A Most Unconventional Match (17 page)

She smiled grimly, wondering how Sands would react when the interloping Mr Waterman started disposing of his master's treasures. Well, his master shouldn't have borrowed funds to buy them in the first place! Maybe instead of dismissing Gibbons, she ought to replace Sands, she thought defiantly.

The butler himself entered as she was locking up the strongbox. ‘A visitor to see you, Mrs Lowery.' Despite the note informing her it could not be Mr Waterman, none the less her senses jumped in anticipation before he continued, ‘I installed Sir Gregory in the blue salon.'

There was no hint on Sands's face of the frown he seemed to direct towards Mr Waterman. Elizabeth also recalled seeing, prominently displayed in Miss Lowery's room this morning, the flowers the baronet had sent her. Apparently the household considered it acceptable for Everitt's long-time friend to visit his widow and son.

By now it was nearly nuncheon. She might well as resign herself to not getting any painting done today and receive Sir Gregory. Though, she thought mutinously, after her wonderful excursion yesterday, if the baronet said a single disparaging word about Hal Waterman, she would show him the door!

‘I'll go in directly,' she told Sands, knowing—and not caring—that Sir Gregory's discriminating senses would probably be offended by her receiving him in her shabby painting dress.

She was an artist. A
serious
artist. If her garb offended him, so be it. A decided stomp to her step, she followed Sands to the blue salon.

‘L
izbet, how good of you to receive me!' Sir Gregory exclaimed, coming over to take her hand as she walked in. ‘I see you've been painting. I hope I didn't interrupt.'

His acknowledging her work and managing to utter that speech with only the faintest of flinches over her unfashionable attire soothed some of Elizabeth's irritation. ‘Thank you, Sir Gregory, for your kindness in calling. And, no, you didn't interrupt. The morning has been such a disaster, I never began.'

‘I thought you looked somewhat…perturbed,' he said, watching her with a discriminating eye. ‘What's amiss? I would be delighted to assist if I can.'

She had no intention of telling him Miss Lowery had reproved her for being in Mr Waterman's company or that the dog he'd given David had shredded the sheets. Perhaps she could, though, mention the problems among the servants. As master of several diverse households, he might have some useful advice.

‘I hesitate to trouble you over such a trifling matter,' she began.

‘I could never consider anything that disturbs your tranquillity “trifling”,' he responded.

Reassured by that, she continued, ‘There was a minor fracas among the staff, for which Sands believed I should dismiss my maid, although no real wrongdoing was proved against her. After hearing them both, I determined that she should stay, but Sands clearly resented having his opinion disregarded. Did I act rightly? I fear I have little experience in resolving such disputes.'

Sir Gregory frowned. ‘It is not the place of the servants to question what their mistress decides.'

Elizabeth sighed. ‘That may be true, but I do so hate having the peace of the household disturbed!'

‘Of course you do! Nor should you now be troubled by the sort of perturbation that, in the past, I expect Everitt settled before you were even aware of it.'

A pang of sadness resonated through her. Truly, when Everitt lived, she had never heard more than a hint of any problems among the staff. A fierce longing filled her for those lovely, carefree days when he and dear Amelia had so deftly handled all the household concerns, when she had felt cherished and comfortable and always secure.

‘Sands is involved, you said?' Sir Gregory continued, his frown deepening. ‘As the highest-ranking domestic in the household, he should know better than to dispute whatever resolution you decide upon. Would you like me to speak with him?'

How wonderful it would be to have tranquillity restored—and without her having to be any further involved in the process! Vastly tempted, she said, ‘You don't think it would make it worse to have an outsider intervene?'

Sir Gregory smiled. ‘I've run tame here since Everitt and I were boys! I hardly think Sands regards me as an “outsider”. Besides, knowing how close I was to his late master, he will believe my judgement represents what Everitt himself would have decreed. Having my support would only reinforce your authority.'

Relief welled up in Elizabeth. ‘Then, yes, I would be most grateful if you would speak with him.'

‘I shall be happy to do so. Men, even servants, can be rather forceful at times, I fear. 'Tis best for Sands to realise that though your husband no longer directs this household, you have not been left completely without a gentleman's advice and support. Shall you send for him?'

Feeling better already, Elizabeth rang the bell pull. A few moments later, Sands bowed himself in. ‘Shall I bring wine?' he asked.

