Lady of Lincoln

by Ann Barker

  The doctor fairly beamed, for this was a more encouraging answer than he had expected. ‘Of course, of course,’ he replied. ‘I leave here a hopeful man, Miss Whittaker.’ He took her hand and kissed it in quite the grand manner. Emily, remembering a very different touch, barely repressed a shudder.

  The doctor left the house with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. He looked in on baby Fanshawe – who had still not been given a name – and pronounced her to be in excellent health. Mr Fanshawe acted like the perfect gentleman, but Boyle suspected that he was holding down a good deal of grief by sheer will power. He came away rather concerned, but even this occurrence could not dampen his spirits completely. So cheerful did he look that Sir Gareth, happening to meet him on his way back from an errand in Bailgate, asked him the cause of his good humour.

  Well aware that Sir Gareth was something of a ladies’ man, the doctor was very pleased to enlighten him. ‘I have this morning been visiting Miss Whittaker, and so welcoming was she that I made so bold as to propose marriage to her.’

  The smile on the baronet’s face became rather fixed and he stiffened a little. ‘From your demeanour, do I take it that congratulations are in order?’ he asked.

  The doctor looked a little crestfallen for a moment or two, but he soon cheered up again. ‘Not precisely,’ he replied. ‘At least, she asked for time to think about the matter, so she has not exactly said no. How long do you think I ought to leave it before I go back to her?’

  Repressing the urge to say at least forty years, Sir Gareth answered ‘I would wait for a couple of days. Ladies do not like to be rushed.’

  ‘A couple of days,’ echoed the doctor. ‘Yes, I shall do as you say, sir. I should not want her to make an unconsidered decision.’ With that he walked on, completely unaware of the turmoil that he had stirred up in the other man’s breast.

  For his part, the baronet felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. Emily’s attraction for him had been growing with every passing day, but when he had embraced her in the cathedral and she had poured out her grief onto his chest it had been as if he had reached a point from which there was no turning back.

  Unlike Emily, he had loved before. He had also enjoyed casual connections with ladies of like mind. No other woman, however, had touched his feelings at such a deep level. He had always thought her pretty, although her attractiveness was often concealed by ill-chosen clothes. More significantly, however, he admired her courage in the face of situations whose sordidness would cause most society women to cringe in horror. He also admired her energy, seen for example in her climbing of the great tower. He liked the way that she talked to his nephews, and the way in which she had extended a hand of friendship to his sister. That little choking sound that she made when she thought she ought not to laugh captivated him completely.

  Yet for all her courage and energy, at times she seemed very much alone. At those times he was conscious of a longing to draw her close and protect her. In short, almost without his knowing it, she had come to fill his mind and his heart. Almost as soon as he had arrived in Lincoln, Aurelia had told him that he ought to marry. How strange to think that he was now contemplating marriage in good and earnest.

  But now, although he had been so sure that she had a preference for him, it seemed that she was considering a proposal from Dr Boyle. Why? Did she believe that his attentions were only flirting, and that they would never come to anything? If so, then he must go round and persuade her that she was mistaken in this belief.

  He went immediately to the Whittakers’ house, but was told that Miss Whittaker was not receiving. This was according to Emily’s instructions.

  ‘But miss …’ Mary had protested.

  ‘Those are my express wishes,’ Emily had replied, more imperiously than was her wont. ‘Kindly understand that I am not at home to Sir Gareth either today, or at any other time.’

  ‘Miss …’ Mary ventured.

  ‘He is a rake and a libertine, Mary,’ Emily answered, trying to conceal the shake in her voice. ‘Such men are not welcome here.’

  Mary had rather expected to find that the elegant baronet had grown horns the next time she opened the door, but to her surprise he looked much as usual.

  ‘Are you able to tell me when she will be receiving?’ he asked Mary, with his attractive smile.

  Unable to bring herself to repeat her mistress’s exact words, Mary said, ‘I couldn’t say, sir.’

  ‘Then I will come back later.’

