Allison Lane (16 page)

“That is part of it, I suppose.  But his first goal is wealth.  He never forgave Grandfather for losing the family fortune.  Though he attended good schools, his allowance was smaller than the other boys received, making him the butt of many jokes.  It hardened him, according to Grandmother, feeding his determination to recoup.  So he threw himself at the most prominent heiresses in England, earning a name as a flagrant fortune hunter.  Naturally, that closed many doors.”

“But surely the estate supported a comfortable living,” he said, thinking of those books in the library.  “Why is it that money was still so tight if Fosdale abandoned gaming?”

She shook her head.  “You grew up in the south, but northern England is quite different.  The fields produce well, but much of our land lies on the mountains, which cannot be tilled.  The hillsides aren’t even good for grazing, for little of the growth is grass.  The estate keeps us fed and clothed, but even repairs must be postponed in bad years.  With all this rain, the coming year will be an especially lean one.  Our tenants will suffer greatly.”

“So your father failed to find a rich wife,” he repeated, returning to her narrative.

“He finally gave up and settled on siring an heir.  Lord Bornhill has an estate in the next valley.  He was equally impoverished at the time and grateful to find a match for his only daughter.  His sister Constance hadn’t been so lucky.  She remained a spinster and now lives in the dower house.  I was returning from a visit when we met.”

“An unforgettable meeting,” he said, daring a smile.

She laughed.  “That it was.”  But her face quickly returned to a frown.  “Mother accepted the match because he offered an escape from spinsterhood – and because she knew he had visited London, though I doubt she understood how short his stay actually was.  She had always dreamed of an elaborate London Season, where she would be swept off her feet by a handsome, wealthy gentleman and carried away to live happily ever after.”

“Not an unusual dream.”

“For young girls,” she agreed.  “But Mother was already five-and-twenty.  Most people learn to distinguish fact from fantasy as they mature.  But she never did.  Fosdale swore that he would someday recoup his fortune.  She has lived on that promise since the day he proposed.  Whenever things look dark, she loses herself in air dreams where she is hailed as Society’s darling and adored by everyone she meets.  The dream has hardly changed in twenty-five years.  At times I think she believes it really happened.”

How sad – and disturbing.  She would hardly be the first person to retreat from reality, but he thought people used that defense only to escape intolerable lives.  What had Fosdale done to her?  And how had it affected Elizabeth?  But that must wait until later.  Sedge’s problems took precedence.

He took a turn around the room.  “I take it she passed her fantasies to Cecilia?”

“She did.”  Shaking her head, she let out a disgusted sigh.  “But that is not the problem.  As you pointed out, many girls share that dream.”

“But not you.”

“I have more sense, and I have read widely.  Unfortunately, Cecilia expanded Mother’s dream, adding to the fantasy.”

“How?”

“It is difficult to explain,” she admitted, pacing.  “All these years, Mother’s images of London have sustained her, allowing her to ignore Fosdale’s abuses.”

“He abuses her?”  His tone had a hard edge that brought a flush to her face.

“Not that way.  I’ve never known him to strike anyone.  But he enjoys humiliating her, and he uses the promise of London to ensure obedience – not that he would ever take her there,” she added bitterly.

“So she escapes his derision by dreaming,” he said evenly.

“Quite successfully.  But that provides an unfortunate example for Cecilia.  She now sees London as a panacea for all ills.  Thus living there will guarantee a long and ecstatically happy life.”

“That should be easy enough to disprove.  The London papers contain ample evidence to the contrary.”

“I did not use the word
obsessed
lightly,” she warned.  “She discounts news stories, for a tale becomes news only if it is out of the ordinary.”

He choked.

“We have held this discussion too often for me to mistake her reaction.  She can also cite chapter and verse from myriad romantic novels to support her views.”

“Good God!”

“Quite.  Now there is a slight chance that you might succeed where I did not – after all, she knows I have never visited Town.  She told me quite recently that Lord Symington, being a London gentleman, will prove my contentions false and reveal me as a jealous antidote seeking to deprive her of her rightful place in the world by locking her into a position as my lifelong companion.”  His choking increased, but she continued without pause.  “You can set her straight on that score, for you must have been there.”

