by Jenny Hambly
Lady Crouch’s eyes narrowed. “How very kind of you. As it happens Emily is free this afternoon, but I could not let her go alone. Would there perhaps be room in your carriage for both of us?”
Eleanor said regretfully, “I am afraid not. I would, of course, have invited you also, Lady Crouch, if there had been. Lady Haverham will not go anywhere without her maid just at present, and there will not be room for five of us in the barouche.” She stood to take her leave. “I quite understand your reservations, Lady Crouch. It is a pity, for I am not sure how much longer we will be in Town. Thank you for your kind hospitality. It has been very pleasant to see you again, Miss Finchley. Goodbye.”
As she turned towards the door, Lady Crouch said, “Wait a moment, Miss Edgcott.”
Eleanor turned and raised an enquiring brow.
“I have reconsidered,” Lady Crouch said. “I feel sure I can trust my dear niece to you and Lady Haverham.”
“We will take very good care of her.” She offered Miss Finchley a friendly smile. “We shall pick you up at half past four, if that suits you, Miss Finchley?”
“I shall be ready,” Miss Finchley said, coming forwards and taking the hand Eleanor was holding out to her.
She said no more but she did not need to; Eleanor could see both relief and gratitude in her eyes.
Chapter 18
When Eleanor returned to South Audley Street, she discovered Mr Pavlov had called and left his card. She stood for a moment in the hall looking down at it, chewing her bottom lip as she sometimes did when she was thinking. She had only meant to see if she could discover Miss Finchley’s feeling towards him today, but it suddenly occurred to her that if the young lady did return his regard, it would be the perfect opportunity for them to speak with each other.
She took the card upstairs with her and dashed off a note to Mr Pavlov before going to see Diana. She found her idly tinkling the keys of the pianoforte in the drawing room.
“I have not heard you play since we came to Town,” Eleanor said.
“No, there have always been so many other things to do.” Diana gave her a small smile. “I thought that there was nothing that I enjoyed more than racketing about Town, but I think I am beginning to look forward to going back to Standon.”
Eleanor sat on the stool beside her. “Nothing is as much fun when you are not in the best of health.”
“It is not just that,” Diana said quietly. “I have been thinking about all that you have done for me and all that you are going to do for yourself.” She sighed. “I wish that I was more like you, Eleanor.”
“That would not do at all,” Eleanor said, laughing. “Frederick would not like it if you turned into a managing female!”
“No,” Diana said. “I will never be that. But I think I could manage better than I do. Mrs Finley brought me a glass of hot milk after you had gone – dear Freddy asked her to – and when I suggested we discuss the menu for dinner, she said there was no need for me to bother my head as you had already done so.”
“I always do so.”
“Yes, I have imposed upon you dreadfully whilst I have thought of nothing but my own pleasure.”
“You have not imposed on me,” Eleanor said, taking her hand. “Or if you did, it was only because I let you. I wanted to be busy; it stopped me thinking about Papa and made me feel useful.”
Diana squeezed her hand. “Is it still so terribly painful?”
“Only sometimes,” Eleanor said.
“Then, would you mind very much if I take back the reins of my household?”
“I would be delighted,” Eleanor said firmly.
“Thank you.” Tears misted Diana’s eyes. “It was only when I thought I might lose my lord’s good opinion forever that I realised how much I could not bear for that to happen. He has given me so much, and I have given him so little.” She wiped at her eyes and sat a little straighter. “I intend to make him very comfortable and take more of an interest at Standon. Do you know, Eleanor, I do not even know what his favourite dishes are?”
Eleanor smiled. “Talk to your housekeeper and ask her advice. You are a little starched up with the servants, and you will find they will respond much better if you unbend a little.”
“I have always felt a little out of my depth,” Diana admitted, “but I had a very nice talk with Mrs Finley today, and I discovered I enjoyed it.”
“I am glad,” Eleanor said. “Diana, do you trust my judgement?”
