Earl to the Rescue

by Jane Ashford

  Gwendeline arranged to view pictures with Mr. Ames the next day. He had quite a list of things she must see, and she planned to devote the whole afternoon to them. Unfortunately, both she and Mrs. Ames had dinner engagements for that evening, so they couldn’t go on to dinner.

  The Ameses took their leave, and Gwendeline and Miss Brown sat back in their chairs. “It turned out well,” said Gwendeline. “I was afraid they’d be angry with me.”

  “They’re too kind to have been really angry. But they were puzzled, no doubt. However, all is well now. Mr. Ames is such a charming man.”

  Gwendeline smiled. “I look forward to our expedition.”

  “You’ll see a great many pictures,” replied the older woman with some amusement. “I hope you’ll be attentive and learn something.”

  “I’ll have no choice.”

  They laughed together and went back to their work. It took rather longer than they expected, so that they had a hurried tea and went directly up to dress for dinner. They were invited to the Everlys’ for the evening, and Lillian had asked Gwendeline to come early to meet some friends of hers visiting from the country.

  The evening went well, though Gwendeline felt a little ill at ease with Lillian’s parents at first. She was conscious of all that she’d heard of their plans for their daughter and of Lillian’s worries. But they were kind and charming, and she soon felt comfortable. Their guests were also compatible people, and the party was pleasant. They had some music after dinner; Lillian sang and played, as did the two daughters of their visitors. This was followed by a cheerfully noisy game of loo. Gwendeline returned home in good spirits, tired but content.

  Reeves let them in, and Gwendeline started directly up to her bedchamber. She paused on the stairs, however, when the butler addressed her.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Gwendeline,” he said, “but two letters were delivered by hand while you were out. I thought you would wish to have them as soon as possible.” He held out two envelopes to her.

  “Thank you, Reeves,” she said as she took them. She continued up to her room, saying an affectionate good night to Miss Brown as they separated.

  She didn’t open the letters immediately but undressed and made ready for bed. When she was settled, propped up against the pillows in her nightgown, she took them up again. If either required an answer, she thought, it would just have to wait until morning.

  The first envelope contained a note from Lord Merryn. Gwendeline’s heart beat faster when she saw the signature and read his request to call tomorrow to speak with her. For some minutes, she lay back against her pillows wondering what he wanted to say and thinking of him dreamily. Finally, she reached for the other letter and pulled the single sheet of paper from the envelope. The note, printed in rough block letters and unsigned, said, “You will be found out. You cannot escape.”

  Gwendeline got out of bed and threw it into the fire. She watched it burn, then climbed back under the covers, trembling. Who would send her such a vile thing? She remembered the letter Adele Greene had brought with her, and her shock began to develop into real fear. Was the same person the author of both notes? Who could be waging this anonymous campaign against her? And why?

  Seventeen

  When she woke, late in the morning, Gwendeline realized that she should have kept the letter instead of burning it. Yet it must have been the work of some malicious prankster and nothing more. She would ignore it.

  She dressed carefully, remembering that Lord Merryn was to call, and had Ellen pay special attention to her hair, brushing the pale blond curls until they shone, and arranging them à la Tite. She chatted with Ellen, who’d been subdued for the past several days, trying to find out how things were going belowstairs. But Ellen would say almost nothing, which was most unusual for her.

  When she finally stood before the mirror, she was pleased with her appearance. She had chosen a gown of white sprigged muslin with long sleeves and a high ruffled neckline. A flounce circled the hem, and a row of tiny blue buttons closed the back and cuffs. She went downstairs with a feeling of anticipation. She still had no idea what Lord Merryn wished to discuss, but she was eager to see him.

  Miss Brown was in the breakfast room, though she had long since finished her meal. She was writing letters when Gwendeline entered, and paused only to smile a greeting and her approval of Gwendeline’s dress. Gwendeline hurried through breakfast, and indeed she’d hardly finished when she heard the bell and Reeves entered to tell her Lord Merryn was in the drawing room. Miss Brown looked up, surprised, and Gwendeline said, “He wrote me yesterday and said he would call. I don’t know what he wishes to discuss.”

