She turned then and walked away, quickly moving toward the house. He saw her wiping her cheeks as she went, and it tore him apart to know it was over something that he might so easily have taken from her if she would only let him tell her how much he loved her.
Chapter Thirteen
Well, Tyndale no doubt thought she was absolutely mad after that outburst.
As she sat pretending to enjoy a picnic in Sheffield park, she found she could not enjoy the lavish treats or the beautiful weather. Even watching the antics of the other guests as they marveled at the balloon Mr. Garvey had lavishly arranged for his guests to ride in as they wished, Joanna’s thoughts continually turned over what each of them had said while standing at her parent’s graves. Her mouth had run away with her as it always seemed to when Tyndale came near her. But at least, if nothing else, he knew where she stood. He would not propose to her now and that was a very good thing.
Because what if she had been so irrational as to let herself fall victim to emotion?
Her eyes stole to him, for she always knew precisely where he was as if a thread like a spider’s silk connected her to him whenever he was near. He sat with his Lady Tyndale and his niece, always the observant and solicitous guardian in their lives, despite his decided opinions about house parties and entertainments such as picnics. Yes, she could see his bored scowl even at this distance, but still, he was there for them.
Didn’t that betoken some greater level of affection than any she had experienced? Perhaps it was possible, if she let her heart open up to believing it, that he was a man who was capable of loving and not just taking. If only she did not have such a fortune to cloud the issue, what might she discover about it all?
Having eaten enough cold chicken and strawberries to satisfy her meager appetite, Joanna was on the point of asking Mrs. Pike to take a walk with her—if only to stop herself from following Tyndale with her eyes and looking like a lost sheep—when a footman from the house came toward her with a note on a silver salver.
“Thank you.” She took it and unfolded it, holding it firmly as the breeze coming over the hill threatened to blow it away from her. Mrs. Pike watched her, curiosity so prominent on her expression that Joanna had to laugh. Since everyone had gone off to stand where the enormous bag of the balloon was filling and rising in the air, she said, “Would you like me to read it aloud?”
“I would never ask you to do so. It is your private communication.”
“Yes, but this is from Mr. Seymour and since you are such an important part of this scheme, you must share it with me. He says, ‘My darling one. I have been amazed to discover that it is possible to fall in love in the space of just a few short days. I never would have believed such was possible, but I have. I hope I am not so arrogant as to suppose you can feel the same as I do, but I had to confess before I journey north. I have business to attend to and though it tears my heart into pieces to be away from you, I must go. If only it were possible…no, I cannot think you would consider such a thing. And yet—what have I to lose by asking? You are your own mistress and may follow the desires of your heart. If joining your life with mine would bring you as much joy as it would me, will you consider coming with me? We can be married in my home parish in Devon, or, if we give in to the impulse of love, we may even travel across the border and unite more quickly. Send me your answer, darling. I shall wait in a frenzy of anxiety to hear your wishes. —Seymour.”
“Well, that was as fine a wheedle as I ever did hear,” Mrs. Pike said, an angry light in her eye.
“Wasn’t. I admit to being rather angry that he should think he had so far cozened me into infatuation with him that I would be ready to run away with him. How very vexing.” Joanna folded the note again and placed it into her reticule. “However, I believe it was a shot drawn at a venture and in desperation. His tenuous relationship with tradesmen in town must have become too uncomfortable for him to remain any longer.”
Mrs. Pike shook her head. “I’d say he’s ripe for the gaol. Well, and it will serve him right when he receives your regrets.”
But Joanna stared thoughtfully at the balloon as it rose up in resplendent color against the blue sky. “But he is in a desperate situation. If I decline his very flattering offer,” she mused, her voice heavy with sarcasm, “Will he not try to make a play for Phoebe. Or even myself? I do not know him well enough to trust the extent of villainy he may get up to.”
“What are you suggesting you do then?”
