Amanda Scott (20 page)

As they passed through the unoccupied state bedchamber, hung with green velvet, Simon murmured that he had heard the bed there had cost Robert Child over two thousand pounds. Diana was sorry to hear it had cost so much, for the ornate wooden dome looked overheavy, as though it might crush the occupants at any moment, and the curtains were mere trumpery, festooned with artificial silk flowers. But the greatest shock came when they passed out of this gaudy chamber into a smaller room wainscoted with deal and painted with little figures that must have been copied from an Etruscan vase. The wooden chairs scattered about the chamber were decorated in a like manner, and the whole effect seemed out of place after the grandeur of previous apartments.

They found Lady Westmorland at last in the long gallery with its view of a broad lawn edged by enormous cedar trees. Dressed becomingly in an orange crepe afternoon frock with a low-scooped bodice, tiny fluffed sleeves, and a white satin sash, she turned away from a large vase of dried flowers which she was attempting to rearrange and stepped forward lightly and quickly to greet them.

“I had nearly despaired of the Warringtons,” she said in her musical voice, ending on a trill of laughter. “You were invited to provide leavening to an otherwise dull group, you know. I feared you had all failed me.”

“Why, I had thought my brother must be here,” said Simon with a smile.

“No, indeed, Andover, and never a word from that wretch to excuse himself, either, if you please. And you and Diana a full two days late, though you did indeed write to say you would be.”

Simon smiled. “I explained that the delay at Denham was unavoidable,” he said.

“
I
was delayed,” Diana corrected, shooting him a barbed glance. “Simon rode into London to attend to some diplomatic business or other and left me well nigh stranded with Lord and Lady Hill, whether they wanted me or not.”

“Well, you are here now, and that is all that matters,” said Lady Westmorland quickly when Simon looked ready to debate the issue. The laughter was still in her eyes as she explained that the younger members of the party, approving of the change in the unpredictable weather, had ridden down to the chain of lakes beyond the cedars they could see in the distance, hoping to find ice there thick enough for skating. “Your brother and his wife are somewhere about, of course, and
dear
Lady Jersey, and a good many others, as well,” she added, “but Westmorland and Jersey have deserted us, saying they had no choice but to attend a levee for the king at St. James’s. Since I do not feel her majesty will miss my presence at her drawing room—the January and February presentations are always too thin of company for my taste—I cannot help but think they might have sent regrets to the King. But they will both return for the ball on Wednesday, so you will not miss seeing them.”

Diana did not particularly care whether either earl honored them with his presence or not, but she was disturbed to hear that Lord Roderick had neither arrived nor sent his excuses. He had promised to meet them at Osterley. Moreover, whatever were his shortcomings, he was by nature too polite to accept an invitation and then forget about it. That sort of behavior was unfortunately becoming only too common among the younger men, but Rory had never to her knowledge left a hostess in the lurch.

Though she asked both Lydia and Ethelmoor as soon as she encountered them, neither had heard from Rory, and when she attempted to broach the matter to Simon sometime later in their own bedchamber, a charming room with a high, blue-curtained bed and curtains of a darker shade of blue framing the window, he dismissed her worries with a shrug.

“No doubt he is under the hatches again and doesn’t wish me to know of it. Certainly, his rudeness in not informing her ladyship of his change of plans does not auger well for his supposed reformed ways.” Simon peered at her searchingly. “You have dark smudges under your eyes, Diana. I think you would be well advised to lie down until dinnertime.”

“Really, Simon, I am not such a poor honey as that,” she protested. “What would Lady Westmorland think if after a journey of scarcely ten miles I were forced to take to my bed?”

“I don’t give a cracked groat for what she will think. You have been going the pace too strongly, and I want you to rest.”

“Simon, please,” she said coaxingly, laying a hand upon his arm, “I am fine, really.”

He looked down at her, and the look in his eyes softened. “You’ve not been looking at all well, sweetheart. Since I don’t want you to make yourself truly ill, I won’t argue any further, but if you go downstairs, I will insist that you take a good thick shawl with you. No discussion,” he added sternly, when she opened her mouth to protest again. “Either you obey me or you don’t leave this room.”

