by Stella Riley
‘I’ve met him,’ said Dolly, smiling at Elizabeth. ‘But after days in his company and no pre-conceived ideas, what did you make of him?’
‘He’s clever … yet also somehow confusing.’ And alarmingly attractive. She hid that thought with a slight shrug. ‘The perfect manners make it impossible to really know him but also prohibit dislike. And if he hadn’t helped Annie and me, we would probably still be stuck in St Neots.’
* * *
Five busy days after arriving in St James Square, Elizabeth prepared to meet some of the duke and duchess’s closest friends. She tried to be comforted by the assurance that the gathering was both small and informal; she also tried to rid herself of the idiotic wish that Lord Sherbourne was to be present. She might not be sure what he was really saying half of the time but at least his face was familiar. And since learning that, contrary to expectations, his lordship had signified his willingness to wed her should the need arise, Elizabeth’s feelings towards him had gathered an element of something she could not quite identify.
‘Chin up, Miss,’ said Annie bracingly as she put the finishing touches to Elizabeth’s hair. ‘You look a treat. That polonaise could’ve been made for you.’
‘It was,’ muttered Elizabeth. ‘How many times must I remind you to be careful?’
‘I am careful when anybody’s about.’ Annie tweaked a curl into place. ‘There. Perfect, if I do say it who shouldn’t. Now … off you go, Miss Belle. And enjoy yourself.’
She joined the duke and duchess in the drawing-room just as sounds from below betokened the first arrivals.
‘Cassie and Sebastian,’ said Adeline. ‘I particularly asked them to be early.’
Within an hour, four of the five couples had arrived – as had the duke’s friend Mr Fox, thus giving Elizabeth her first glimpse of the fashions favoured by the Macaroni club. As for the other gentlemen – my lords Amberley and Sarre, Mr Audley and Lord Harry Caversham – all were elegant, good-looking and possessed of easy charm. All bowed over Elizabeth’s hand … after which, she found herself surrounded by their ladies.
It took less than five minutes for Elizabeth to understand why Cousin Adeline had wanted Cassandra Audley to arrive first. The two of them were the same age and similar in nature, so Elizabeth liked Cassie immediately. She also liked Caroline, Lady Sarre. And though the seeming ebullience of Rockliffe’s sister, Lady Elinor Caversham, took a little more getting used to, her forthright friendly acceptance was hard to resist.
Last to arrive – and greeted with much good-natured banter – was the duke’s brother, Lord Nicholas Wynstanton and his beautiful red-haired wife. With an elegant shrug, Madeleine informed the company that she was reforming Nicholas’s time-keeping by degrees, since rapid adjustments represented too great a shock to his system.
Towards the end of supper, Rockliffe proposed a toast of welcome to Arabella and then, having briefly described her journey said, ‘Sherbourne is convinced that Philippa Sutherland will try to make mischief – and I agree. Therefore, should anything be said in your hearing, I would be obliged if you would look suitably mystified and remark that surely her ladyship must be mistaken. Mistress Brandon’s elderly aunt was travelling with her as chaperone, was she not?’ He paused and, with a sardonic smile, added, ‘She wasn’t, of course. So please do not allow yourselves to be drawn into supplying details.’
‘Goodness,’ remarked Nell Caversham a little later when the gentlemen had gravitated to the card table, leaving the ladies to gossip amongst themselves, ‘You had Ralph Sherbourne all to yourself for four whole days?’
‘Not entirely,’ said Elizabeth. ‘My maid and his lordship’s valet shared the carriage with us. And he spent most of the time reading.’
‘Reading?’ echoed Nell, as if she’d been told Sherbourne had passed the journey painting his toenails pink. ‘How disappointing! When Cassie and I made our come-outs, there were at least half a dozen girls who were desperate to catch his eye but he never showed the least interest – which naturally made him all the more attractive. And there’s no denying that he is attractive.’
‘Looks,’ remarked Cassie, ‘are beside the point. The only time I met him, he behaved atrociously.’ She looked at Madeleine. ‘He’s been out of town since last November. Now he’s back and presumably aware that he has a four-month-old nephew. Do you think he will try to mend matters between himself and Genevieve?’