‘In a moment,' Sir Gregory said. ‘First, Mrs Lowery tells me there has been a disagreement among the staff.' Bending a stern look upon the butler, he continued, ‘As their senior representative, I would expect you to set the example by upholding her judgement in every particular. Nor should you trouble your mistress, a lady in mourning whose tender sentiments are still so easily disturbed, with resolving petty disagreements that should never have occurred. I trust I need say nothing further?'

To Elizabeth's surprise, rather than seeming resentful of Sir Gregory's unexpected intervention, Sands's face reddened. ‘You are right, Sir Gregory,' he said, bowing deeply. ‘I beg your pardon.'

The baronet gestured towards Elizabeth. ‘'Tis Mrs Lowery to whom you should apologise.'

Sands turned and bowed again to Elizabeth. ‘I'm sorry if it seemed I was questioning your authority, ma'am. It won't happen again.'

‘Indeed, it had better not,' Sir Gregory said sharply. ‘We'll have that wine now.'

‘At once,' Sands said, making a hasty exit.

Elizabeth stared at the closing door, then looked back at Sir Gregory, both astonished and a little resentful of how quickly he'd cowed the butler. ‘How did you do that?'

Sir Gregory laughed. ‘Gentlemen wield authority much more convincingly than ladies. 'Tis the way of the world.'

Apparently donning trousers and a waistcoat made it easier to run a household, Elizabeth thought, still a bit indignant. None the less, she owed Sir Gregory her gratitude for improving Sands's attitude so speedily. ‘I am not so sure I approve of the world, then, but I do thank you.'

‘You are very welcome. And I cannot agree in disapproving of circumstances that allow a gentleman to be able to render assistance to a fair lady. Speaking of which, had I known you had steeled yourself to begin going about in public, I would have already invited you to go out. And would have chosen a venue more appealing to a lady than the smell of horses and dogs at Astley's.'

Startled, Elizabeth's gaze shot to the baronet's face. ‘How did you know I'd been to Astley's?'

‘Sands mentioned you'd spent all afternoon and into the evening there when he escorted me in,' Sir Gregory said. ‘I hope you didn't fatigue yourself.'

‘Sands concerns himself a good deal too much with what I do or don't do,' Elizabeth said with some heat.

‘Insomuch as he watches after your well being, I can't fault him,' Sir Gregory said.

‘'Twas an outing for David as well, and we didn't go just to Astley's. We also stopped by at the Royal Academy. I can't believe Everitt never took me there! The paintings were astounding, awe-inspiring! I could hardly wait to get back to my work today. Though sadly, assorted difficulties this morning prevented me from accomplishing anything.'

‘There is always tomorrow,' Sir Gregory said with an indulgent smile.

‘Yes, I'm so eager to continue.' Should she mention what Hal Waterman had recommended about her work? On the one hand, she hated to speak aloud of it, so new and fragile was the dream of announcing herself to the world as a serious artist. On the other hand, Sir Gregory was quite familiar with her paintings. If he considered her work as worthy of public viewing as Mr Waterman did, perhaps she ought to be bold enough to exhibit it.

She would ask him, she decided. Summoning all her courage, she said, ‘After we returned home, I showed Mr Waterman some of my paintings. He thinks them accomplished enough that he urged me to consider submitting something to the committee for possible inclusion in the Royal Academy's exhibition. Do…do you think I am skilful enough?'

‘Your work is charming! Though 'tis naughty of you to tease me by saying you plan to submit it for exhibition.'

Elizabeth stared at him. ‘I wasn't teasing. I
am
considering submitting work to the committee.'

Sir Gregory's smile faded. ‘You can't be serious.'

Elizabeth raised her chin. ‘And why can't I? I remember you saying my oil study of David was exceptional!'

‘Heavens, this has nothing to do with your skill! Surely you must know…' He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Apparently, living as removed from society as you have, you don't, though even as dreadfully unfashionable as he is, Mr Waterman certainly should! My dear, you couldn't possibly consider submitting your work to the Royal Academy! It's quite acceptable for a maiden of gentle birth to draw and paint for the amusement of her family and friends, but no genteel lady would do something so vulgar as exhibit her work in a public gallery! As if she were some…some Cit trying to attract a patron. 'Tis the purpose for which artists petition to show their work there, you know, hoping that men of wealth and discernment viewing the exhibition will be impressed enough to offer them commissions. Which in your case would be unthinkable!'

