Amanda Scott (20 page)

It was clear by then that Sir Mortimer meant to encourage her to continue with her work, but when she stood up to take her leave of him, suggesting that she need not return until she had a good deal more to read to him, he became rather agitated. With Borland’s help, she was soon given to understand that the old man wished to hear every day what she had altered the day before. Nell was a little dismayed by the request, for she knew she would get on faster if she did not have to make the trip to Royal Crescent on a daily basis, but he seemed so distressed when she told him so that she soon agreed to do as he wished.

“You know, Miss Nell,” Borland said a few minutes later when he escorted her to the head of the stairs, “’tis my belief the master’s taken quite a liking to you. It ain’t the tale he cares about so much as seeing your face, or he would have had me ask you to send pages over each day to be read to him. He might easily have trusted to me to understand his wishes and tell you what changes he wanted made, you know, instead of setting himself the difficulty, as he has, of communicating them to you himself.”

“Well, it is my belief that he’s bored,” Nell said with a sigh. “How dreadful to be all alone as he is, Borland, with only you, kind though you are, to bear him company. It is to be hoped that when my Lady Axbridge arrives, he will admit her to his bedchamber and do what he may to become acquainted with her and all his family again.”

“He won’t do that, ma’am. He don’t want to see them and only becomes agitated if he is pressed to do so. Master Brandon visits him, as you know, but though Sir Mortimer don’t order me to throw him out, the lad don’t stay to chat with him beyond talking a bit of business, and nor does Sir Mortimer want him to do so. Says he’s done naught for the lad before now and that to be making so many demands of him now is a damned impudence.”

“But as Mr. Manningford’s father, he has every right to make demands, Borland, and in fact, I believe that Mr. Manningford is enjoying the responsibility he has been given, though it was perhaps not quite fair of Sir Mortimer to threaten to cut him off with no more than a shilling if he did not do as he was asked.”

“’Twas a feather, not a club, that the master wielded in that instance, Miss Nell.”

“Do you mean that there is no fortune?” Nell’s eyes widened in dismay, but Borland shook his head.

“No such thing, miss.” He said no more.

“I see,” Nell said. “It is not so difficult to understand you, I believe. I daresay the will is already written and will not now be changed, but if that is true, why does he not tell him so, so they can become better acquainted with one another?”

“He don’t see it that way, poor gentleman,” Borland said, making no attempt to dispute her interpretation, “for he don’t think Master Brandon would help him if he didn’t hold some sort of club. I tell you this only because the master is lonely and I hope you’ll not deny him your company. It were one thing when he had his journals, his novels, and his reading to occupy his hours. But now …” He spread his hands helplessly.

“Do you not read to him, Borland?”

“Aye, ma’am, I do, but I’m no hand at it. He said once I’d a voice like a corn crake.”

“I see,” Nell said, repressing a sudden, quite unexpected gurgle of laughter at so apt a description. “He is not very conciliating, is he, Borland?”

“No, ma’am.”

Nell said farewell to him then and turned away, having been given much food for thought. Manningford was waiting for her downstairs, and after she had assured him that Sir Mortimer had approved her work, and told him what the old man had said about the Bees-Waxers’, he escorted her to her chair, informing her as they passed through the sunlit back garden that he had decided that since there was nothing else offering entertainment that night, he and Mr. Lasenby would visit the club. “I want to see that betting book, and Sep can draw you a floor plan and discover some more of the history of the place. Then, I thought, tomorrow night we might attend the fireworks display in the Sydney Gardens. Lady Flavia will enjoy that, I expect, and I’ll invite Sydney and Carolyn Saint-Denis to join us there. They will no doubt have ideas about other places you ought to see. You will like them both. I do.”

“I shall look forward to meeting them, and to seeing the fireworks. What else have you got planned for my education?”

He suggested a visit to the Abbey and Milsom Street the day after the fireworks display, and a ride on the downs above the town the day after that. “To give you an eagle’s view of the place, you know,” he added casually.

“And not merely because you are beginning to feel a bit caged, sir?” Her eyes twinkled, and he smiled back with the warmth she had begun to expect to see when she talked with him.