“Of course.”
“Then will you trust me when I tell you that I am sure the lady you saw in Lord Sandford’s carriage is not his mistress and that she is a dear little thing who might need our help?”
“In what way does she need our help?” Diana asked, cautiously.
“I think her aunt, Lady Crouch—”
Diana gasped. “Eleanor! We can have nothing to do with them.”
“We are not going to have anything to do with Lady Crouch,” Eleanor reassured her. “Only Miss Finchley.”
When she had explained Mr Pavlov’s situation, Diana looked thoughtful.
“I can think of only one reason Lady Crouch would spurn the advances of such a respectable gentleman,” she said slowly, “and that is if she had someone else in her eye.”
“And I think we can both guess who that might be,” Eleanor said gently. “And you of all people know how persistent he can be.”
Diana’s eyes hardened. “Very well, Eleanor. I shall withhold any judgement on Miss Finchley until I have seen her myself.”
They took Linny rather than Diana’s maid, and both she and Diana stiffened as Lady Crouch, quite unable to resist the opportunity to speak with Lady Haverham, brought Miss Finchley out of the house.
“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Haverham,” she said, inclining her head. “What a pretty picture you all make. I am not at all sure I should let Emily go with you, for if you don’t have every park saunterer ogling you, I will own myself amazed.”
When Diana did not reply and gave only the frostiest of nods, Eleanor said quickly, “You may be sure, ma’am, that we would not pay them any heed, and Mrs Linwood here, would certainly know how to deal with any gentleman who dared to approach us.”
Lady Crouch eyed the rigid, stern-faced maid and said dryly, “I can well believe it.”
As they began to drive away, Eleanor said, “Miss Finchley, let me introduce my cousin, Lady Haverham.”
Diana’s expression thawed a little as Miss Finchley raised her bowed head to reveal two spots of flaming colour in her cheeks and eyes brimming with mortification.
“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Haverham,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“And I yours,” Diana said gently. “Please do not look so alarmed, Miss Finchley.”
These words did not have the intended effect, for Miss Finchley suddenly gave a strangled sob, slid off her seat, and sat in a huddle at Diana’s feet.
“Miss Finchley! Please, compose yourself,” Eleanor said.
They were now driving along Piccadilly towards the park, which at that hour of the day was always crowded with carriages. Eleanor looked over her shoulder to see what might have caused Miss Finchley to behave in such an odd manner. She saw Lord Sandford’s curricle coming in the other direction. She hastily pulled off her shawl and dropped it over Miss Finchley’s cowering form.
“Do not look,” she said as Diana began to twist in her seat.
Diana’s eyes widened as the curricle swept past them.
“You may take your seat again,” Eleanor said gently. “He has gone.”
As Miss Finchley dutifully began to rise, Diana pushed her gently back down again.
“No. Wait a moment more, if you please.”
The next carriage to pass them held Lady Langton and her sister. They exchanged nods, but fortunately, the road was far too busy to allow them to pull up and exchange any speech.
“You may get up now,” Diana said when they had mo
ved some distance away.
Linny put out her hand and helped Miss Finchley to arise from her cramped position.
“I am sorry,” she said in trembling accents, “you must think me quite mad.”
They had by now reached Green Park. The carriage pulled up and the ladies alighted.
“Come back in an hour,” Eleanor said to the coachman.
They had gone no more than a few steps into the park, when Diana said, “Miss Finchley, has that man, for I will not call him a gentleman, done something to cause you to almost lose your senses?”
Miss Finchley’s eyes darted uncertainly to Eleanor.
“You may speak freely. Nothing you say to us will go any further and we will help you if we can,” she assured her. “We know that Lord Sandford took you up in his curricle the day I first met you.”
“Yes,” Miss Finchley said. “I had twisted my ankle, you see. I thought it very kind of him at first, but then he looked at me in such a way, oh, I cannot explain it.”
“You need not,” Diana said, “I quite understand.”
