Elisabeth Kidd (27 page)

“The miniature is missing!” the countess exclaimed, getting to the point without troubling to answer Sabina’s question, which she apparently considered to be rhetorical.

Sabina was speechless, and Lord Kimborough stated the obvious. “But Lavinia, did Lady Sabina not give it to you only an hour ago?”

“Not
that
miniature, dolt,” Lady Kimborough retorted intemperately. “The matching portrait. The one which proves that the set belongs to the Ashtons!”

Chapter 18

Now it was the earl whose temper was unraveling.

“Lavinia, are you accusing Lady Sabina of theft?” He addressed his wife in an icy voice.

Lady Kimborough’s angry gaze faltered momentarily, but then she lifted her chin determinedly. “It seems to me a very peculiar coincidence that the miniature should disappear just when she has entered the house,” she pronounced.

“Sabina had been in your company or mine since she arrived,” Richard pointed out. “Do you know for a certainty that the portrait was not missing prior to her arrival?”

Sabina, still astounded at this turn of events and unable to believe that this scene was taking place, found herself yet further outside the conversation as Lord and Lady Kimborough confronted each other, apparently forgetting her existence.

“Lord Kimborough,” she began, tentatively touching his arm to catch his attention. He started, then turned to her and quickly assumed the more genial expression he had greeted her with earlier. She could not be entirely sure, however, that his heart was in it this time. If it was not, had he been quite as sympathetic as she had imagined earlier? She felt not simply confused, but uncertain of her ability to understand anyone’s motives anymore.

“My dear Lady Sabina,” Richard said, raising her hand to kiss it, “I cannot apologize enough. I am certain this will all prove an unnecessary and unfortunate obstacle to our friendship, and only a temporary one. Nonetheless, perhaps you would be good enough to leave and allow me to get to the bottom of the matter? I will call on you as soon as it is resolved, I assure you.”

“Thank you, Lord Kimborough,” Sabina replied, holding on to her dignity as her last measure of self-respect. “I am certain you are as good as your word.”

His smile reassured her to some extent, but when Sabina turned to say good-bye to the countess, that lady refused again to take her offered hand. Instead, she turned wordlessly and went through the nearest door, closing it firmly behind her.

A moment later, Sabina found herself of the other side of the front door of Ashtonbury Abbey, struggling to control her tears of frustration and disappointment. She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes before donning her riding gloves and mounting her horse, which a groom held for her while averting his eyes and containing his curiosity with difficulty.

She rode to Carling alone, refusing the groom’s company since she could not chance his report of her behavior reaching Bromleigh Hall before she and Robert were on their way.

Oh, where
was
Robert? She had no idea of the time, but it could not be past noon. He had said he would meet her at four o’clock, but she had an overwhelming desire to seek immediate comfort in his arms.

What had she done wrong? She had set out this morning with the best of intentions, and now The Quarrel, which she had tried with a whole heart to end, had only been resuscitated. Robert would be at the least disappointed in her, at worst…

She refused to think of the worst that could happen, and soon, reason and something like her old assurance reasserted themselves. She had done nothing wrong. She had no idea what had happened to the Ashtons’ miniature, but she had not taken it, and she knew that no one connected with the Bromleys had ever seen it, much less stolen it. For all she knew, the miniature had never existed, and Lady Kimborough was using its purported disappearance to fuel her animosity toward Sabina’s family.

And when she and Robert were married, would she still refuse to receive Sabina—and therefore Robert? Had she succeeded today only in separating him irrevocably from his family?

It was in this mood of uncertainty that she arrived at Carling Manor, composed but apprehensive. All she could do now, she supposed, was wait for Robert and discuss the matter with him. She could not think about it any longer without confiding in him or she would drive herself mad.

It was a moment before she noticed Fletcher’s traveling coach standing in her drive, and another moment before she realized its significance.

“Good heavens! Cousin Edina!”

Sabina came to a halt, staring at the coach as a mountain of luggage was being taken down from it and carried into the house. A moment later, a very thin, very white-haired lady of indeterminate age, with bright brown eyes, stepped daintily out of the front door and began directing the disposition of her belongings by waving a walking stick at the coachman and footman.

“Cousin Sabina!” this apparition exclaimed when she saw her hostess standing in the drive, nonplussed. “I knew I should not do wrong by coming to Carling first, rather than proceeding directly to Bromleigh Hall. After all, we are to stay in this lovely house together, are we not? We are indeed, and so I thought it eminently sensible to have the coachman bring me here so that my luggage might be unloaded in its proper place. If I had not found you at home, to be sure, I should have gone on to the Hall, but here you are, just as I anticipated, and you do look lovely, Sabina dear, but where have you been?”

Sabina had found her voice sometime during the early part of this speech, but was unable to halt its course long enough to welcome her companion. She did have time to wonder, however, how she would inform Edina that she was unemployed already. How
could
she have forgotten about her?

“Oh, Edina, I’m so sorry,” she said as she escorted her cousin back into the house. “I must confess, it had completely slipped my mind that you were arriving today.”