‘But I am an artist,' Elizabeth said, feeling the bright colour mount her cheeks. ‘I would be thrilled to paint on commission.'

‘My dear Lizbet, you don't know what you are saying! If Everitt were here, he would tell you as I do that you mustn't think of such a thing. Even if you were willing to face the scandal and reproach that would be directed at you personally, you must consider the effect such an action would have on the welfare of those dear to you. Lord Englemere's family would be humiliated; your youngest sister, who must even now be anticipating her upcoming Season, would have her chances to make a respectable alliance destroyed. And David! Only consider, my dear, the scorn that would be heaped upon him at Eton and Oxford as the son of a lady who so betrayed her birth as to work as a common portrait painter! It would hardly be worse for him were you to proclaim yourself a courtesan.'

Gritting her teeth, Elizabeth listened in silence as each dire pronouncement piled more weight on her fragile new dream, until it shattered into wistful fragments under the onslaught. Sir Gregory knew society well; there was no way she could dispute his arguments. And though she might not worry overmuch about what the
ton
thought of her, she could never do something that would embarrass her family—or ruin the prospects of her little sister or her beloved son.

As the baronet had said, surely Mr Waterman, little as he went about in society, would know these truths too. So why had he cruelly raised hopes he must have known could never be realised?

She stood there mutely, angry with him, with herself, her confidence shredded as effectively as Max had the household linens. Her vision of an exciting, productive future snuffed out before she had barely begun to formulate it, by the time Sir Gregory fell silent, Elizabeth was biting her lip to keep the tears from falling. It needed only this to put a cap on her day.

‘Ah, Lizbet, my dear, you mustn't cry,' he said gently, taking on his fingertip one of the tears that, despite her best efforts, had welled up at the corners of her eyes. ‘I shouldn't have spoken so harshly. But you can't imagine how surprised and distressed your pronouncement made me. I'm so sorry to have been the one who had to destroy your illusions.'

Still fighting the urge to weep, Elizabeth shook her head. ‘It doesn't matter,' she managed after a moment.

‘Poor dear, what a morning you have had! First the household imbroglio and now me scolding you. I know just the thing to help lift your spirits. Why not go for a drive with me this afternoon? Let the soothing vistas and fresh air of the park erase from your mind the upsetting circumstances of the day.'

Her mind still roiling with distress and grief for a dream she'd not until this moment realised meant so much to her, Elizabeth had no interest in driving. All she wanted to do was go up to her chamber and weep.

But as she shook her head, Sir Gregory said, ‘Now I know you are angry with me. Won't you allow me to make amends? We could stop for ices. I'd even gird myself to escort you past the shops so you might look at bonnets and such. My mama always said there was nothing that raised a lady's spirits faster than the purchase of a smart new bonnet. Come now, say you will go.'

Though Elizabeth had no interest at any time in purchasing finery, at the moment she felt too dispirited to contest his mama's assessment. The baronet was so insistently eager to make amends she simply couldn't summon the energy to resist. ‘As long as we are back in time for tea with Miss Lowery,' she agreed. Having been sufficiently abused already today, Elizabeth didn't wish to earn another chiding from that lady.

‘Of course. I stopped briefly to pay my compliments to Miss Lowery before Sands announced me. She expressed concern about your health and spirits after having been immured in the house for so long and urged me to see that you get out more. An admonition I am delighted to heed. Shall I call for you at three?'

So Miss Lowery, like Sands, had no objection to her being escorted by Sir Gregory, a gentleman well known to them. Apparently it was just the company of a relative stranger like Mr Waterman that excited their disapproval, Elizabeth thought dully.

It was nice of Sir Gregory to want to make up for upsetting her by telling her what was only the truth. And he had been amazingly efficient in settling the business with Sands. Since there was no chance that driving this afternoon would make her miss a visit from Hal Waterman—and at the moment, she wasn't even sure she wanted to see him again—she might as well go to the park.

‘Thank you, you are most kind.'

Sir Gregory bowed. ‘Excellent! I'll look forward to seeing you this afternoon, then.'

Nuncheon with David, who required reassurance that Max would not be banished to Lowery Hall for his misdeeds in the laundry yard, distracted her for a while, but the lead weight of discouragement had settled upon her once again by the time Sir Gregory returned for their drive.