“I believe…” She paused, thinking. “Yes. Mrs. Pike, I am going to write to accept him.”
“You are not!”
“I most certainly am,” Joanna responded, standing up. “Indeed, I am going to return to the house this very moment to do so. We can’t have him stewing and plotting over what to do next. No, we need to shake him off, and the best way to do that is to send him hot-footed out of town with a rich bride in his carriage.”
“Over my cold, dead body,” Mrs. Pike said, scrambling after her. “Your sainted father—”
“I know. My sainted father told you to watch over me. And so you shall, my dear dragon. Only do walk faster. We do not have much time if we are to set Mr. Seymour’s exit in motion. It really is a shame, you know, that such a promising young man should have no morals or proper feeling. But we must be grateful that he is also arrogant and silly, or no doubt he would have cozened some poor woman into marrying him by now.”
“Marriage would not be the worst thing he could do to you,” Mrs. Pike said, her voice rising as if she were certain Joanna was rushing headlong into disaster.
Joanna just shook her head and put her arm through Mrs. Pikes to better urge her forward. “Do not worry. He will not marry me or in any other way harm me. No, if anything, he will be cursing the day fate brought me his way.”
Chapter Fourteen
Dinner that evening very much reflected the state of affairs between him and Joanna—unpalatable.
Tyndale bore with both the spare two courses and the spare attention the best he could, but when it came to a quiet evening of poetry in the drawing room afterward, he could bear no more and slipped away to contemplate his next move over a glass of brandy in front of the fire.
The fire burned away to coals, and still he had made no more progress than to understand that the best he could do was do his best to convince her of his good intentions, then trust that time and constancy might prove him true. It was rather in a black mood with a great deal of loneliness and yearning stretching before him that Phoebe discovered him. “I have been looking for you all evening,” she said, coming toward him. “I should have known I would find you here but could not think that you would be so ill-mannered as to escape the poetry reading.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You should have known I would be precisely that ill-mannered. You are looking rather tired, child.”
Phoebe sat on the footrest near his chair and bent forward, leaning her chin on her fist. They had often visited thus when she was a child and it touched him to see her looking so suddenly young and vulnerable again.
“I am tired,” she murmured. “And a bit broken, but not, I hope, badly. I truly did mistake Mr. Seymour’s character, didn’t I? Do you think me incredibly foolish.”
“Yes,” he said, but with a kind smile that showed his affection for her. “I will hope to see you chose your next beaus more rationally.”
“Alas, the heart is a fickle creature.” Her tone was melodramatic, but in a jesting way that made him chuckle, despite his own troubles.
“Not fickle when it lands on someone worthy of it.” He sighed. “But even that is not an infallible course to happiness.”
“Uncle—” Phoebe broke off before she could continue and played with the fringe on her shawl.
“Go on.”
“Does Mrs. Thorne like Mr. Seymour?”
“No. She has always known him for what he is.”
“Then I am very confused. I thought she had a preference for you. I was sure of it.�
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Tyndale clenched his jaw a moment until he was in better control of his emotions. “So too did I. And I am not without hope yet.”
“I thought you must be in love with her for you have been acting very oddly, almost from the day we arrived. That makes it even more strange that she should have chosen Mr. Seymour when she might have had you. Even I, who once thought him the most handsome and charming of men, know he cannot measure up to you.”
His eyebrow rose. “Really, my dear. You amaze me. But what makes you think she has chosen Mr. Seymour?”
“Oh, because he always intended that we should elope together, you know. And I saw a woman leave the back of the house tonight dressed for travel with a hatbox in hand. She got into a traveling coach a short way down the drive and left.”
A cold, clutching sensation gripped Tyndale by the throat. It couldn’t have been Joanna.
But a moment’s reason told him that indeed it could have been. Would she really have carried her scheming so far as to run away with him with the intention of making him go his length only to rebuff him at the first opportunity and return home? Yes, certainly she might have. And as the moments passed, he became ever more certain that she had.