  He began to walk away from the house, but as he did so, something made him turn and look up. For an instant, he saw Emily standing at one of the upstairs windows, before she stepped back out of his line of vision. He frowned, paused, and nearly turned back. Then, reflecting that he could hardly burst into someone’s house uninvited, he walked back slowly to his sister’s house. After all, the room in which she had been standing was probably her grandfather’s. Perhaps she had been busy attending to him. But then, if she had been doing that, why had she been standing at the window?

  *

  ‘Aurelia, I have decided to ask Emily Whittaker to marry me,’ the baronet announced the following morning.

  ‘Gareth, how wonderful!’ his sister exclaimed, hurrying to embrace him. ‘I thought that you were looking particularly well turned-out today.’

  The baronet had indeed almost surpassed his usual elegance. His coat fitted his broad shoulders superbly, his breeches were without a crease and his top boots were polished until they shone like glass.

  ‘Do you think she’ll have me?’ he asked her, his diffident tone quite at variance with his usual assured manner.

  ‘Have you?’ his sister echoed. ‘Of course she will. What woman would not?’

  ‘But then, you are not entirely unbiased, dear Sister.’

  ‘No, maybe not,’ Mrs Trimmer agreed. ‘But I have observed her and I would say that she had a fondness for you.’

  ‘And so would I have said so, coxcomb that I am,’ he replied. ‘But yesterday, she would not receive me. Furthermore, she had only just heard a proposal of marriage from Dr Stye.’

  ‘You are not going to tell me that she accepted him!’

  ‘No, but she did not refuse him. She wanted to think about the matter.’

  ‘There you are then,’ his sister answered. ‘Probably she could not face anyone else after such a momentous occasion. She needed a time of quiet reflection.’

  Yes, but …’ He paused. ‘Aurelia, why would a woman say that she needed to think about it, unless there was in her mind the very real possibility that she might accept?’

  ‘Gareth, my dear, she knows you are rich and titled. You have come here for a time, and flirted with her, along with Mrs Hughes and other women. Why should she think that you are serious? She may simply be trying not to burn all her boats. Go and call on her again; and Gareth?’

  ‘Yes, Aurelia?’

  ‘Make your feelings clear. If you love her, tell her so.’

  A short time later, Sir Gareth called again at the Whittakers’ house, and was again told by an embarrassed Mary that Miss Whittaker would not receive him. This time, Gareth was prepared to question the girl further.

  ‘Do you mean that she is not in, or that she is not receiving anyone, or that she will not receive me in particular?’ he asked. Mary flushed, and shuffled her feet. ‘I see,’ he said, colouring as well. ‘I suppose it would be too much trouble for her to come and tell me why?’

  ‘You have been told that you are not welcome here,’ Emily said, from a step halfway up the flight. She stood very still, her hands clasped tightly together to prevent them from trembling. ‘I do not understand why I should be importuned in my own house.’

  ‘And I do not understand what I have done to merit such treatment,’ he answered her, his face set. ‘If I have done anything to offend you, I wish you would tell me what it is, then I would be able to beg your pardon.’

  ‘My pardon?’ Emily exclaimed, descending the rest of the stair
s. Mary bobbed a curtsy and disappeared into the back of the house. ‘I am not the one that you have offended against.’

  ‘I can assure you that when I visited your grandfather, I behaved with the greatest respect,’ he told her, pushing the front door to behind him.

  ‘Nor have you hurt my grandfather,’ Emily said. Then, straightening her spine, she said, ‘I am speaking of Nathalie. I know her story.’

  He lost a little colour. ‘I see,’ he said, and the tiny hope that she had been keeping in her heart shrivelled and died. ‘I suppose that you would not be prepared to allow me to explain the part I played?’

  ‘What explanation could there possibly be that could excuse what you did?’ Emily demanded.

  ‘I only did what any other man in my position would have done,’ he told her.

  ‘Oh, disgusting!’ she exclaimed, almost shuddering with revulsion.

  ‘Disgusting?’ he repeated, mystified.