Miss Finchley threw her a grateful look. “And then my aunt encouraged him to call on me and take me out driving. She was delighted that I had caught the attention of a marquess.”
“But you do not seem to share her delight,” Diana said.
“No, I do not,” she said, her usually soft voice, surprisingly vehement.
“And yet you have entertained him at your house and allowed him to escort you about town,” Diana said gently.
“I did not wish to,” Miss Finchley said, tearfully. “But my aunt became very angry when I said I would not. She said I should be grateful to her for putting such an opportunity in my way, but I have never liked him.” She gulped and tried to overcome the feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. “I had thought my aunt only had my best interests at heart, but… but...” Her voice wobbled. “I have discovered I have been quite mistaken in her. Last night we went to Vauxhall and he… he…”
“Kissed you?” Diana said helpfully.
Miss Finchley nodded and searched in her reticule. She pulled a handkerchief from it and mopped at her streaming eyes and blew her nose.
“I n-nearly swooned, and h-he just laughed and said he would wait, b-but not for much longer. H-he said he had a nice little c-cottage not far from London where I would be v-very comfortable.”
“And what did your aunt say to this?” Eleanor asked.
“I thought she would be shocked, but she boxed my ears and said that I was n-not in a position to be so choosy and that there was more than one way to catch a g-gentleman if only I learned how to p-please him.” Her cheeks flooded with colour. “She t-told me that she was Sir Roger’s mistress before he wed her. Now I understand why Papa and Mama would have nothing to do with her. But I did not know, and she was so kind to me at first that when Mr Nutley, who was my father’s solicitor, asked me if I wanted to go with my aunt, I said yes.”
“It is very bad,” Eleanor said. “But perhaps your aunt, although misguided, is fond of you in her own way. She has spent a great deal in bringing you to Town and fitting you out in the latest style.”
“She has not!” Miss Finchley cried. “She has used the money my papa left me, and it is now nearly all gone!”
Linny had been walking a few steps behind, but she suddenly burst out, “It’s downright unchristian, that’s what it is.”
Eleanor had not failed to note that Miss Finchley had not once mentioned Mr Pavlov’s name, and as they were now approaching the fountain near the Queen’s Walk, where she had asked him to wait, she said, “And is there no other gentleman who has taken your fancy, Miss Finchley?”
Miss Finchley gave a great sob and came to a standstill as if paralysed by her emotions. “Yes! Oh yes!” she spluttered. “There was a gentleman who was so gentle, so handsome, and I thought… I thought that he admired me, but he suddenly stopped calling.”
“No, Miss Finchley, he did not,” Eleanor said. “Your aunt refused him admission when he came calling.”
Eleanor felt sorry for Miss Finchley, but she privately thought her a milky sort of girl, and so she was surprised when the drenched eyes before her suddenly hardened and flashed with unmistakable anger.
“How dare she? How dare she?”
“I think your aunt would dare almost anything,” Eleanor said, quietly. “But look ahead, Miss Finchley.”
She did so and saw a tall, slim, blond figure. “Mr Pavlov!”
For a moment they stood like statues, each devouring the other with their eyes, and then both burst into sudden motion. Mr Pavlov caught her to him, and Miss Finchley melted into his embrace.
Eleanor was surprised to hear Linny give a sniff.
“You know I don’t normally hold with you interfering in other people’s business, Miss Eleanor, but if that gentleman is going to marry Miss Finchley, you have done a very good thing this day.” She looked at Diana. “Both of you have.”
“Perhaps the best thing I have ever done for anyone else,” Diana said, her eyes misty. “I must admit to feeling a rather happy glow inside.”
Eleanor was aware only of a feeling of satisfaction at a plan well executed. She could not help but wonder if she was lacking in some way. Although she had loved her father, their relationship had not been one of cloying embraces, even when she was a child. There had been an almost uncanny channel of communication between them that had been beyond words, a look, smile, or grimace, had been enough to convey their feelings. They had talked, of course, on any number of things, nothing had been taboo, and their conversations had always been frank and frequently laced with humour.