  Miss Brown put down her pen. “Shall I remain here? Does he wish to speak to you alone?”

  “He didn’t say so. You may come if you like.”

  “I should much prefer to finish my letters, as you know very well. You go on. If you want me, I’ll be here.”

  Gwendeline nodded and left the room. She paused for a moment outside the drawing room doorway, then walked in. The earl rose from the sofa at her entrance. “Good morning, Lord Merryn,” she said. “I received your note late last night and thus had no time to reply.”

  “Good morning,” he replied. “I hope my call doesn’t then come at an inconvenient time?”

  “Oh no,” answered Gwendeline, taking the armchair. “Please sit down.”

  The earl did so. “How wonderfully polite we are!”

  Gwendeline laughed. “Yes indeed.”

  “And I must say now that you are looking lovely this morning.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” replied Gwendeline demurely. “You are too kind.”

  “Oh no,” said the earl. His expression turned serious. “I’ve come to discuss a rather delicate matter,” he said. “I’m not certain how to begin, in fact.”

  “Oh?” said Gwendeline. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is precisely wrong,” he went on, “but a very odd conversation I had with Adele last evening left me puzzled, and I hoped you could enlighten me.”

  “I?” Gwendeline wondered whether Adele had told Lord Merryn of her visit and its purpose. She couldn’t believe that she had.

  “Yes. You have no idea to what I am referring?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Gwendeline. “You must explain.”

  “Very well,” he answered. “The first thing Adele said to me when we met last night at Almack’s was ‘I suppose you have already heard all about my visit to Miss Gregory.’ I replied that I knew nothing of any visit, whereupon Adele refused to say any more about the subject and even became angry when I pressed her to explain.” Lord Merryn raised his eyebrows. “Can you throw any light on the topic?”

  “You put me in a difficult position, Lord Merryn,” answered Gwendeline. “Surely I shouldn’t discuss a matter your fiancée doesn’t wish pursued.” Gwendeline had no intention of telling the earl what Adele had said to her.

  “My… Don’t be a goose, Gwendeline. Has Adele said anything to upset you? That’s really all I wish to know. Don’t go all missish on me now.”

  Gwendeline lifted her chin and looked directly into his eyes. “No,” she answered mendaciously, “not at all.”

  The earl surveyed Gwendeline skeptically. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t think you’re being entirely honest with me,” he said. “But I suppose I can expect no more.” He looked resigned, and Gwendeline nearly blurted out the truth. “Only promise me, Gwendeline, that you won’t run away again if anything should happen to upset you. I couldn’t stand it. Ask for an explanation first, please.” He leaned forward and took her hand. “Will you promise me that?” he continued, gazing into her eyes.

  Gwendeline could hardly speak through the beating of her heart. “I’ll never be so foolish again.”

  “Good.” He squeezed her hand and released it. There was a short silence. It was all well and
good to speak of explanations, Gwendeline thought, but one couldn’t ask a man why he’d become engaged to a girl who seemed entirely wrong for him. Not when all she wanted was to throw herself into his arms. The answer might be more than she could bear.

  “I understand you’re beginning to entertain,” said the earl.

  “Yes.” And so they were doomed to chitchat. “You received my invitation? I hope you will come.”

  “Certainly. Is it true that you are to have Carleton Ames to meet my mother?”

  “I’ve asked them both.”

  Lord Merryn smiled. “It’s very kind of you. Mama has wished to meet a well-known artist or writer for years and has never managed it. She will be in ecstasies.”

  “I hope so. She’s been so kind to me. I’d like to do something to repay her.”

  “You have repaid her tenfold,” he answered. “You’ve fulfilled her dearest wish.”

