A Regency Charade (18 page)

The two ladies set about the enormous task of packing. Priss was determined that nothing belonging to Alec Tyrrell should find its way into their boxes; on the other hand, there were paintings and other household items which she’d brought with her to the house which she was equally determined he should not have. With her mother, she went through every room in the house, carefully sorting through all the furnishings and housewares to determine their ownership.

Mr. Hornbeck, with his talent for organization, his skill in management and his knowledge of the business of shipping goods, was an invaluable aid to them. He provided them with sturdy boxes, sound advice and the name of an honest drayman to transport their possessions to Derbyshire. And, in great embarrassment, he took Lady Vickers aside one evening and made a sincere, if awkward, offer of financial assistance “if yer ladyship should find yerself a wee bit scorched.” He assured her it would “pleasure me mightily” to aid her in this regard, since he was “nicely beforehand in the world and very well to pass.”

She laughingly turned the offer aside, assuring him that she was quite plump in the pocket, having been provided with an adequate, if not luxurious, jointure by her late husband. In secret, she
was
somewhat worried about financial matters, for prices had risen alarmingly since the war’s end, and she was not at all sure that her meager inheritance would be sufficient for the needs of both herself and her daughter since her daughter had completely stopped drawing on the account that Alec had always left at her disposal. However, it was a problem that they didn’t need to face at once. There was enough on their minds at the moment to worry over. The rest could wait.

Priss was busier and more active than she’d been in years. She moved through the days with a dogged energy, supervising the packing, helping to clean the rooms and cover the furniture with the Holland covers, writing to the housekeeper at Three Oaks to make certain all would be in readiness for their arrival, and paying calls on a few select friends to say her goodbyes. Lady Vickers was surprised and somewhat pleased to note that Priss began—as in the days of her come-out—to wear more daring gowns when she went out. She chose brighter colors, too, and put a dashing ostrich plume on her favorite bonnet. It was only when the girl emerged one evening from her dressing room (after being closeted with Lady Vickers’ hairdresser for two hours) with her hair cut short that Lady Vickers voiced an objection. Priss had done her hair in a style like the notorious Lady Caro Lamb. Her head was covered with soft, bouncy curls, none of them more than three inches long. “Aren’t you going a bit far, my dear?” she asked mildly.

“Perhaps. But I’m tired of looking like a dowd. Ariadne thinks I will look all the crack. Besides, if Rosalind Wilkes can walk about town with a muff as huge as a bear, and your niece Clio can appear in public in a garish, pink gown cut down to
here
, I can certainly be permitted to wear my hair like Caro Lamb.”

Lady Vickers withdrew her objections. Her daughter’s hairstyle was charming and made her look years younger. And if the gossips wanted to whisper about it, let them. In less than a week, they would be returning to Derbyshire. London gossip would make very little difference to them there.

With Priss driving everyone in the household to work at peak energy, the task of packing and closing the house was soon completed. But just when the last of the boxes was about to be tied, the last of the rooms to be swaddled with Holland covers and the last of the goodbyes to be said, a letter was delivered which threw the ladies into complete turmoil and threatened to undo all their plans.

It was addressed to Priss, and it was brought to the dining room—the last of the rooms to be closed—where Priss and Lady Vickers were packing the china. They had rolled up their sleeves and, enveloped in huge aprons, they had carefully wrapped and crated each piece of a one hundred and forty piece set of Worcester Royal Porcelain with the famous “willow” pattern which Lady Vickers had given to her daughter as a wedding gift. The task had just been completed when the footman came in with the letter. Lady Vickers instructed the footman to nail the lid on the fully packed crate, while Priss went to the window to read the missive. It was from the Earl.
My dearest granddaughter
, he’d written,
it has been so many weeks since I heard from you and Alec that I’ve begun to wonder what’s become of you. Of course, I’d lay odds that, after a separation of six years, a loving couple has a need to spend some time in seclusion. However, I will admit to a feeling of loneliness since Alec’s last visit, autumn being a season when one grows increasingly aware of the swift passage of time and the fragility of life. It makes one wish to have one’s family close by. Is it selfish of an old man to say these things
?

