The Artful Match

by Jennifer Delamere

  “Thank you so much,” she said effusively.

  They acknowledged her thanks with smiles and nods but didn’t move. “We brought everything straight ’ere,” said one of them proudly. “It arrived at the railway station not one hour ago.”

  “Didn’t lose nothing, neither,” the other chimed in. “Lots of things can get lost in this big, bustling city, you know.”

  “That is very good of you.” Cara began to feel uneasy, wondering why they didn’t leave.

  “Wait here,” Georgiana told them. “I’ll be right back.” She went off to the other room, leaving Cara with the men, who grinned. When Georgiana returned, she placed a coin in each man’s hand. “There you go.”

  They tipped their hats and raced back to the street. Jumping onto their wagon, which was loaded with other deliveries, they set off.

  “Thank you,” Cara said to Georgiana, feeling foolish that she hadn’t realized they were waiting for a tip. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t worry yourself,” Georgiana said. She was about to shut the door when her attention was caught by something else in the street. “Well, look at that.”

  Cara looked outside. A carriage was pulling into place where the delivery wagon had been. It was Henry’s brougham; Cara recognized the driver. The brougham’s top had been folded down so that the plush seats were open to the fine day. Langham was the only occupant.

  Seeing Cara and Georgiana, he gave them a wave and descended from the carriage. “Greetings!” he said as he came up the steps. “I’ve brought our transportation to Kew Green.”

  “That’s Henry’s carriage!” Cara said in surprise. “He let you borrow it?”

  “It belongs to the family. I’ve as much a right to it as he does.”

  Adrian joined them in the hallway, grinning as he looked at the waiting carriage. “Bravo! We shall have a fun time of it, eh? This is a vast improvement over an omnibus.”

  “Are we ready to go?” Langham asked.

  “We have to change our clothes,” Georgiana said. “Some of us have been working this morning.”

  “I wish I had come earlier,” Langham replied with feeling. “There is simply no peace to be had at Henry’s house. I did well to get out of there before things got too loud.”

  “What do you mean?” Cara asked in alarm.

  “Henry had to go out of town unexpectedly today, and a certain little girl isn’t happy about it.”

  “Oh dear.” Cara could easily imagine what must be happening at Henry’s house.

  “Don’t worry about Amelia. The servants will keep her in hand. We’ve got a party to get to, remember?”

  Reluctantly, Cara had to agree there was nothing she could do for Amelia at present.

  The others helped Cara get her things to her room and then left to prepare for the party. Cara opened the trunk to retrieve her summer frock, which she remembered she’d placed at the top. As she pulled it out, a letter fell from the folds and drifted to the carpet. Cara snatched it up. It was from Julia. It must have arrived at the Needenhams’ after she’d gone and been placed in the trunk by the housekeeper.

  She placed the frock on the bed. They were leaving shortly for the party, but Cara wasn’t going to wait even a minute to see what this note contained. She tore open the letter.

  The first part of the message confirmed what Cara had learned from the Queen’s College house matron: Julia and Michael had gotten married and left for South America just before Cara had arrived in London. As she read, Cara’s anger resurfaced. Julia had behaved callously toward her sisters, both of whom would have wished to attend the wedding, and neither of whom wanted to see her leave England.

  I cannot tell you why I am going, but I will say that I have the highest hopes for success, and that when I return to you, all will be forgiven.

  Cara could hear Julia’s voice as clearly as if her sister were here. But she could make no sense of the words. Julia had probably made them cryptic on purpose. If Julia thought this letter would somehow mollify Cara, she’d been dead wrong. It only confused and upset her more.

  Rosalyn had no doubt also received such a letter. What had been her reaction? Cara could easily guess. In fact, their mutual indignation at Julia’s actions might well have drawn them closer together than ever before.

  If it had not been for their mother’s watch.