Diana shut her mouth, unsure for once of the feelings rushing through her. Usually the sort of highhandedness he was presently displaying filled her with resentment, but now she felt as if she needed his strength instead. She didn’t want to fight with him. If he regarded her submission with uncertainty, she was unaware of it, but she did feel confident enough of his mellow temper to suggest that something might have happened to prevent Lord Roderick from communicating with Lady Westmorland.

“Nonsense. What could have happened?” His words were brusque, informing her that his mood was still volatile. “I tell you, he’s merely off on one of his starts again, and I wash my hands of him. I don’t wish to hear any more about it.”

So Diana kept her worries to herself and managed for two days to pretend to be amused, as the other guests were, by Lady Jersey’s efforts to solidify her son’s matrimonial interests. Her ladyship’s antics were many and varied, and since Lady Sarah had more than once tactlessly made it plain that she thought the Princess of Wales had been treated shabbily ever since her arrival in England and that, furthermore, she thought the princess would make a delightful friend, it was generally agreed that great forebearance was required on Lady Jersey’s part even to speak to the chit. Clearly, Lady Jersey put the advantage of a great fortune ahead of more personal feelings, and the resulting scenes between the self-centered young girl and the woman of the world bent upon securing a fairy-tale fortune for her son must have provided vast entertainment had Diana not been too concerned about her brother-in-law to be truly amused by them.

By the third day she was convinced that something dreadful had happened to keep Rory from coming to Osterley, and was sorely tempted to confide what she knew about the Beléchappé family to Simon, but she dreaded his reaction one moment and feared the next that he would not take the matter, seriously enough to do anything. Then, too, she was by now quite certain of the cause for her lack of energy and for the nausea she had been suffering from time to time and was afraid that somehow or other, during any argument they might have over Rory, she might blurt out the information to Simon.

They had planned to go from Osterley to London, in order to open Warrington House for the upcoming Season. February was early for the remove to the metropolis, but Lady Ophelia, planning to bring Susanna out in the spring, wanted everything prepared well in advance, so that she could devote her attention to the details necessary to present her niece properly to the
beau monde
. Once Simon discovered he was to become a father, Diana was certain he would not only forbid her going to London but would put an end to their stay at Osterley, and would thus effectively prevent her from discovering what had become of Rory. She had no doubt that Simon would clap her into bed at Andover until further notice, convinced that such treatment was necessary to ensure the health and well-being of their future child. Better that she wait at least until they were safely settled in London at Warrington House, where she could argue that the best doctors were near at hand, before she mentioned a word to Simon about the baby.

She considered confiding in Lydia, but the notion occurred only to be dismissed. Even if Lydia agreed that Simon would overreact to the news, she would insist that it was his right to know. And if she did not tell Simon, she would certainly tell Ethelmoor, which would be much the same thing, for he would not stand for Diana’s keeping such news from her husband. If anyone was to find out what had happened to Lord Roderick, it must be Diana herself.

She remembered Rory’s mentioning that the comte had hired a house near Langley Marsh for the winter. That village, she knew, could not be more than eight miles or so along the Bath Road from Osterley. She could ride there and back in two or three hours. She paused for a moment, wondering if riding would present a danger to the baby, but she dismissed any worry on that head when she remembered her mother telling her she had ridden during both her pregnancies until she could no longer clamber onto the back of her horse. So long as she did not ride neck-or-nothing and did not fall off her horse, the baby would be fine. Therefore, suiting thought to action, she called Marlie to help her into her riding habit and sent orders to the stable to saddle the dapple gray. Marlie eyed her askance when she gave her orders, and Diana, knowing the maid had ample reason to wonder about her condition, merely snapped at her not to stand staring like a fish but to fetch the habit.

“And, Marlie, do not worry about me, and if you have any odd suspicions, keep them under your tongue. Please, Marlie.”

“As you say, Miss Diana, but if the master suspicions what I do myself, he won’t like you riding that gray, and that’s a fact.”