“Not often.  I am not overly fond of the place.”

“How about Symington?”

“He hates it.  Society is a frivolous collection of toadeaters, fortune hunters, and title seekers, whose antics make it impossible to poke m—one’s nose out the door without being trampled.”  He forced the passion from his voice – she was staring – and quickly changed the subject.  “Tell me of this neighbor who has offered for Cecilia.”

She continued to stare for nearly a minute before complying.  “He owns the next estate and is a perfectly proper gentleman, but I cannot imagine that you would know him.”

He bit off a more specific question, for Mr. Randolph had few connections.  Raising further suspicions would expose him.  He had already come too close by not weighing his words before releasing them.

Elizabeth settled into a chair.  “He has been courting Cecilia for two years.  She enjoys his company but has steadfastly refused to consider marriage.  Personally, I believe she harbors a strong
tendre
for him, though she will never admit it.  Her obsession with London obscures everything else.”

“Why would she not be content with going to London as his wife?”

“He has never promised to take her.”  She frowned.  “Actually, he has never admitted to being there himself, though he must have done so, for he is often absent for months at a time.  It is only in the last two years that he has stayed home.”

“Do any rumors hint that he might have lost his fortune as your grandfather did?”

“No, though I know little of his finances.  His mother fell ill two years ago.  She lives in Carlisle now, to be near her doctor.  He visits often.”

Randolph let the subject drop.  If Sedge wanted to know more about the suitor, he could ask.

He paced to the window and back.  “So your mother has never been out in Society, but always longed to.  She passed that yearning on to Cecilia, who added her own exaggerations and misconceptions to the tale and now refuses to consider any other life.”

“That sums it up quite nicely.  Rather than accept a local man, she schemed to trap Symington, believing that all her dreams will now be fulfilled.”

“Good.  That gives us a starting point.  She will be surprised to learn that Symington has avoided London for years.  He dislikes crowds, noise, filth, and the shallow posturing of Society.”

“To say nothing of the importuning hordes,” she added, grinning.

“All gospel, by the way.  What specifically does she expect to find in Town?”

“As to the city itself, I doubt gold-paved streets and fairy-tale castles would surprise her.  She sees it as a collection of glittering ballrooms and pleasure parks.”

“The only pleasure park left is Vauxhall, but the highest sticklers are shunning it these days.  Since the Vauxhall Bridge opened, it has been overrun with undesirables.  Even the entertainment is now aimed at the merchant classes.  In fact, it may cease to exist altogether.  The Reverend Barrett recently inherited the place.  Believing its operation to be incompatible with his position in the world, he plans to auction it next month.”

“I’ve seen no notice in the paper.”  She glared suspiciously.

He cursed under his breath, then shrugged.  “I have many correspondents.”  Actually, Sedge had mentioned it.  Sedge had conducted many a discreet liaison in its darker byways over the years, so its slide into mediocrity had saddened him.  But it was again time to shift the focus.  “How does Cecilia feel about Society itself?”

“It consists of hordes of males ready to fall at her feet in admiration,” she said wryly.  “She expects to be the subject of at least one duel a day.”

“Doesn’t she know that dueling is illegal?”

“I’ve mentioned it, but she hears only what she wishes to hear.”  She shrugged.  “As far as she is concerned, the only thing that might interrupt incessant partying would be secret assignations with passionate admirers – all very chivalrous, of course.”

“Of course.  What about museums, theater, opera, and the daily social calls on other great ladies?”

She laughed.  “I told you her fantasies were ridiculous.  I have tried to convince her that London differs from Cumberland only in scope.  The activities are much the same, though formal entertaining occurs more frequently.  One of her objections to country life is paying calls.  Talking is so boring, and the endless gossip so trite.  Unless conversation focuses on her appearance or her accomplishments, it is of no possible interest.”

He nodded.  “So what does she consider to be
endless gossip
?”

“Who is expecting a blessed event, the mischief children get into, the difficulty in finding good servants…”

“In other words, the things ladies always discuss,” he said, interrupting.  “What about the details of who is courting whom?”