‘And demean himself by associating with a lowly gaming-house proprietor?’ asked Madeleine acidly. ‘I doubt it. Neither can I imagine either Genevieve or Aristide welcoming any such overtures.’
Adeline smiled at Elizabeth and said, ‘Genevieve is Sherbourne’s half-sister and she is married to Madeleine’s brother who owns a very successful gentleman’s club. I don’t suppose the earl mentioned any of that to you?’
‘No. Neither of us talked about anything of a personal nature.’
‘Do you know what I think, Adeline?’ said Nell suddenly. ‘I think you should have invited him this evening.’
‘Sherbourne?’ laughed Cassie. ‘I’d like to have seen his face if she had!’
‘No.’ It was Caroline who spoke. ‘Nell has a point. The best way to make Philippa Sutherland’s gossip appear ridiculous is to demonstrate gratitude and a degree of friendship towards Sherbourne for rescuing Arabella from an awkward situation.’
Elizabeth said hesitantly, ‘I seem to be putting everyone to a great deal of trouble.’
‘Nonsense,’ retorted Nell. She looked at Adeline. ‘It’s the Cavendish ball next week. Dolly won’t have invited Sherbourne since he’s only now returned to London. But I imagine she would, if someone asked her to. What do you think?’
There was a brief silence. Then Adeline said, ‘Yes. I’ll call on her tomorrow. Well done, Nell – it’s a good idea. I wish I’d thought of it.’
* * *
Lord Sherbourne, meanwhile, was in Dorset and riding to Finchley Farm. He was not looking forward to the coming interview. He was fairly sure he knew how it would end. The only thing he could look forward to was seeing Cedric’s face when he knew it too.
He was received by a very grim-faced Mr Belcher and, having apologised for being unable to arrive sooner, added, ‘You also have my sincere apologies for this whole unfortunate affair. However, while someone retrieves my brother, perhaps you and I can discuss what is to be done.’
‘My sons are fetching him now,’ replied Mr Belcher. ‘As to what’s to be done … there’s only one thing I know that will repair the damage.’
‘Ah. Marriage.’ Exactly what he had expected. ‘Is that what your daughter wants?’
‘It’s what he promised her before he took her maidenhead. Let’s be clear about this, my lord. My Jenny is no light-skirt and she’d not been with a man before your damned brother came along with his fancy manners and promises.’
‘I’m sure. But candour compels me to admit that Cedric is weak, stupid and irresponsible. Does Miss Belcher want that sort of husband? Do you?’
‘Trying to talk me out of it, are you? Well, it’s no more than I expected.’
‘You mistake me, Mr Belcher. I am merely pointing out what you would be getting,’ sighed the earl. ‘Forgive me for asking … but is your daughter with child?’
‘She might be. It’s too soon to tell.’ The farmer turned his head. ‘Sounds like Mr Harcourt’s about to join us. He was damned lucky my boys didn’t knock seven bells out of him. It was only Jenny shouting that he was going to marry her that stopped ’em. But none of us trusted him not to disappear – which is why we’ve had him under lock and key.’
‘I had been trying something of the sort myself,’ murmured Sherbourne.
The door opened and Cedric appeared, flanked by two of Mr Belcher’s brawny sons. He looked grubby, dishevelled … and frantic. His first glimpse of his brother produced a look of wary relief and he said unsteadily, ‘Ralph – thank God. They’ve been keeping me a prisoner. Me! In a bloody hovel! You’ve got to make them
let me go.’
‘I don’t have to do anything, Cedric. As usual, you find yourself in a mess of your own making. Sit down.’
‘But they’ve got it all wrong! She – she chased after me and – and, no matter what she says, I wasn’t the first. There’d been others. Why won’t anybody believe me?’
‘Shut your filthy mouth or I’ll shut it for you,’ growled one of Jenny’s brothers.
Cedric quailed and directed a pleading stare at his brother. ‘Ralph – please!’
‘Sit down.’ Although his voice was no louder, there was disgust and menace in the earl’s tone. Then, when Cedric had been shoved into a chair, he said coldly, ‘You have just been given some good advice. Heed it.’ He turned to Mr Belcher senior. ‘I suggest that your sons leave this matter between the three of us for the time being … but to perhaps find out if Miss Belcher wishes to join us?’