“The gray is as gentle as can be, and I intend to ride only along the main road, you know, with Ned Tredegar beside me, so I shall be perfectly safe. Mind now, Marlie, not a word.”

“Aye, m’lady,” Marlie agreed. But she frowned and Diana was not by any means certain she could trust her. Still, Marlie was her servant, not Simon’s, so she could hope the young woman would keep her counsel.

She met several people on her way to the stables, but she managed to evade any attempts to bear her company on her ride, and found Ned Tredegar awaiting her, the gray saddled and ready to go. The journey to Langley Marsh took just over an hour, and they soon found the tall, elegant mellow-brick house that had been hired for the winter by the Comte de Vieillard. As she allowed Tredegar to help her dismount, she hoped the comte would not think her ill-mannered to visit him in such a fashion. After all, it could not be so dreadful when he was an elderly man. She could not have visited his son, she thought with a grimace, without a female companion at her side. And even so, such a visit would have been highly improper. But for Rory’s sake, she might even have ventured that far beyond the line.

She gave her name to the French servant who answered the door and begged audience with the comte. The servant spoke fair English, but when he presented her to his master in a small, book-lined library, he did so in French. Diana greeted her host in the same language.

“Forgive me, monseigneur,” she said, taking a seat near him, “but I have come to you because I am worried about Lord Roderick Warrington. We expected him, my husband and I, to meet us at Osterley Park House several days ago, but he was not there, nor has he sent word to explain his absence. I know, though my husband does not, of his close acquaintance with your family, so I was hoping you might be able to assist me with information of his whereabouts.”

“Ah,
mon dieu
,” said the comte in a near moan, “you echo my own worries, madame, for the good Roderick left for France more than two weeks ago, and barring the brief note I received from him informing me that he had safely stepped off the boat onto French soil, I have heard nothing. Since he was bound directly for Versailles, I can only fear that he, like my to-be-pitied wife and my so-beautiful daughter, has been arrested.”

T
HE COMTE DE VIEILLARD
was white-faced. His breath came in short, rasping gasps, causing Diana to fear for his health. Clasping her hands together in her lap, she made every effort to keep her voice calm.

“Then, you have had word of your family? They have indeed been arrested?”

“Ah, this we still do not know, madame.” The comte spread plump-veined, liver-spotted hands. “I posted a letter, no? But there was no reply. The good Roderick became most impatient. An English trait, I believe.”

“Yes, he was impatient during Christmas,” Diana said. “He visited you again?”

“But yes, madame. Will you take refreshment?” he added when the servant slipped silently into the room with a tea tray.

“Some tea would be delightful,” Diana told him, her thoughts racing. “Please, monseigneur, tell me why my brother-in-law decided to go to France. What was his purpose, exactly?”

“Why, to discover the truth, no?” the comte said, raising his bushy eyebrows. “He carries a tenderness for my beautiful Sophie, and he feared that my son would…” He shrugged expressively. “I do not know if you have made the acquaintance of my son, madame.”

“I have met the Vidame de Lâche,” Diana said evenly.

“Then, you know he is not as he should be. I do not know how he came to be as he is. The Terror, you know, and all that has passed. But although he has not been raised in penury, as have many, still he lusts after what is no longer obtainable.”

“My brother-in-law has told me much, monseigneur. I am in his confidence. But, quite honestly, we have not known what to believe. Your son spoke of a treasure. Emeralds.”

To her surprise, the comte nodded. “The Beléchappé emeralds are quite well known in France, madame. When we came away, my family and I, my Sophie was just four years old, but Bertrand was nearly ten and quite old enough to have some understanding of what had come to pass. Only enough, however, to understand that his birthright had been taken from him. My wife and I have been unable, over the years, to make him understand how lucky he is to have his life. The emeralds stayed behind. We had enough money hidden about us for our needs, and other, less known pieces of jewelry, but the emeralds were too dangerous. If we had been discovered while still on French soil, we might have been able, successfully, to plead our fear without revealing our true identities, to say we wanted to get away from so much horror. Others were fleeing who were no more than royalist in belief, without being of the nobility. Some were spared. But the emeralds would have identified us too easily. To have carried them with us might have been fatal.”