A Lady of Notoriety (The Masquerade Club) (13 page)

His family was faring well. That helped ease his discontent.

* * *

Conversation at dinner covered discussion of children, Parliament, the Masquerade Club, Rhys’s steam-engine factories and Xavier’s shops. Ned and their mother wanted to hear details of the disentangling of their father’s affairs in Brussels, what Hugh had done and how much he’d needed to spend. No one asked Hugh about his own affairs. They rarely did, he suddenly realised, but this evening he was grateful. This evening he did not wish to speak of his own affairs—his brief liaison with Daphne.

Dessert was served. Baskets of cakes, bowls of fruit and, most distracting to Hugh, dishes of marzipan. Mason and Higgley poured champagne. When they were finished, General Hensen stood.

He held his glass of champagne. ‘Your mother and I have an announcement.’

Conversation ceased.

He gazed down at her and reached for her hand. ‘I want you all to know that your mother has made me the happiest man on earth. She has consented to marry me.’

‘Ooooh.’ Adele clapped her hands in delight. ‘That is such happy news.’

Ned frowned. ‘When do you plan to marry? A year has not yet gone by. You must not marry before waiting the full year of mourning, Mama. The family must not be subjected to more scandal.’ Ned was the arbiter of everything correct in the family. In that sense he was the direct opposite of their father.

None the less, their mother tossed Ned an annoyed look. ‘Of course we will wait a year. We decided to announce our betrothal now, though, so we may be seen together without talk.’

Hugh suspected there had already been plenty of talk, but why not seize happiness when it was offered? ‘If this makes you happy, Mother, it is good news,’ he told her.

She gave Hensen a loving look. ‘It makes me very happy.’

‘I propose a toast.’ Hensen raised his glass. ‘To your mother. May she never regret saying yes. May I succeed in making her every day happy.’

Congratulations and good wishes broke out from everyone. They’d always been united in support of their mother’s happiness—unless she was telling them how to live. She’d been appalling to Phillipa in that regard. Cruel, even. Amazing that Phillipa appeared to have forgiven her.

They ate cakes and drank champagne and soon the ladies retired to the drawing room. Hensen went with them. Mason poured brandy for Hugh, Ned and Rhys. Higgley removed the baskets of cake, but left the fruit and marzipan.

Hugh took two pieces of marzipan, one shaped like a strawberry, the other like a pear, and rolled them in his fingers. The scent of the confection and of the brandy brought him back to the cottage drawing room and evenings he and Daphne had shared.

Damnation! Could he never stop thinking of her?

‘I am glad we are all here.’ Rhys’s voice broke Hugh’s reverie. ‘Because I want to discuss the Masquerade Club. I must give it up. You see, I need to spend too much time at the factories now. I’ve asked Xavier to take it over, but he cannot.’

‘I wish I could assist you.’ Xavier looked regretful. ‘Time simply won’t permit.’ He was too busy investing in shops and employing out-of-work soldiers.

‘This cannot be.’ Ned’s eyes darted around in panic. ‘We cannot give it up now. We still need the revenue. We are not yet on firm footing. One bad crop and we’ll be under again.’

Rhys shook his head. ‘I cannot run the place any longer. I simply cannot. As it is now I never see Celia or the children.’

‘I cannot do it.’ Ned’s voice grew strident. ‘Not only would it be unseemly for a peer to run a gaming house, but I am already buried in estate matters and Parliament. And now with the baby coming—’ He broke off and turned his gaze on Hugh. ‘You must do it, Hugh.’

‘Oh, no. Not me.’ Hugh put up a hand. He’d already devoted the years since the war to family needs. ‘I have other plans.’

‘What plans?’ Ned demanded. ‘What could be more important than preserving the family fortune and ensuring the well-being of our people?’

Put that way, travel seemed a petty ambition.

‘You must help us. There is no one else.’ Ned shifted in his chair.

‘You know enough about the business now,’ Xavier added. ‘It will not be difficult.’

‘You may always consult me,’ Rhys added. ‘I certainly can be available to advise you on the running of the place.’

‘And if Rhys is out of town, I will assist you,’ Xavier added. ‘I can do that much.’

‘You must do it, Hugh,’ Ned insisted, his legs shaking nervously. ‘You are the only one of us at liberty to take it on.’

‘But—’ Hugh began.