‘Aye. That’d be best.’ With a jerk of his chin, Belcher told his sons to leave and, when they had done so, he glared down on Cedric, saying, ‘You’re a bloody disgrace, young man. And if you try blackening my Jenny’s name again, I’ll let Aaron and Ned give you a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry.’
‘Do not,’ added Sherbourne, ‘expect me to protect you. I have done that for the last time. Henceforth, you reap what you sow.’
Mr Belcher shot him a look of mingled surprise and approval. Then the door opened again … and Jenny stepped hesitantly into the room.
She was a pretty child … child being the operative word since Ralph didn’t believe she was a day over seventeen … and possessed of blue eyes, glossy brown curls and a body just blossoming into womanhood. Flags of colour flew in her cheeks and her eyes darted around the room before fixing themselves on Cedric with an expression which, in Ralph’s opinion, his brother didn’t deserve. He stepped forward, bowed and with an encouraging smile, said, ‘Please sit down, Miss Belcher. There is no need to be embarrassed – or to fear that I blame you for any of this.’
‘Oh.’ She perched on the edge of a chair. ‘You d-don’t?’
‘No. Your father says that my brother promised you marriage. Is that true?’
She nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, my lord. If he hadn’t, I’d never have – have --’
‘I didn’t,’ blurted out Cedric. ‘On my honour, Ralph – I --’
‘If you had even a shred of honour,’ came the cutting reply, ‘we would not be having this conversation. Now be silent. I will tell you when you may speak.’ He turned back to the girl. ‘He offered marriage. And you believed him?’
‘I – yes.’ She bit her lip and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I shouldn’t have, should I?’
‘No. The only thing about Cedric on which one may always rely, is his ability to lie. However … knowing this, is it remotely possible that you wish to marry him?’
‘Y-Yes, my lord. I believe I l-love him.’
‘God help you, then,’ breathed Sherbourne. And to her father, ‘The final word has to be yours, Mr Belcher. The only other thing I can offer is financial compensation … if you feel that worth discussing.’
‘I don’t. If it turns out Jenny is expecting, money isn’t going to mend matters, is it?’
‘No. It is not.’
Cedric looked disbelievingly at his brother. He said, ‘Ralph? You – you’re not going to make me marry her, are you? You can’t. I don’t want to be married!’
‘Then it is a pity you did not think of that sooner,’ said Sherbourne, icily dismissive. ‘Very well, Mr Belcher. Have the banns called and send me word when the ceremony is to take place. In the meantime, I suggest that you continue to keep my brother contained – though not, perhaps, in the gamekeeper’s cottage? I will have his clothes sent from Gardington. And at some point, we should consider where he and your daughter are to live once they are married. It will not, I regret to say, be in my house.’
Cedric erupted from his chair and grabbed his brother’s arm.
‘Ralph – what the hell are you doing? Trying to frighten me? You can’t mean this – you can’t! You’ve got to get me out of it!’
Shaking himself free and stepping back, Sherbourne said, ‘No. I am done with you, Cedric. In future, you can go to the devil your own way.’
~ * * ~ * * ~
CHAPTER TWELVE
Arabella stared at the letter, her vision blurred. She had known it would be from Aunt Maria. Of course she had. What she hadn’t expected was for it to release a flood of homesickness. Suddenly, more than anything she wanted a letter from her own mother or from Max; and because she knew she wouldn’t get either for as long as she stayed at Chalfont, stupid tears welled up. Blinking them back, she told herself not to be an idiot. In two months, three at the most, she would be home again, the adventure behind her … and everything would be just as it was before.
Except that it wouldn’t, would it? The knowledge came unbidden and not entirely understood. After this … after Julian and the children and everything here … how can things at home ever be just as they were?
Arabella dried her eyes, blew her nose and straightened her spine. Then she asked herself the obvious question. If Max arrived at the door right now to take her home … would she want to go? And the answer, without even having to think about it, was that she wouldn’t. Not yet. Not until she knew Julian better; not before the harpsichord was fully restored; and not until she had heard him play it.