  Cara hastily refolded the letter and thrust it back in the trunk. She might have thrown the missive right into the fire, had there been one. Fighting to quell her irritation, she ordered herself not to waste a minute regretting her distance from her sisters. She had begun a new life here, and she was on her way to the home of a renowned artist. That must be her focus. She had goals of her own now. Heartaches must be placed in the past and not allowed to quench her dreams.

  The ride to Kew Green in an earl’s carriage to attend an exclusive party for artists ought to have provided Cara with more than enough to occupy her thoughts. There was a great deal of talking and laughing among the others as the carriage rolled westward out of London. Yet Cara couldn’t help but wonder how Amelia was getting along. She felt sorry for the little girl who had so much and yet was so unhappy.

  “Here we are!” Langham announced as the coachman brought the carriage to a stop in front of a red-brick town home that looked out over a large green with a cricket pitch.

  A maid opened the door, and Mr. and Mrs. Hughes were waiting just inside to welcome them. Adrian shook the artist’s hand heartily and greeted Mrs. Hughes with a kiss on the cheek. Cara hung back as Langham and Georgiana did the same. Adrian finally motioned Cara forward. “Hughes, this is Cara Bernay, the woman I wrote to you about.”

  Arthur Hughes was a pleasant man in his early fifties with a kind face. “Welcome, Miss Bernay.”

  “Everyone is out back,” said Mrs. Hughes, beckoning for the others to follow her.

  It seemed they were the last to arrive. A lively conversation was already taking place among a dozen people seated at a long table under a tree. Cara was quickly introduced. Everyone else seemed to know each other. She joined the others at the table, supremely proud to have been invited here.

  The party was all Cara could have hoped for—a happy perfection of delicious food and fascinating company. Mrs. Hughes and her two daughters brought out platters of cold chicken and fruit and pastries and a fresh apple tart. “The first of the season,” Mrs. Hughes said.

  The conversation among the artists enthralled and inspired her. It was a fine collection of news and gossip centered on the art world. Congratulations were traded for various critical and artistic successes, and in this regard, Langham held the spotlight for several minutes as they discussed his upcoming debut at the Grosvenor. As usual, the center of attention was the exact spot where Langham liked to be.

  Nobody addressed too many comments to Cara, but she didn’t mind. She simply soaked it all in. Georgiana tried several times to bring up Cara’s desire to paint, but it never got any traction in the flow of talk as the guests moved from one subject to another. Cara knew she would have to prove herself first. That would take time.

  “So what do you think, Hughes?” Adrian said at one point. “Do you think you can use Cara as a model for one of your upcoming works?”

  “It’s a possibility,” Mr. Hughes acknowledged. “However, it would not be for several months. My family and I are going to Scotland, and I’ll be working on another book illustration project. I’m coming home in early November; perhaps we can discuss something then?”

  “Yes, that would be wonderful,” Cara said.

  The offer was both promising and discouraging. She had the prospect of work in the future, but how would she earn money in the present? Mr. Hughes had already explained that the garden party was a send-off for his friends before most left for the countryside or a seaside resort. Cara, of course, had no such options.

  “Don’t worry, something will turn up,” Langham told her as they rode back to London.

  �
��I don’t suppose you have another idea up your sleeve?” Cara joked, although she still felt disheartened.

  “Possibly,” Langham said with a wink, but he didn’t elaborate.

  When they reached Adrian and Georgiana’s house, Cara prepared to disembark with them. Langham said, “I have a better idea. Why don’t you come back to Mayfair with me?”

  Cara hesitated as she considered this. “It seems rather late for me to go there unannounced.”

  “It’s barely eight o’clock. There’s even a ray or two of sunlight left. I’ll bet Amelia is still awake. Wouldn’t you like to see her?”

  “I have been wondering how she is getting along,” Cara admitted. “Do you think Henry will mind?”

  Langham grinned. “Not a bit.”

  CHAPTER

  19

  HENRY WAITED in the study until Langham—and Henry’s carriage—came home. There was little else he could do, considering he had no idea where they had gone. Last night Cara had mentioned an artist, but he couldn’t remember the man’s name. He could only sit and fume and hope this wasn’t going to be one of those days when Langham stayed out until all hours.