  ‘Dr Boyle would not have done it,’ she said swiftly. He gave a short contemptuous laugh. ‘Yes, I know that you choose to laugh at his name,’ she retorted, ‘but he has proved himself to be a greater gentleman than you, for at least I can trust him.’

  ‘And when have I proved myself unworthy of your trust?’ he demanded.

  ‘When I discovered that you had played a part in that disgraceful affair and presumably never intended to tell me about it.’

  He paused for a moment. ‘You are right,’ he conceded. ‘I probably would not have told you. But that was because—’

  ‘Say no more, sir,’ she interrupted. ‘You have proved yourself to be a scoundrel, a libertine and a liar. To think that I …’ She drew a ragged breath. ‘Kindly be gone, sir,’ she said. ‘We have nothing more to say to each other.’

  ‘I see that you have constituted yourself as judge and jury and have already pronounced me guilty,’ declared the baronet bitterly. ‘I came here today to tell you that I love you and to ask you to marry me, but clearly such a proposal from a man so depraved as myself would only be disgusting to you. Have no fear that I will importune you again. It only remains before I leave for me to give you a taste of the libertine that you think I am.’

  Before she could realize what he was about he had pulled her into his arms, lowered his head and kissed her full on her mouth. The kisses that he had bestowed upon her before had been gentle and respectful, and they had stirred her blood. This embrace was powerful and insulting, and it had her shaking from head to toe. When at last he released her, she fell back against the banisters, her hair disarranged, her lips swollen from his kisses.

  ‘God keep you, madam,’ he said savagely, ‘and give you joy of Dr Pimple.’

  He threw the door open and strode away and Emily, tears filling her eyes stared after him and thought to herself, God help me, I love him still.

  A voice interrupted her reverie. ‘Emily, my dear, I am surprised and disappointed. How can you fill a gentleman’s house with uproar in this unseemly way? My sainted Patrick, had he been alive, would never have done such a thing.’

  Emily turned to face her father and for the first time he saw her with her hair all anyhow, her face flushed, her eyes filled with tears. ‘What do you know?’ she demanded. ‘Patrick wanted to be a soldier.’

  ‘No; he was to enter the church,’ her father replied, frowning slightly.

  ‘He never wanted to enter the church,’ Emily replied, her voice breaking. ‘He only said that he would in order to please you. You have twisted and turned his memory until it bears no resemblance to the boy that he really was. And you have been letting me twist and turn my life ever since as I vainly tried to make up to you for the fact that your darling son had gone. But you don’t know the real me any more than you knew the real him. Now my heart is breaking and all that you can say is, don’t make a noise!’

  She turned from him and ran up the stairs, oblivious to the sound of his voice repeatedly calling after her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ‘Tomorrow? But you cannot possibly leave tomorrow!’ exclaimed Mrs Trimmer, looking at her brother in consternation. She had known that something had gone terribly wrong, of course, when she had seen him returning from Emily Whittaker’s house with a face like thunder. She had gone downstairs to find out what had happened, only to find that he had walked out of the Minster Yard to work off his anger elsewhere. Mrs Hughes and her cousin had popped in a short time later, and had lingered for far longer than was socially acceptable, but still he had not returned. It was only after Aurelia and her husband had retired for the night that she heard her brother coming in, using the key that she had given him for his use whilst he was staying with them. Now this morning, he had suddenly announced his intention of leaving.

  ‘Why not?’ Sir Gareth asked her. ‘There is nothing to keep me here.’ His tone was light, but his expression was bleak.

  ‘I take it that …’ She allowed her voice to tail away.

  ‘Then you take it correctly,’ he told her. ‘My morals are disgusting to Miss Whittaker and she wants nothing more to do with me.’

  ‘But how could she say such a thing?’ demanded Aurelia, indignant on behalf of her adored elder brother. ‘You have always acted the gentleman towards her, have you not?’

  ‘Of course,’ he replied, then flushed a little as he recalled his behaviour just before he had left her house.

  ‘Then what possible reason could she have?’