  Gwendeline smiled. “Well, I’m glad. Do you know, I believe Mr. Woodley is something of a fraud. Mr. Ames says he is not a friend of his at all. In fact, he said that Mr. Woodley doesn’t really know any of the celebrated people he claims as friends.”

  “Of course he doesn’t. He is a crashing bore. But your influence with Mr. Ames must be large if you could make him agree to such a party. I’ve heard that he dislikes both society and novelists of all sorts. You’ve scored quite a coup.”

  “Oh, now you’re bamming me,” Gwendeline answered. “I shan’t listen.”

  “In that case, I’d better take my leave.” Lord Merryn rose.

  Gwendeline realized this was an ideal opportunity to ask the earl about her income. She didn’t wish to, but she felt she must. “Could you stay a moment more?” she asked him.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Of course.” He sat down again. “Do you wish to tell me what Adele said, after all?”

  Gwendeline shook her head. “You will think me foolish, I suppose, but I have been worried once again about my situation.”

  Lord Merryn looked at her.

  Gazing at the elegant, handsome figure next to her, Gwendeline’s heart nearly failed her, but she made herself say, “Yes. My income, you know, and this house.”

  “I thought we’d settled that long since. What has occurred to upset you?”

  Gwendeline was staring down at her folded hands. “I’ve heard some things, and, and thinking over my conversation with Sir Humphrey, I realized that he didn’t…” She broke off and looked up into St. Audley’s gray eyes. “Lord Merryn, is there truly a group of my father’s friends helping me? Or are you the only one involved? I can’t dismiss the idea that you are, and it worries me considerably. You must see how improper it would be, that is…” Her eyes dropped. “I’ve been very uneasy.”

  “I can see that you have,” he replied. “What would satisfy you? Shall we visit Sir Humphrey together and ask him to confirm his role in your rescue? Would that make you easy?”

  Gwendeline gazed at him with painful intensity. “Would he?”

  “He would,” answered Lord Merryn positively. “I will take you there whenever you like.” He chuckled. “Though the old man will hate to be bothered, of course.”

  “No, no, that isn’t necessary.” Gwendeline sighed as a wave of relief washed over her.

  “Is it so good to find that you don’t owe your rescue wholly to me?”

  “Yes,” replied the girl fiercely.

  “Ah. Well, I’m glad to have set your mind at rest.” He rose rather stiffly. “And now, if there’s nothing else?” Gwendeline shook her head, and he bowed. “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye. And thank you.” When he was gone, Gwendeline leaned back and felt again the luxury of her relief. Why did she persist in doubting him? She thought over their visit. He certainly talked of Adele in an odd way for a man who was engaged to her.

  She suddenly remembered the anonymous letter, and in the same instant wondered if Adele might have sent it. Her own letter might have inspired a sort of tit for tat, a mean-spirited prank. Who else could it be? Gwendeline dismissed the matter from her mind and went to look for Miss Brown.

  The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and they spent a now-rare quiet evening at home, having cancelled plans to go to the theater.

  Gwendeline rose early the next morning and held a long conference with Alphonse on the subject of tea cakes. With some difficulty she persuaded him to forego the elaborate many-layered, cream-covered confections he had in mind in favor of some simpler sweets. As they talked, it seemed to her that he had regained his former spirits. Greatly encouraged, she began to hope that the latest domestic crisis was really over at last.

  Gwendeline had promised Mr. Ames to be ready promptly at one for their picture viewing expedition, and he arrived as the hour was striking. Gwendeline was amazed and a bit dismayed to find that he had made extended arrangements for the afternoon, including viewings of several paintings in private houses. It was to be a thorough lesson.

  They said goodbye to Miss Brown and entered the open carriage Mr. Ames had rented in town; he’d carefully plotted the best route to take in order to reach all stops and return most expeditiously. He was in high spirits and looked jollier than ever, with his halo of white hair blown by the breeze and his eyes twinkling. “A capital day,” he said to Gwendeline when they were settled in their seats and under way. “You’re going to enjoy this, I promise.”