  They had finally managed to calm Amelia. Perhaps it was just as well that Langham hadn’t come home earlier. That way Henry could concentrate on one unruly child at a time. How had he thought he could handle both of them? He could not foresee days like today, when he had to go to Chelmsford to handle pressing financial issues related to the estate. Nor should he have assumed that Langham could be counted on to act like an adult.

  At least he could cull one good thing from today. He’d happened to meet Nigel Hayward at the bank in Chelmsford and secured an invitation to visit him at Roxwell Abbey upon his return to Morestowe. It was a small step, but it might grow into a significant one.

  The footman tapped on the door and entered. “They are arriving now, your lordship.”

  “They? Mr. Burke is not alone?”

  “Miss Bernay is with him, sir.”

  Henry was doubly glad now that Amelia was quiet, although he wasn’t proud of how he’d done it. He was also annoyed that he’d have to read his brother the riot act in Cara’s presence. Did Langham purposely bring her, in hopes it would keep Henry from yelling at him? If so, he was seriously mistaken. Henry stalked out of the study so fast that the footman had to jump aside.

  He reached the front hall as Cara and Langham entered the house. He closed the gap until he was nose to nose with his brother. “Where have you been? And why did you make off with my carriage for the entire day? Did it not occur to you that I might need it for other business? Did you make any kind of provision for the driver and the horses?”

  Cara reacted to this tirade by shrinking back, placing herself halfway behind Langham like a frightened animal.

  Langham’s response was more languid. He rubbed his forehead as though Henry were the one giving him a headache. “Let’s not make a scene, Harry. It’s so tiresome.”

  Henry shoved a finger in Langham’s chest. “You wait here.”

  He threw a glance at Cara, too, but he did not let it linger. He couldn’t allow her remorseful expression to cool his righteous anger.

  As Henry expected, the carriage was still at the curb. Whether Langham had dismissed him or not, Bryce, his driver, would know to wait for Henry’s instructions. Bryce had been in the family’s service for years, and he knew Henry would be furious about today’s events. What made Bryce so valuable was that, in addition to being a good driver and conscientious with the horses, he was fiercely loyal and not the sort to run away from confrontation.

  Bryce stood next to the carriage, hat in hand. He bowed his head as Henry approached. “Good evening, your lordship.”

  “Why did you do it, Bryce? And where has Mr. Burke taken you, that you should be gone so long?”

  “I do beg your pardon for the inconvenience, your lordship. Mr. Burke saw me as I was returning from delivering you to the station. He asked me to take him to Holland Park. And, well . . . he is your brother, sir.”

  Henry took in a long breath, trying to calm his anger. It was true that Langham had a right to the family property, even if he didn’t know how to use it properly. Since Langham was technically Bryce’s superior—a mistake of the fates, if ever there was one—the driver would be in no position to refuse. “Did Mr. Burke have you cool your heels in Holland Park all day?”

  “No, sir. We collected Miss Bernay and two others and drove to Kew Green.”

  Henry didn’t ask Bryce why his brother should want to go so far outside London. Bryce wouldn’t know anyway. He was simply following orders. Unfortunately, a trip to Kew Green and back would have added ten miles or more to the horses’ workday. Henry spent a few moments looking them over and was glad to see they looked none the worse for wear. This was one of the best-matched pairs he’d ever owned, and he could not afford to replace them if they got injured. “Were you able to get some food during the day and keep the horses watered?”

  “Yes, sir!” Bryce answered proudly. He placed a hand on the bay mare nearest him. “I take good care of my ladies. While Mr. Burke and the others were at their garden party, I found some refreshment for me and the horses. Kew Green is a right congenial place.”

  “Thank you, Bryce. I can always trust you to do your job well.” Henry pulled some money from his pocket. “This should cover what you had to spend today, plus a bit more in appreciation for your extra trouble.”

  Bryce accepted the money with a smile. “Thank you, sir. All in a day’s work, sir.”