He stood, anxious to determine if it was true or not. His abrupt movement startled Phoebe into gasping.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To make sure that madcap woman doesn’t get herself into a situation she cannot get out of.”
“Madcap? I thought you loved her.”
“With all my being. Which is why she will hear a few choice words from me if she was imprudent enough to have done what I’m afraid she’s done.”
It took him nearly thirty minutes to ascertain from the stables that a hired coach and four had arrived at Havencrest from Brighton, and had then driven away again after a lady had gotten up into it. They could give him no further details about it except that she had entered it willingly.
“Devil confound the woman. Saddle my horse, please. And do so quickly—”
But as he spoke, the traveling carriage in question rolled up before the stables and one of the grooms ran forward to put the step down. Tyndale was right behind him, reaching up a hand to help the female passenger to alight. But to Tyndale's amazement and utmost appreciation, the face that stared back at him was not Joanna’s but that of Mrs. Pike.”
“Mrs. Pike?”
The elderly woman looked calmly back at him. “Of course it is. Who did you expect?”
“Well, Joanna.”
Mrs. Pike’s face shifted with satisfaction. “Calling her by her given name, are you? How interesting. And no, Joanna is much too canny for the likes of Mr. Seymour. He was so pleased with the success of his schemes and so anxious to make off with his love, he didn’t bother looking too closely at who climbed into his carriage. Of all the foolish knaves.”
“Well, that was certainly crafty of the two of you,” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “And did you not think that he might take his frustrations out on you when he discovered the trick you had played.”
“Oh, of course, I did. Which is why I had Mrs. Thorne’s pistol in my reticule. But I didn’t even need to pull it out because he was so overcome with shock when he saw me.”
“And how did that come about?” Tyndale asked, thinking that they couldn’t have gone long down the road before she made herself known to him.
“When we had gotten a good distance out of town and came upon a posting house, I knocked on the roof of the carriage so the driver would stop. Tyndale was riding alongside the carriage, but dismounted and opened the door to see what was wrong. Oh, heaven bless me, I hope I shall never forget the look of appalled horror on his face when he saw who I was. Lord bless me, but that was as delightful as Mrs. Thorne promised it would be.”
Tyndale felt his lips twitch despite himself. “I am very sure it was. Will you allow me to take you into the house?”
Mrs. Pike took his arm willingly and continued her tale. “And then you know, we were in a very public place and there was naught he could do to stop me from having his trunks unstrapped from the carriage. I left him there, gaping after me, for all the world like a stuffed dummy. Oh, let us hurry and find Joanna so we can tell her all about it.”
“Yes, let us. I have a few things to discuss with Mrs. Thorne myself.”
Chapter Fifteen
Joanna waited in one of Mrs. Garvey’s smaller sitting rooms as arranged between her and Mrs. Pike early that evening for that lady’s return. She held a book open on her lap, but couldn’t keep her attention on the words. Surely it was nearly time for her to return. Perhaps something had gone wrong and Mr. Seymour had carried her further away than they had intended. Or indeed, perhaps he had taken his anger out on her.
With the darkness outside and the long wait, she felt many more apprehensions over the whole plot than she had when devising it. So, when she heard footsteps outside the door and saw Mrs. Pike come in, her whole body flooded with relief. “Oh, thank heavens,” she said, realizing too late that she was not alone.
Lord Tyndale came in behind her. His expression was such that she knew in a flash that this was not going to be a pleasant conversation. Oh, dear.
“What is it?” Tyndale asked. “Had you grown apprehensive for Mrs. Pike’s well-being as you waited here in safety for her.”
Joanna stood, feeling at a disadvantage with him towering over her—especially since she knew she was in the wrong. “Yes, I did. There, are you pleased that I have admitted it? I shouldn’t have sent her.” She turned to Mrs. Pike then and said, “I am sorry, my dear. It was very wrong of me.”