  “I am sure I shall,” replied Gwendeline.

  And somewhat to her surprise, she did. Mr. Ames spent some time with each picture they saw, explaining the effects it achieved, the brush strokes, the color use, and the individual techniques of the artists. Gwendeline’s part in the afternoon’s conversation consisted chiefly of murmurs of agreement, but she thoroughly enjoyed his explanations. His discourses were fascinating, and the paintings they saw were beautiful. She particularly liked a series of aquatint lithographs they looked at in a private home. Mr. William Daniel had formed the idea of cataloguing English harbors and seacoast towns in a “Voyage around Great Britain,” and since the responses of “those noblemen and gentlemen who wish to become subscribers” had been very favorable, he was now doing so. Mr. Ames pointed out the fine detail in the works so far completed and praised the concept. He, too, was most interested in landscapes.

  Gwendeline’s head was whirling by the time they’d finished only half their tour, and Mr. Ames was beginning to realize that his plan for the day had been too ambitious. They both agreed that a cup of tea would be welcome and stopped in a tea shop near Bond Street.

  As they sipped, Mr. Ames continued his talk of the surprising way in which completely alien colors could be used effectively to convey a scene. “Blue in the trees, say, or purple in a stone.” He cocked an eye at Gwendeline. “But we talked of this the first time I saw your painting, didn’t we?”

  “Did we?” answered Gwendeline. “I’ve forgotten.”

  “Red in the ocean it was. I’m certain of it.” He grinned. “I may forget a name or a face, but never a painting. Did you put it in?” Gwendeline looked a bit puzzled, so he continued. “The red, you know, did you put it in your painting?”

  “Oh,” said Gwendeline. “I must have.” She remembered that she’d done no such thing but had dismissed Mr. Ames as something of a busybody. “I’ll have to look for that canvas.”

  The twinkle in Mr. Ames’s eyes grew more pronounced. “Indeed,” he answered, “I should like to see how the red came out.” When Gwendeline, unable to frame a truthful yet tactful reply, grew obviously uncomfortable, Mr. Ames burst out laughing. “What a goose you are. Of course you didn’t put in the red. No decent artist lets someone else dictate his strokes.” He drew out his handkerchief to wipe his eyes. “Your face,” he went on between great bursts of laughter, “you looked so guilty, like a little girl caught stealing jam, you know.”

  Gwendeline smiled. “I only meant to be polite,” sh
e replied, as Mr. Ames’s laughter began to subside.

  “Oh, ah.” He wiped his eyes one last time, put his handkerchief back in his pocket, ran a hand through his untamable hair, and sat back, hands folded over his stomach. “Polite!” he said with contempt. His expression grew more serious. “Never be polite about art, Gwendeline. Or indeed about anything really important. You have to say what you think when it matters, when a thing means something to you.” He stared at Gwendeline. “Do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” said Gwendeline. “But it’s not always possible to say what one means. There are times when politeness is very necessary.”

  “No.” Mr. Ames looked at her from beneath his bushy eyebrows and opened his mouth to say something further, but at that moment a voice behind Gwendeline said, “Miss Gregory.” She turned to find Major St. Audley standing there.

  “Hello,” she answered, surprised. “I should never have expected to find you here, Major.” She smiled at his obvious discomfort in the tea shop.

  He looked around the room. “Nor will you ever again,” he said with a grimace, “but I promised to meet my mother here this afternoon. Some nonsense about parcels.” He grinned. “I think she just wants one of her sons dancing attendance, and she knows there’s no hope of getting Alex.”

  Gwendeline laughed, but she grew a little uneasy, hearing that Lady Merryn was expected. “I’m sure she’d rather have you,” she said.

  “Much the better man for a tea shop and shopping expedition?” he asked her wryly. He made a face and bowed mockingly. “Thank you very much.”

  As she laughed at this sally, Gwendeline glanced across the table. “Mr. Ames, allow me to introduce Major St. Audley. Major, Mr. Carleton Ames.”