the downstairs maid’s work, you would expect me to make my objections known. You would consider it quite ridiculous of me to do otherwise. So why is it that you refuse to even hear what I have to say about the process of our joining?”

 

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