But I don’t mean to sound melancholy. In truth, I am very cheerful at the moment, having just had a visit from my doctor who tells me that I am much improved. This being the case, I would like to make a suggestion. Why don’t we open up Braeburn for a splendid house party, as we used to do before the wars? We have not properly celebrated Alec’s return, and since I am feeling relatively hale, this might be the most favorable time. We can invite some of your London friends
—
as many or as few as you like
—
and anyone else you may think of. I’d lay odds that we could have a rousing good time. It would certainly be a blessing for an old man to hear the sounds of merriment again in this quiet old house
.

If you and Alec favor the idea, write and let me know when you would find it convenient to make the trip, so that I can begin the preparations
.

Hoping this finds you both
—
and Lady Vickers, too, of course
—
in the very best of health, I remain your loving grandfather, Braeburn
.

Lady Vickers was so intent on preserving the china from destruction that she didn’t take her eyes off the footman until the fellow had put in the last nail. When she finally looked up, she was appalled to see her daughter staring out absently at nothing at all, her face a picture of intense distress. “My
dear
! What is it
now
?” she cried, waving the footman from the room.

“The Earl! How could I have forgotten—?” With a trembling hand she held the letter out to her mother. “The poor darling. How are we to
face
him now?”

Lady Vickers scanned the note quickly. “I didn’t know he’d been ill. He says he’s
improved
. Does that mean he’s on his way to a cure or that he’s contracted some lingering affliction?”

Priss shook her head as she sank upon the wooden packing case. “I don’t know. His heart has not been strong these last years. Perhaps he’s been stricken with an attack …”

“Good heavens, do you think so?” Lady Vickers began to pace about the room. “If his heart is weak, how will he stand the news that … that …?”

“Exactly! How can we
tell
him?”

Lady Vickers threw her daughter a look of dawning horror. “But how can we
not
tell him? If we are to live at Three Oaks—practically on his doorstep—he’s bound to find out!”

“Mama! The news might …
kill
him!”

Lady Vickers sank down beside her daughter. “He and your father wanted that accursed marriage for so long … and the Earl was so overjoyed that you and Alec were happy. It was the dream of a lifetime come true for him.”

Priss looked at her mother aghast. “What are we to
do
? We can’t possibly return to Three Oaks now!”

Later that afternoon, Kellam popped his head in the door of the drawing room but found only Garvin Danforth, in his shirtsleeves, seated in his favorite armchair reading a frayed copy of Virgil’s
Eclogues
in the original Latin. “Oh,” Kellam muttered, “ain’t the Cap’n ’ere?”

“He’s changing into his riding togs, as any good manservant ought to know for himself,” Gar responded, not looking up from the page.

“Well, I’m too busy bein’ butler an’ kitchen maid to be doin’ valet service too, y’know. Lady Vickers is ’ere t’ see ’im.”

“What,
again
?” Having been too deeply immersed in his reading, he was aware only of the “Vickers” in Kellam’s announcement, and thought Clio had returned. He dropped the book and leaped to his feet. “Are you letting her
in
? I
don’t
…” He paused, fingered his neckcloth nervously and said reluctantly, “Oh, very well. Tell her to come in here until Alec is ready.”

Kellam, who had been watching him with an expression that was obviously and offensively scornful, merely nodded and disappeared. By the time Lady Vickers was heard in the corridor, Gar had thrown on his coat, taken a quick look into the mirror over the mantelpiece and posed himself in a stance of casual welcome a few feet from the doorway. As soon as he heard a footstep and the rustle of a gown, he smiled, put out his hand and began the speech he’d hastily prepared: “Well, ma’am, didn’t you trust me to deliver your mes—?
Oh
!”

Lady Vickers’ surprise was as great as his. She blinked at him in complete puzzlement, but after a moment her brow cleared. “Mr.
Danforth
, of course! How very nice to see you after all these years. Were you saying something about delivering a
message
for me?”