Ned cut him off. ‘Meet with me tomorrow and I’ll show you the ledgers. We cannot abandon the club now, not when solvency remains at stake. I’ll prove to you how our situation stands. Our father’s latest business in Brussels managed to cost us a great deal, as you well know. It has put stress on the finances.’ His voice turned despairing. ‘You must do this, Hugh.’

Hugh closed his eyes and sipped his brandy, but that only brought him back to peaceful evenings in the cottage with Daphne. He blinked and scanned the three pairs of eyes anxiously staring at him.

What was the use? He would be unhappy on his travels, thinking he’d abandoned his family in their time of need. He certainly knew the pain of being abandoned. Besides, what did any of it matter? He might as well be unhappy in London. He might as well make his family happy, even if he could not be.

He blinked again and sipped more brandy. ‘Very well. I will do it.’

Chapter Thirteen

D
aphne stared at the calendar and realised it had been exactly one month since she’d left Hugh. It was remarkable to think so much time had passed and she’d managed to endure it without falling into complete despair.

She thought of him much too often. Wondering where he was. On some ship bound for a distant shore? Or in a carriage on the Continent on a more tried and true course? Would he travel through the valley in Switzerland? Would he pass by the whitewashed walls of Fahr Abbey?

Wherever he was, she wished him happy. She hoped he had forgotten her.

She pulled up the sleeve of her robe and tapped her finger on the desk. Sitting in her bedchamber sipping a cup of chocolate, not yet dressed, she reviewed her list for the day. She’d begun creating lists of tasks to accomplish each day. It helped to make her busy. If she did not fill her day with several things she must accomplish, she was at the mercy of that ever-lurking despair.

‘Good advice, my dear, dear abbess,’ she said aloud. The abbess had often told her that busy hands were happy hands.
Happy
was too much to hope for in Daphne’s case. Daphne no longer aspired to happiness.

Instead, she resolved to do good works, starting with her own property. Her husband had left her this small estate in Vadley in lieu of a dower house. When he died and his second cousin’s son had inherited Faville House, she’d come here to wait out her grieving period before searching for Xavier. This estate had not been home then, but now she was determined to make it so.

The day after she arrived in Vadley, she’d sent for Mr Quigg, the estate manager, and asked him to take her on a tour. She wanted to meet all her tenants and employees and learn their names, like Hugh had said of his mother, Lady Westleigh.

To her shock, she’d found tenant cottages in need of repair, hungry children and struggling people. Her husband’s financial arrangements for this estate had not accounted for the current difficult economic times. Or perhaps that had been her fault. She’d been the one responsible since her husband’s death. In any event, not enough money had been allotted for the tenants and workers to live comfortably and to have enough food for their children. The bank that managed his money, now hers, had ignored the manager’s request for more revenue. Had she ignored the man, as well?

Stinging with still more guilt, Daphne had immediately sent a letter to the bank, via her man of business, approving the funds.

The money was released and improvements were underway, but her man of business was travelling to Vadley to discuss the matter with her. He was expected to arrive today.

Dear Mr Everard. He’d been so devoted and she had taken such advantage of him. He’d escorted her to the Masquerade Club almost every night when she’d been in pursuit of Xavier. She dreaded his arrival. Seeing him again would remind her of how badly she’d behaved.

To think, if she’d not behaved so badly, she and Hugh might have remained together. She dropped her head into her hands.

But then they would not have met.

Trust God’s plan,
the abbess had told her. Many times.

There was a knock on the door and Monette entered. ‘Good morning, my lady. Are you ready to dress?’

Daphne stood. ‘I suppose I had better do so.’

Monette brought her a blue-madras day dress and helped her into it. When Monette stood in front of Daphne to straighten out the skirt, Daphne noticed her eyes were red. ‘Monette! Have you been weeping?’

Fat tears immediately brimmed on the young woman’s lids. ‘Perhaps a little, my lady.’

Daphne felt her own tears, the ones that were never far from the surface, sting her eyes. ‘Whatever is distressing you, Monette? You must tell me.’

Monette wiped her eyes with her apron. ‘I—I am missing someone. That is all.’

The young woman had changed her whole life. Daphne could understand that it would be sometimes difficult. ‘You are missing Fahr? Some of the nuns in the Abbey? I miss them, too.’

Monette shook her head. ‘It is not the nuns—I mean—I do miss them, but I did not want to be there. It does not make me cry to not see them.’