“You are coming to know me rather well, Miss Bradbourne.”

She agreed, grinning at him and conscious of a deepening sense of kinship with him, a feeling that was becoming more and more familiar, as though she had known him all her life. She had thought at first that it came to her because he was so much like her father and brother, interested only in gaming and dicing and kicking up larks, but she knew now that it was no such thing.

When she had first met him, she had not thought he would be kept long in Royal Crescent, for although he had said he remained because he needed money, she found it hard to believe, even before quarter-day had come and gone, that he would allow himself to be constrained for such a cause. In her experience, gentlemen in need of financial recuperation went to the horse races or to the gaming tables. And certainly no sense of obligation kept him. Other sons might have felt obligated to attend an ailing father, but he was not among them, and though she had at first thought him an unnatural son, she knew now that not even the highest stickler could cavil at his having so little regard for a man he scarcely knew.

Nor had it occurred to her at first that Manningford might have stayed out of consideration for her. His attitude toward her all along had been kind but careless, and even now, with all the encouragement he was receiving from her great-aunt to do so, she could not suspect him of dangling after her. He was no hero on a white charger, thundering to the rescue of an innocent heroine, but just her good friend. When she compared him to Sir Percy, the hero of Sir Mortimer’s novel, the thought made her laugh. In fact, as she realized the following evening, the hero she and Sir Mortimer had created was, in many ways, much more like Sydney Saint-Denis than he was like Brandon Manningford.

The party for their outing to the gardens included Nell, Lady Flavia, Mr. Lasenby, Manningford, and Mr. and Mrs. Saint-Denis, and after strolling along the gravel paths for a time, they had taken their places in the box Manningford had hired for them, enjoyed a tasty supper, and then sat back to enjoy the colorful display. Nell had plenty of time to observe her new acquaintances and decided she liked both of them very much.

Carolyn Saint-Denis, with her raven tresses, deep blue eyes, and rosy cheeks, was a beauty in the most fashionable sense of the word, looking much as Nell herself had often wished to look. But, apparently unconscious of her beauty, she was an animated, laughing creature, full of life and laughter, a perfect foil for her amiable, rather foppish, lazy husband. At one point, seeing friends in the distance, she had turned quickly to Mr. Saint-Denis and tugged at his sleeve to direct his attention to them.

Patting her hand as he carefully disengaged himself, he said in a sleepy tone, “My dear Caro, a matron lady, even one with two painfully energetic children, does not bounce about in public or seize unsuspecting persons by their coat sleeves. Consider my vanity, if you please.”

She smiled saucily at him. “I will consider it, dearest Sydney, if you insist, but I believe it only fair to warn you that you are becoming just a trifle stuffy again. I cast but a hint your way, you see, knowing that you will prefer to attend to the matter yourself, rather than leave it to me.”

He looked at her for a long moment, the dawning twinkle in his gray eyes warming to something more than simple enjoyment, until Carolyn’s cheeks grew quite pink with pleasure. It was just such a look, Nell decided, as she would like to be skilled enough to place in Sir Percy’s eyes when he gazed upon Elizabeth. Indeed, if she could produce an intimacy between the pair of them that was anything like what she was rapidly coming to see between the Saint-Denises, she would be very pleased with her work.

Hearing her name spoken, she turned away from Carolyn and Sydney to find herself face to face with Jarvis Bradbourne, who had bent over the railing of the box in order to make himself heard above the cheers of the crowd when a fiery rocket exploded overhead. As the cheering died away, Jarvis said, “How delighted I am to find you enjoying a bit of gaiety again, Cousin.”

Lady Flavia, hearing his voice, turned away from Mr. Lasenby, who had been speaking close to her ear, and said, “You here, Jarvis? What can you want now?”

“I called at the house to pay my respects, ma’am, and was so fortunate as to be told by the admirable Sudbury where I might find you. Since it was such a short distance, I took the liberty of paying out my sixpence to join you, but I see that your box is too full to accommodate me, so I will just take Nell for a short stroll, if I may. Walk with me, my dear.”