Gar blushed, bowed awkwardly over her hand and stammered an incoherent apology. “
Lady
Vickers … delighted to see you … No, no message at all … just a bit of a misunderstanding. Won’t you sit down?”

Gar spent the next few minutes trying to make polite conversation, but he had been so disconcerted by his mistake that he continued to stumble and stammer. Fortunately, Alec appeared on the threshold almost immediately, buttoning his riding coat hastily, his brow wrinkled in puzzled concern. Gar quickly excused himself and left the room.

Alec didn’t waste a moment on amenities. “Is something wrong with Priss?” he asked tensely.

Lady Vickers, whose polite smile had faded the moment her estranged son-in-law had made his appearance, raised her eyebrows haughtily. “If there were, my lord,” she said coldly, “you would be the
last
person to whom I would turn. I believe you made it clear that you were no longer interested in matters relating to my daughter.”

“I shall always have such an interest, ma’am. I am not made of stone, you know. However, since it is not Priss’s health which brings you, may I ask to what I owe the honor of this visit?”

“Yes, you may. It is this.” She handed over to him the letter Priss had received earlier. “I believe that this is a matter which concerns you even more than it does us; therefore I decided to bring it to your attention.”

Something in her ladyship’s use of pronouns struck his ear. Before he opened the letter, he couldn’t resist asking, “Doesn’t your daughter know you’ve come?”

Lady Vickers’ eyes flickered and fell. “My daughter does not see fit to mention your name. I took it upon myself to come to you without mentioning it to her.”

“I see.” He opened the letter and read it through, shut his eyes in pain and read it again. Then he sat down on a chair opposite hers. “I’ve been shamefully neglectful,” he muttered, half to himself. “Do you have any idea what might be the nature of the illness he mentions?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Priss believes it is his heart.”

“His
heart
?” Alec ran a worried hand through his hair. “I had no idea—!”

Lady Vickers felt a small softening toward him. She leaned forward and patted his arm. “You needn’t blame yourself. The Earl
did
develop a weakness in his heart while you were abroad, but it was not thought to be incapacitating, and he made us promise not to tell you.
Now
, however, if it has become more serious, I thought you should be aware …”

“Yes. I thank you, Lady Vickers. It was thoughtful of you to come.”

“I didn’t come merely to inform you of the condition of the Earl’s health. There’s more to it.”

“You mean the party he suggests? We can make some excuse. I’ll go up and stay with him for a while. I can invent some reason why Priss isn’t with me.”

“You don’t understand. Priss and I had intended to return to Derbyshire ourselves. Permanently.”

Alec looked at her in considerable surprise. “Do you mean Three Oaks? But, I thought … that is, I was given to understand that Priss … and you, of course … were fixed in
London
permanently.”

“I don’t know why you should have been told such a thing. I, for one, never intended to remain in London after you had returned.”

“But Priss … surely she’s been … er … happy here, hasn’t she?”

“
Happy
? You must be mad! What had she here in London to make her happy?” Lady Vickers asked scornfully.

“But she has friends and … er … friends …” he said lamely. He couldn’t very well, he realized belated, suggest to her
mother
that Priss had a lover in the vicinity.

“Her London friends are quite beside the point, my lord. Now that matters between you have been—how shall I put it?—severed, she no longer
has
a London home. Naturally, she plans to return to Derbyshire with me.”

“No longer has a
home
? What on earth are you talking about?” Alec demanded, rising from his seat.

“Tyrrell House is
yours
, my lord, as well you know. Priss has no intention of—”

“Did she think I was going to
put her out
? Has she lost her
wits
? Of all the
muttonheaded
—!”

“Will you please stop shouting at me, Alec? None of this is
my
doing, you know. Besides, we are straying from the point.”

Alec sat down again and rubbed his eyes. “What point?”

Lady Vickers viewed him in considerable annoyance. “Haven’t you yet grasped it? You’ve placed my daughter and me in a very awkward situation. We are reluctant to return to Three Oaks if our appearance there will reveal to your grandfather the truth about your marriage. Yet we have no other choice—”

“You
have
another choice,” Alec said impatiently. “You can remain in London. At Tyrrell House.”