‘Who, then?’ Had there been someone in Switzerland who’d been important to her?

‘I—I am homesick for the cottage. The people there. I liked it there.’ She stifled a sob.

‘I liked it there, too,’ Daphne said, her voice low, the ache inside her growing.

Monette gestured for Daphne to sit at the dressing table. She stood behind Daphne and combed out her hair. ‘How do you endure being away from Mr Westleigh? I mean—I know—you—you—were lovers. How did you bear leaving him?’

The dagger always in Daphne’s heart twisted. ‘I told you that I had to leave. He could not know who I was.’

‘I know, but you did not wish to leave him, did you?’ Monette arranged Daphne’s hair into a simple knot.

‘No.’ Daphne’s throat tightened. ‘I did not wish to leave him. I had to. It was for the best.’

Monette stuck pins in her hair.

Daphne glanced up at Monette’s reflection in the mirror. ‘But you are not weeping for Mr Westleigh.’

The maid coloured. ‘No.’ She stepped back, her head bowed. ‘It is Toller I miss the most.’

‘Toller?’ Daphne had had no idea.

‘We became friends.’ Monette glanced up at her. ‘Remember when we went to the village together and I asked you about women and men?’

‘I remember.’ She’d thought Monette, who’d grown up amongst celibate women, had been trying to figure out Daphne’s relationship with Hugh.

‘I was talking about Toller. I liked him very much, but in a different way than I liked Mary and Ann.’

‘I see.’ She understood that
different
way only too well.

‘And I miss him!’ Monette burst into tears.

Daphne left her chair and held the maid in her arms, like the abbess had once held her. What else did she know of comforting? ‘There, there.’ She felt as if Monette’s pain were hers. It was all she could do to keep from weeping herself.

‘I wish Toller were here!’ Monette wailed.

‘I could send for him.’ The words were out of her mouth before she even thought of them. ‘I could send a letter to Thurnfield and ask if he would like to come work for me here. Would you like that?’

Monette pulled away, a huge smile on her face. ‘Oh, yes!’

Daphne walked over to her bureau and pulled out a handkerchief. She handed it to Monette. ‘I will write the letter this very day.’

* * *

Daphne finished the letter to Toller, posting it in care of Mr Brill, the leasing agent in Thurnfield, who she knew would put it into the young man’s hands.

She soon heard a carriage. No doubt Everard had arrived.

She stood and straightened her spine. She could face him, this man she’d so misused. If she could face the pain of leaving Hugh, she could face anything.

Carter soon announced him and Everard walked in the drawing room.

‘My lady.’ His voice cracked. ‘It—it is a privilege to call on you.’

She extended her hand to him. ‘Everard. I am delighted to see you.’ It was not precisely true, but she’d not forgotten how to sound sincere.

He took her hand and merely squeezed her fingers.

Carter waited at the door.

‘Would you bring some tea, Carter?’ She turned to Everard. ‘Or do you wish to rest from your journey?’

‘I would be grateful for tea,’ he replied. ‘I will rest later at the inn.’

‘The inn?’ She signalled Carter to bring the tea. ‘I will not hear of it. You must stay here. I have a room ready for you.’

‘Here?’ Everard looked about, as if the drawing room were where he would be sleeping. ‘I do not wish to put you to any trouble on my behalf.’

‘Nonsense!’ she retorted. ‘You will be no trouble and it will make conducting our business so much easier.’

‘Very well.’ He bowed. ‘I do thank you.’

She asked questions about his health and he asked about hers and she wondered when he would start to scold her for lavishing so much of her capital on improvements for the tenants and the workers.

He waited until they settled down with tea. ‘As you know, there was great concern about your decision to deplete your capital.’

‘I hardly depleted it,’ she countered.

‘Forgive me.’ He inclined his head. ‘An unfortunate choice of words. Diminish, I meant. I fear you might not comprehend how these matters work. Once you spend the capital, you cannot get it back. It is best to leave the capital in the four per cents and other investments and live on the income.’

‘I do understand, Everard.’ She continued to use her charming voice. ‘But a great deal of money was required, and I still have plenty in the investments, do I not? One would still call me a wealthy widow, would they not?’

‘You do have plenty of capital,’ he admitted. ‘But it is imperative that you do not pull it out for frivolous spending.’

‘For improvements to the farm buildings?’ She made herself laugh. ‘Is property not the best investment?’ She smiled and looked directly into his eyes. ‘My husband always said so.’