“That is more interesting, of course.  But only because she believes that she can win any man she wants, so she looks down on the puny efforts of others to snare a husband.”

“So we can add arrogance to her fantasies.”

She glared.  “Cecilia is a sweet girl who has a core of common sense about most things.  Only on this one subject is she lacking.”

“I did not mean to impugn her nature,” he quickly claimed.  “But I need a very clear picture of her expectations if we are succeed.  What about the other activities?”

She resumed her pacing.  “Cecilia would abhor museums.  I don’t know about theater, for she hates reading anything but novels.  But she would probably enjoy the farces.  And I believe the theater offers another arena in which to display one’s beauty and conquests, so she would likely approve.  You must understand that she has always been the neighborhood beauty, so she expects everyone to pay homage to her.  And she may even believe that a prince will demand her hand.”

“He would have to be foreign, then,” he said with a laugh.  “Our own princes are aged roués who are being forced into wedlock only because Princess Charlotte’s death leaves us with no heir to the throne.  Emissaries are already swarming over the Continent.  But even if the royal family allowed them to choose an English lady rather than yet another German princess, I doubt any of them would make acceptable husbands.”

“Too true.  I sometimes wish we
could
manage a London Season.  The shock might convince Cecilia that she will be happier living here.  Our neighbor truly does love her.”

“I would try to arrange it if it were not already too late.  Now that she has staged her compromise, we cannot allow her near Society.”

“I know.”  She frowned.

“Does she expect to live permanently in London after marriage?”

“I do not know if she has worked out the details, though she certainly expects to spend every Season there.  And she has heard that Brighton is popular.  Is it true that the Regent has built a fairy tale palace there?”

“The Pavilion.”  He rolled his eyes.  “It is an abomination.  We had best not describe that, for it would certainly appeal to someone with Cecilia’s fantasies.  However, repeating the comments others have made of the building might have the proper effect. 
Grotesque monstrosity
is one of the kinder descriptions.”

“It would be better to call it dull, or a waste of money.  She is drawn to both underdogs and the unusual.”

“Very well.  I have convinced Symington to remain abed until tomorrow.  He can begin his campaign then.”

“You can start tonight, sir,” she countered.  “I will expect you at dinner.  We rarely dress when dining
en famille
, so you needn’t fret over your limited wardrobe.  In the meantime, I must chide Cecilia for this latest start.”

“Do not be too hard on her,” he warned, unlocking the door.  “If she digs in her heels too firmly, she may ignore anything we say.”

Checking to see that the hall was clear, he slipped out and reported to Sedge.

CHAPTER TEN

Randolph left Sedge to his tray and joined the family for dinner.  It was just as well that Sedge was remaining upstairs, for his temper was still hot.  Faced with Cecilia and Fosdale, he would likely say something he would later regret.

Though he agreed with Elizabeth that they must tackle Cecilia immediately, he deliberately arrived in the drawing room at the last minute.  Thus he avoided any tête-à-têtes before he could form impressions of the family.  So far, he had met Fosdale twice and Cecilia once, all under confrontational conditions.  He had yet to see Lady Fosdale.

The oddity of his position was responsible, of course.  As Symington’s friend, Whitfield’s employee, and Elizabeth’s suitor, he had been given a decent room.  Yet only Elizabeth had made any pretense of welcoming him.  Though he had decided upon arrival to take his meals with Sedge, he had never been offered an alternative. Elizabeth’s order had been his first invitation to join the family.

Elizabeth was entering the drawing room as he descended the stairs.  Lady Fosdale’s greeting hinted that the girl had not eaten with them in weeks.  Another oddity.  He knew she had nursed John Coachman through his critical period, but several days had passed since his fever had broken, and he had now improved enough to move out to the stables.

Lady Fosdale strongly resembled Cecilia, though her blonde hair was liberally streaked with gray, making her eyes appear bluer.  But she lacked Cecilia’s vibrancy.  However much he deplored the chit’s actions, London would proclaim her a diamond if she ever managed a come-out – not that he would admit that aloud.