He had not raised her as if she had been a boy, precisely, but neither had he attributed to her a feminine delicacy that she did not possess. He had encouraged her to have an enquiring mind and fostered the independent spirit that had been hers from an early age. It had been very hard for her when he had lain dying and she had not been able to go near him, for his presence had always felt like an extension of herself, and she had felt as if a limb had been torn from her when he died, but even then, she had not been overcome by an excess of sensibility. Her heart had been frozen within her, but she had calmly discussed with his secretary the arrangements for her journey home.
He had always told her to follow her instincts, insisting that they were her greatest gift, and so she had gone to the house in Scotland and licked her wounds in private. She was not unfeeling, but neither did she seem to possess the finer feelings that were expected in a young lady of quality. Hysterics and swooning alike were quite unknown to her.
For several minutes they had walked at some distance behind the couple, who were oblivious of everyone else about them, their heads bent closely towards each other as they spoke earnestly in hushed tones, but Eleanor judged it was time to return to their carriage. She quickened her steps until she came up to them. Mr Pavlov turned to her and grasped her hands.
“How can I ever thank you, Miss Edgcott?”
She smiled at him. “What are you going to do, Mr Pavlov?”
“I am going to take her to Aunt Jemima, and then I am going to marry her.”
Diana, clearly swept away by the romance of the occasion, said in awed but not disapproving tones, “An elopement!”
“No,” he said, frowning, “I will not behave in such an underhand way, but neither will I allow Miss Finchley,” he smiled down at her, “Emily, to remain under her roof another night.”
“Then what are you going to do?” Eleanor said.
“I shall take Emily home and wait whilst she collects her things. I shall explain to her aunt exactly what I think of her and what I intend to do.”
“But do you think she will let her go?” Diana said.
“As I have told Emily, she will not be able to stop me. I do not believe for one instant that Lady Crouch is Emily’s guardian in any formal way; Emily was nearly twenty when her parents died, and even if she is, I shall threaten her with exposure for immoral beh
aviour if she tries to take any sort of action.”
“Then you are nearly of age,” Eleanor said, surprised. She seemed younger.
“I will turn one and twenty next week,” she said.
“Miss Edgcott, Lady Haverham,” Mr Pavlov said, “I know I should not ask any more of you, but I will have to set my affairs in order and will not be able to leave town until tomorrow. I do not wish to leave Emily alone at a hotel. Could I bring her to you for tonight?”
Eleanor baulked a little at this, but strangely, Diana did not.
“Certainly, you may,” she said. “But I would rather you did not mention her whereabouts to Lady Crouch.”
“No, I shall give her the impression we are leaving this very day,” he promised.
“Diana,” Eleanor said as they returned to the carriage. “What about Frederick?”
“I think you underestimate, Frederick, and me for that matter. You are not the only one who can think of a plan, you know.”
“Go on,” Eleanor said, intrigued.
“Has it not occurred to you, Eleanor, that Miss Finchley looks rather like me. Our colouring is almost identical, although her hair is more golden than mine.”
“Yes, I suppose that is true.”
“And she has such a modest manner and shy demeanour that Frederick will only have to spend a very little time in her company before he realises what a sweet girl she is.”
“Of course,” Eleanor said. “And we will only tell him of her circumstances after he has already taken a liking to her. All his chivalrous instincts will be aroused.”
“Exactly,” Diana said. “But it is I who shall tell him of her circumstances, Eleanor, not you.”
“You are right! When he sees you are not shocked, he will not be overruled by an overwhelming desire to shield you from one who is so closely connected to Lady Crouch.” Eleanor laughed. “You sly thing, Diana. He is bound to also admire you for the kindness and consideration that you have shown Miss Finchley!”
Diana raised a brow. “And will I not have deserved his approbation?”