For now, however, it was time to embark on her mission for the day. In truth, there were two missions – though the second might well depend on the success of the first. So as Violet was finishing her hair, she told her what she wanted to do.
The girl’s jaw dropped. ‘Go down the cellars? Me? No. I’m sorry, Miss Lizzie – but no.’
‘We’ll take a couple of lanterns and --’
‘No, I tell you! It’ll be black as pitch and there’ll be rats.’
‘Then we’ll take a shovel to hit them with. Come on, Violet. Ladies’ maids have to be intrepid. It isn’t all hair-tongs and goffering irons, you know. Please? I promise it won’t take more than ten minutes.’
‘Oh bloody hell. Alright. Ten minutes, then. But if we get bit by rats --’
‘We won’t,’ agreed Arabella, refusing to contemplate this possibility. ‘Let’s go.’
‘What do you want in here, anyway?’ asked Violet, as they opened the cellar door and peered down into the depths. ‘Smells as if something died down there.’
Arabella decided not to think about that either. Holding her lantern in one hand and her skirts clear of the filth in the other, she trod carefully down the stairs. She said, ‘The late earl was a drunkard. If he kept wine, this is where it will be.’
‘But he’s been dead nigh on eighteen months. Anything that’s left will have gone off.’
‘Perhaps – perhaps not.’ She reached the foot of the steps, lifted the lantern high to send the light as far as possible … and saw the racks. They weren’t by any means full but equally, they were not empty. Arabella said, ‘Come here and hold my lantern.’
A scurrying sound kept Violet glued on the second step from the bottom.
‘Violet! The sooner I look at these bottles, the sooner we leave. Now come here!’
‘Oh lord!’ moaned the maid, edging her way across the floor. ‘Do hurry up, Miss.’
Arabella shoved the lantern at her and started sliding out bottles. She might not drink wine herself very often, but Max and Adam had taught her what to look for on a label. By the time she had examined half a dozen she realised that, as she had hoped, the fourth earl had a decent palate and that, since it had been properly stored, the wine should be as good as it had ever been, if not better.
Grinning in triumph, she carefully put all but one of the bottles back and said, ‘Thank you, Violet. I’ve found out what I wanted to know. Let’s get out of here.’
* * *
Julian was on the barn roof, re-laying shingles under the direction of Mr Ridley. As usual, he was wearing neither coat n
or cravat, his shirt-sleeves were rolled up and the usual stubborn lock of hair was curving about his cheek. To Arabella, experiencing a complex mix of sadness, affection and anger, he looked beautiful.
‘You bain’t doing that right,’ observed Mr Ridley complacently. ‘You bain’t overlapping ’em proper.’
‘I am doing exactly what you told me,’ replied Julian through his teeth. ‘And the reason I am doing it at all is because you can’t be scrambling about on a roof at your age. So hold your tongue and check the gates haven’t mysteriously opened themselves again.’
The old man gave a sour laugh and hauled himself to his feet.
‘Ain’t no mystery – and did it first thing.’ He winked at Arabella and turned to go. ‘Show some muscle, m’lord. There’s a pretty lass here admiring you.’
Startled, Julian glanced round. ‘Oh – Mistress Marsden. Wait. I’ll come down.’
When he was safely on the ground, she said, ‘You asked me to use your given name. I’ll do it if you stop calling me Mistress Marsden.’
He looked away and then back, as if hiding a thought. ‘What would you prefer?’
It came to her that what she’d prefer was the thing she couldn’t have. The children called her Miss Lizzie and she didn’t mind that. Having Julian use a name other than her own somehow brought home the extent of her deception. She wished she hadn’t said anything. But it was too late to go back so she swallowed the odd lump in her throat and said, ‘Elizabeth?’
Julian nodded. ‘Elizabeth, then. Now … what brought you out here?’
She opened her mouth to tell him and instead, gesturing to the barn roof, said, ‘You shouldn’t be working as a labourer. Is there no one else who could do that?’
‘Not today. And with the corn still in there and Ridley convinced we’ll get rain overnight, it won’t wait.’