  ‘She has misunderstood some of my actions, and has judged me on the basis of them,’ he answered.

  ‘But surely—’

  He interrupted her. ‘Oh have done, Aurelia,’ he said wearily. ‘There’s nothing more to be said.’

  But his sister thought that perhaps there was, and later that morning, when her brother had gone out for a last walk with her husband, she put on her bonnet and went round to see Emily.

  It was with a certain amount of embarrassment that Emily welcomed her in. When she had dismissed the baronet so summarily, she had forgotten that she would have to continue to live in close proximity to his sister and her family. Now she realized to her great dismay that she was in danger of losing Mrs Trimmer’s friendship. The problem was that she could not explain her reasons for refusing him, because the secret of the fathering of Nathalie’s baby was not hers to share.

  For her part, Aurelia had come fully prepared to do battle on her brother’s behalf. He might be a suave man of the world, but Emily had hurt him, and she should be made to answer for it. As soon as she saw Emily, however, she could see that Gareth was not the only sufferer. She looked pale; there was no sparkle in her, and there were dark circles under her eyes as if she had not slept.

  As soon as they were inside the drawing-room, therefore, Aurelia said, ‘What a pair you are! I do not know who looks the more dreadful, you or Gareth.’

  At once, from merely looking defeated, Emily looked stricken. ‘Does he?’ she whispered.

  ‘He looks shocking. The awful thing is that he set out so hopefully yesterday, and, forgive me, Emily, but from my observations of your conduct towards him, it seemed to me that he had reason to feel that way.’ Seeing Emily looking a little shocked, she held up her hand. ‘Not, of course, that you behaved in any way improperly towards him, but there was, I think, a tenderness there.’ Emily bit her lip and turned away, but not before Aurelia had seen tears sparkling in her eyes. ‘There still is, I think,’ she ventured.

  Emily took a deep breath. ‘Yes, there may be,’ she acknowledged bravely. ‘But that does not make any difference I’m afraid. It must not. Please do not try to persuade me. There are things that I cannot disclose.’

  Aurelia sighed deeply. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you may be glad to hear that he is leaving tomorrow, so you will then avoid bumping into one another accidentally.’

  ‘I must be glad of it,’ Emily replied, in subdued tones.

  ‘I will send you word when he is leaving, and I will pray that you will change your mind in the interim.’ She went to t
he door, then turned around impulsively. ‘You have not told me what the problem is, and neither has he, but he has dropped a hint that it may be to do with his reputation.

  ‘I want you to know that these things are often very exaggerated, especially by the likes of Mrs Hughes. She has wanted him for a long time but he has never responded to her, so she can sometimes try to put other females off by hinting that he is involved with her, which is not the case. I cannot pretend that he has not enjoyed female companionship in the past, but he is one of the most honourable men that I know, and the woman who could call him husband would never have cause to regret it.’

  It was only after Aurelia had gone, and Emily had stood for a long time staring at the closed door that she realized that there was something different about the room. The portrait of Patrick had been replaced by one of her mother. She thought about what she had said to her father after the baronet had left. Never before had she lashed out at him in such a way. Until now she had been too wrapped up in her own pain to think about his. Feeling suddenly guilty, she went to his study and knocked on the door. Hearing no reply, she went in and found her father by the window, examining the picture of Patrick, which had been placed on the desk.

  He looked up at her, and she could see that there were unshed tears in his eyes. A sudden insight made her wonder whether the picture that he had created of Patrick had been a way of avoiding grieving for him as he should have done.

  ‘Emily, have I been mistaken all these years?’

  ‘Oh Papa,’ she said, ‘I am so very sorry,’ and she ran across the room to him. In the manner of one to whom such a gesture is very unfamiliar, he opened his arms, and she went into his embrace weeping, though whether her tears were for her father, for Patrick, or for her lost love, she would have been hard put to it to say.

  They stood like that for a long time, not speaking. Eventually, Canon Whittaker said, ‘He never sat for this picture, you know. It was taken from a miniature.’