She hesitated. There was no reason that she could think of to be rude to him, but neither did she want to go with him. She felt a sense of menace whenever he was near, and though she could not believe he would do anything so absurd as to try to force her to leave with him, and had never been given actual reason to believe he meant harm to her, she had no wish to listen to more of his persuasiveness.

When she did not speak, Manningford got to his feet and said calmly, “Sydney, Caro, care to join us for a walk?”

“I thought this indolence was too pleasant to last,” Mr. Saint-Denis said, getting to his feet and helping his wife adjust the light scarf she wore over her shoulders as protection against the evening’s light breeze. “Don’t believe I know you, sir,” he said to Jarvis. “Sydney Saint-Denis. This lady is my wife.”

Nell said, “Forgive me, everyone. He is a cousin of mine, Jarvis Bradbourne, who is visiting Bath for a few days.”

Jarvis made his leg, then said pointedly, “I’ve something of a rather private nature to say to you, Cousin.”

“Well, this is hardly the place for it,” she told him, “and if you must know, I don’t wish to walk alone with you.”

“You don’t trust me,” he said with a sigh. “By my oath, but that is foolish, my dear, for I wish to marry you, and thus have every reason to protect your good name. Certainly, you need not fear to walk a little apart with me. I leave for London in the morning, and I would have speech with you before I go.”

Glancing at Manningford, she said, “Very well then, but only a little way. What is it?” she demanded, scarcely waiting until they had moved far enough along the torchlit path to be beyond earshot of the others.

“You’ve been avoiding me, my dear, and though I find that somewhat tedious, I have no doubt that you will soon come to your senses. Your friends are kind to you now, but should they chance to discover your entire history—that is to say, your brother’s history—I doubt you would find them so amiable.”

She looked up into his face. “Are you threatening me, sir? I confess, I did not expect such a thing from you.”

“And you were not mistaken, my dear. Only think of how carefully I have used you, how tenderly I have nurtured Highgate on your impulsive brother’s behalf. But in eight months we have traveled no farther forward. I have respected your megrims and your mourning, but now I see that you have put both behind you, and I cannot be expected to remain patient much longer without something to show for it. I wish to protect you and the Bradbourne name, my dear, but I would be a fool to continue along this path without some reward for my efforts.”

“You will marry me or you will ruin us both; is that it?”

“Such bluntness, Nell, does not become you. I quite agree that it would be a pity to use you so, and I should prefer that that particular tale never come out. I have been at some pains to prevent it, after all. But the note of hand Nigel bestowed upon me that fatal night is not sufficient to allow me to do all that needs doing, and as he does not seem to have sent anyone his direction, I have been unable to request broader authority from him. However, there is the wager, and even without it, since I am his heir apparent, I anticipate no difficulty in persuading a Chancery Court to grant me full power to act, if not complete title. It is for the purpose of looking into that matter that I am going to London in the morning.”

His tone was so confident that Nell longed to slap him, but she knew she dared not. Since his arrival in Bath she had been expecting him to take some such step as this, to press her to change her mind about marrying him. Since she knew now, if she had not before, that she could never do such a thing, every cell in her body ached for her to tell him that he didn’t fool her, that she knew full well that taking Highgate from her family had been his intent all along. But she did not know his immediate intent, and she did not want to put him on his guard lest he do something horrid. Surely, she thought, if he believed himself safe, he would proceed with caution, slowly and meticulously. He had waited this long; he would not go headlong now without cause.

So it was that she said as calmly as she was able, “You will do what you believe necessary, I suppose. I cannot believe that a court will grant you title to land that is not yours, however, so perhaps you would do better to be content merely to be granted legal power to act on Nigel’s behalf.”

“You wish to forget the wager,” he said gently. “I quite agree that it don’t redound to our credit. By my oath,” he added with ponderous humor, “the court is likely to think the whole family as crazy as loons when they hear of it.”

“Then don’t tell them. That the stakes were as you say they were can be contested, you know, and in the event, you might find that the law nowadays will not support such extravagant stakes.”

An expression of annoyance crossed his face, and she knew she had struck a nerve. He had not expected her to know anything about gaming laws. She sent a silent thank you to Mr. Lasenby for the information and waited to see what Jarvis would say next.