  “It’s not over yet,” Henry said, remembering that Cara was still in the house. He gave Bryce instructions to wait and went back inside.

  The hall was empty, save for the footman. “They are in the parlor, I suppose?” Henry asked.

  “The study, sir.”

  When Henry walked into the study, he was not the least surprised to see Langham pouring brandy. Cara was perched on the edge of a chair, looking worried—an expression that heightened when Henry entered the room.

  Langham walked to Henry, extending a glass. “An olive branch?”

  “What were you doing in Kew Green?”

  Since Henry had ignored the proffered glass, Langham took a drink from it himself. “Watching the cricket matches, of course.”

  “Langham . . .” Henry growled.

  Langham held up his hands. “We were at a party hosted by Arthur Hughes. He’s a famous painter and book illustrator. Perhaps you’ve heard of him. Or maybe not, since you don’t follow news about the fine arts.”

  It was clear this conversation would be pointless. Langham was not the least bit contrite, and there was nothing Henry could do to make him so.

  Cara stood and walked over to Henry. “I’m terribly sorry if we put you out.”

  “Don’t say we. I’m sure it was not your fault.”

  “Even so.” She offered a conciliatory smile. “How is Amelia?”

  “She reacted badly to my leaving unexpectedly this morning. But she is fine now.”

  “I’m glad you managed to calm her down,” Langham said. “How did you do it?”

  “I reminded her that, as she is the child and I am the adult, she is not the one who decides what happens in this house.”

  “Oh, that seems calculated to appease,” Langham returned dryly.

  “I also told her—and this is unrelated to her actions—that we are leaving for Essex the day after tomorrow. She will be a lot happier once we are out of the city.”

  Henry had not liked the uncomfortable conversation that had ensued. Amelia had asked whether Miss Bernay could come with them. He had told her no but had not been able to give her a reason she could understand.

  “But isn’t she our friend?” Amelia had asked.

  Henry had found it awkward to answer. Cara’s exact status was not something he could precisely describe. He had settled for the easy answer that yes, she was their friend.

  Whereupon Amelia had pointed out that, “The c
ountess invites friends to our house all the time, and they stay for weeks and weeks.”

  Henry couldn’t remember when guests had stayed for weeks and weeks, but apparently it had seemed that way to Amelia. Likely because she always had to be on her best behavior when there were guests in the house.

  “Why are you pressing so hard to have an overseer?” Henry had asked the child. “I thought you’d be happy to be free from a governess for a while, to not have someone telling you what to do.”

  Amelia had shrugged. “Someone will. If not her, then you or the countess.”

  That matter-of-fact statement had bowled over Henry with guilt. But why should it? Of course people told Amelia what to do. She was a child, even if she didn’t like to think of herself that way.

  “May I go up and see her?” Cara asked, bringing Henry’s thoughts sharply back to the present.

  Henry shook his head. “She’s probably asleep. She was tired out, so I had the nursemaid put her to bed early.”

  He left out the long, drawn-out discussion that had taken place before that. The one that had culminated in his promising Amelia he’d look into getting her a pony after they returned to Essex, providing she behaved herself in the meantime. He hoped that by bribing her to cooperate, he had not dealt a major setback to her proper upbringing.

  “One reason we went to Arthur’s house today was to see if we could find a modeling job for Cara,” Langham said, launching into a new subject without showing any signs of following the current one. “We had no luck, though. Hughes and his family are going to Scotland for a few months.”

  “His lordship doesn’t need to concern himself with whether or not I find work,” Cara admonished, looking embarrassed.

  “I think he’ll be very interested, especially when I explain how everything is coming together for his benefit. For all our benefit, really. It’s the perfect solution to our conundrum.”

  “Langham, what are you babbling on about?” Henry said.

  “Miss Leahy will probably not return for several more weeks. That leaves you stuck with the problem of Amelia. Cara has no work at present. Everyone is leaving London for the long holiday. Therefore, I propose that she come to Essex to help look after Amelia.”