“Nonsense,” the lady said, surprisingly cheerful. “I enjoyed it very much and am perfectly well. Indeed, my only regret is that it was my last adventure with you.”
That took Joanna aback. “Are you leaving me?”
Mrs. Pike nodded. “Well, not immediately, though I’ve no doubt it won’t be long if Lord Tyndale has the ordering of things. But do not worry, Mrs. Garvey has already invited me to come and live with her. We get on very well, you know, and she likes having a lady with sense, as she calls me, about the house to help her.”
Joanna went to her and gripped her shoulders. “But why are you leaving me? Was tonight so awful for you?”
“Not at all, as I said. Indeed, I am looking forward to telling you all about it. Mr. Seymour was every bit as astonished as we’d hoped he would be. However, Lord Tyndale has desired to have a few minutes speech with you so now is not the time.” Mrs. Pike then leaned forward and hugged Joanna. “Truly, there shall be many happy things for us to chat over before you go to bed, my dear. I shall see you soon.”
The realization that Mrs. Pike was orchestrating a proposal scene was then born forcibly upon her. “Eliza, if you so much as dare to leave me alone with him, I shall…I shall…” But she couldn’t think of a threat terrible enough.”
Tyndale, who had gone to stand before the fire, said in too cheerful a tone, “She is not only going to leave me alone with you, she is going to do so immediately.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Pike said. Then she giggled. “Yes, certainly.”
“But your job is to throw the men out when I want them gone,” Joanna called after her. “My sainted father, remember?”
But Mrs. Pike just smiled at her. “I do believe in the future it shall be your sainted husband who shall have care of you.” Before Joanna could say another word, she whisked herself out the door and shut it behind her.
“Well, at last. That woman talks far too much for my taste. Mrs. Garvey has earned my eternal gratitude for stealing her from you.” Then he came toward her, a determined gleam in his eyes that made Joanna feel even more flustered.
“If you dare to get on your knees before me, I shall hit you.”
“As delightful as that sounds, I have no intention of doing so. And I am not going to propose, so you may relax.”
His words sent a shock of pain through her that cut deep. She
flinched back, surprised at her own reaction. “You aren’t? Why not? I thought—”
“That I am in love with you? Well, and so I am, my darling. My heart is well and truly yours. But my feelings for you have not eroded my good sense to the point that I would give you the opportunity of refusing me. For you mean to do so, do you not?”
“You know very well I do,” she retorted, trying very hard to sound like she meant it.
“Yes. You see? So clearly that is not the best path forward for the success of this discussion. So let us skip that formal part and get on with arranging things.”
Joanna clasped her hands in front of her in an attempt to hide their shaking from his perceptive gaze. “What do you mean.”
“I mean your fortune, of course.”
Tensing at once, Joanna cried out. “My fortune. Why must we discuss that? If that is what you want from me you will never have it.”
He shrugged and pulled her hands apart, clasping them in his own. His were so warm and strong that she very nearly lost track of what they were arguing about until he said, “Then it is a good thing that I don’t want it. You know, I believe we should have a lawyer come up from town tomorrow before we announce our engagement at the ball. No doubt we can find someone capable of drawing up precisely the documents that will resolve this one small obstacle. We can have your entire fortune tied up in your name so that I cannot even touch it, and you may leave it to our children as you wish. Do you think you might wish to leave it equally to all the children or reserve it for the girls’ dowries? Of course, we may want it to be flexible since we cannot know how many sons and how many daughters we may have. Our eldest son, of course, will have no need of it, as he shall be very wealthy in his own right. But the rest of our children will never want for a good living either as many of my business holdings are apart from the entail. And we must think about whether or not we want to spend our lives chasing off fortune hunters if our daughter’s dowries are too great. No, now that I consider it, perhaps your fortune should go to charity.”
The Vexatious Widow (Regency House Party: Havencrest Book 2) Page 8