He blushed and noisily stirred his tea. ‘You know I dislike countering your judgement in any way, my dear lady, but after your husband died, I pledged to make certain your welfare was protected in all ways.’

It was her turn to feel the heat of shame tinge her cheeks. The man was devoted to her. It was why he’d agreed to accompany her to the Masquerade Club. It had not occurred to her that he would see her purpose in any manner different than her own. She’d assumed she and Xavier should be together because they made such a pretty-looking couple. Everard must have thought her foolish and frivolous, and she had behaved shabbily by making the poor man come with her night after night. She’d never considered that he must have had to work during the day.

She lowered her gaze and dropped her charming voice. ‘I am very grateful to you for it.’

He pulled at his neckcloth. ‘As you can imagine, I was quite concerned about your travel to the Continent and your—your extended stay in Switzerland—’

He’d known she’d stayed in a convent. He had written concerned letters to her to return to society, as well as letters pertaining to business, of course. She’d written back, assuring him that she was doing well and trusting him to take care of matters in her absence. He’d been the only person with whom she’d corresponded.

‘My stay in Switzerland was good for me,’ she told him.

He looked embarrassed again. ‘I have no doubt...’ He quickly drank some tea.

She handed him a plate of biscuits. ‘If you are up to it after our tea, I will have Mr Quigg, my estate manager, take you on a tour of the property and show you where the money is being spent, then we can discuss the matter further.’

She knew he would not refuse. Everard never refused anything she asked of him.

* * *

Daphne did not see Everard again until dinner.

After the soup was served, she asked in her charming tone, ‘So what did you think of how my money is being spent?’

He slurped soup from his spoon before answering, ‘I cannot argue with what you have done except to say you might have been a bit extravagant.’

She lifted a disapproving brow. ‘Oh?’

He sputtered. ‘I mean—I confess to being surprised at your exceptional generosity to your workers and tenants. You might have confined your spending to essential repairs only, and you need not have lowered the rents and increased the salaries.’

In other words, he valued money over the comfort of those people on whom the prosperity of the estate depended. Once she might have agreed—or, rather, she would not have given the people one moment of thought.

She dipped her spoon into her soup. ‘What did Mr Quigg say about it?’

He lifted his shoulders. ‘He spoke with ebullience about all that you have done, saying it was a long time coming.’ He frowned. ‘But I must be concerned for your welfare. You must not give your fortune away.’

Why not? So far, being generous had helped her feel she’d atoned for her selfishness. She’d never experienced that sort of satisfaction purchasing jewels or clothing or any such thing. And he had never scolded her for throwing away her money at the gaming tables of the Masquerade Club.

But to argue this point with Everard would certainly distress him. Discussing the Masquerade Club would distress her.

She favoured him with one of her most amiable smiles. ‘If you will but indulge me these whims from time to time, I promise you, I will trust you to warn me if I ever spend too much.’

He flushed. ‘I am ever your faithful servant.’

Carter and a footman—named Finn, Daphne had learned—served the next course and she and Everard spoke in more detail about the improvements. Everard did not presume to do anything but praise the work she had approved, and the time passed more pleasantly.

When the apple tart was served and more wine poured and the conversation about the estate exhausted, Daphne groped for other topics to discuss. ‘What of you, Mr Everard? Tell me how you are faring. What is happening in your life?’

‘Me?’ He flushed again. ‘I am doing well enough. Business is tolerably good.’

‘I am delighted to hear it.’ She’d not thought of it before. He must have other clients to assist. She knew very little of him, she realised. ‘And—and do you have family? I suddenly am aware that I do not know. I am sorry for never asking before.’

His eyes widened in surprise. ‘Why should you ask, my lady?’ He sipped his wine. ‘But, as a matter of fact, I have taken a wife in this last year.’

‘You are married?’ She loved the idea that this sweet man might have found the happiness that escaped her. ‘How wonderful for you! Tell me about your wife.’

He answered in a serious tone. ‘She comes from a good family. Her father is in banking and that is how we met.’

‘No,’ she scolded. ‘Tell me about
her
! Is she pretty? Is she accomplished?’ Goodness. Those were Daphne’s own qualities. They might have made her a desirable wife, if not a very good person.

He lifted his gaze to her. ‘She is not beautiful like you.’

Oh, dear. Certainly she did not intend to go in that direction.