“But did you not receive my last letter, dear? Of course, you must have done, for the carriage was there to take me up at just the right time yesterday, and here we are arrived an hour ahead of schedule, which was what made me think I should come to Carling first, as there was sufficient time for a little detour and I am not in the least fatigued after such a comfortable journey—this lovely coach all to myself, only fancy. Will you not invite me to step inside, Sabina, dear?”

“Oh, goodness. Please—do come in, Edina. I don’t know what I am thinking. Would you care for a cup of tea?”

Edina sailed gaily into the house, past a bemused footman, who had been on the point of departing for Bromleigh Hall himself on being given leave to do so by Lady Sabina, but who was now holding the door open as Cousin Edina and her luggage were carried in.

Sabina’s erstwhile companion, it transpired, preferred ratafia to tea, and sherry to either, but as Sabina had not thought yet to stock the Manor with spirits, Edina was forced to take tea, which she did with good humor but the tacit understanding that she was making an exception to her usual practice.

“Why, you have done wonders with the house!” Edina exclaimed, after taking herself on a whirlwind tour of the lower floor, teacup in hand, while Sabina, glancing at the time whenever she passed a clock, followed in her wake, her mind spinning in an attempt to keep up with Edina while worrying about what she would say to explain her guest when Robert arrived. She must get rid of her before four o’clock.

“I can see that you are not nearly finished,” Edina was saying, “but now that I am here to assist you, the work will go so much faster. I must tell you, I am accounted a fair hand at interior decoration, but I do not only design, I am perfectly happy to perform the physical aspects of the work as well. Tell me, how many bedrooms have you, Sabina, and how many are ready for occupation?”

Sabina had quickly comprehended that the secret to her cousin’s conversational skill was that she obligingly ended every oration with a question which she did not immediately answer herself, thereby giving those whom she addressed an opportunity to contribute their share of the exchange.

“I’m afraid there are only two bedrooms partially ready, Edina. I would be happy to show you to yours, but I fear you would not yet be comfortable there. Would you mind very much going to Bromleigh Hall after all and waiting for me there? I have no doubt that Alicia will be eager to welcome you, and—and we will meet at dinner, I daresay, after you have had a rest.”

Edina waved her teacup merrily. “Dear me, no. I must tell you, Sabina dear, that unlike most wayfarers, travel invigorates me rather than the opposite, and I am perfectly willing to begin the duties of my employment today—instantly, if you like. I any case, the coachman has already returned to the Hall, I believe. Is this the library?”

She sailed into the room which, by the numbers of cartons of books scattered about the floor, she had guessed rightly to be the library. Sabina stayed outside the door for a moment and sank back against the wall, closing her eyes to compose herself and try to think what to do.

Where was Robert? What was she to do with Edina? Was the footman still about? Should she send a message to the Abbey? What if it passed Robert on the way?

She smiled wryly to herself. She was already picking up Edina’s habit of composing questions for others to answer.

Just at that moment, she heard voices from below and, abandoning her visitor to her own devices, fled down the stairs, not daring to hope it was Robert already. She ran outside—only to see Henry pull his horses to a stop at her door. Dulcie sat on the perch beside him, looking very fetching in a white muslin day dress, but with an anxious expression on her face.

“Oh, Henry, not you now!”

Her brother got down from his curricle, looking very cool and much the country gentleman in his breeches and Belcher handkerchief, handed the ribbons to his groom, and assisted his wife down. Then he approached his sister.

“Sabina, whatever is happening? The coachman has just reported leaving Edina off here. Why did she not come to the Hall first?”

Sabina took his arm to pull him towards the door. “Henry, dearest, I have no idea what possessed her to come here. Perhaps the journey fatigued her more than she realizes. Why do you not go inside and persuade her to go home with you—at once.”

Behind Henry, Sabina saw Dulcie shake her head vigorously and, sensing that she had something important to say, Sabina pulled her brother into the house before he could protest. There Dulcie held back while Henry was taken into the parlor and left there to be subjected to Edina’s profuse exclamations of delight at seeing him.

As soon as Edina had drawn the bemused Henry into her voluble orbit, Sabina slipped out again into the hall, closing the door behind her and turning to her sister-in-law.

“Sabina,” Dulcie began in an urgent whisper, “one of the maids noticed this morning that the infamous miniature was missing, and fortunately came to me to report it. I did not know what you wanted me to say, so I insisted that Henry bring me along when he came here.”

Sabina sighed and leaned back against the closed parlor door. “I suppose there is no need to conceal that I took it, and why. Unfortunately, my gesture achieved an unexpected result—it appears that the Ashtons’ matching miniature has disappeared.”

“Do you mean, there actually was one?” Dulcie exclaimed.

“I suspected that was just a ploy, and I am still not sure it was not, but in any case, Lady Kimborough has as good as accused me of theft.”

“But that’s absurd!”

“It is, if only because I was in her company or the earl’s the entire time I was at the Abbey, but she is nonetheless convinced that the Bromleys had something to do with it.”

Now it was Dulcie who sighed. “Oh, dear. What next.”

Unfortunately, this remark appeared to be prophetic in a way neither lady expected. They agreed to discuss the matter properly after persuading Edina to accept Henry’s escort to Bromleigh Hall so that she might be welcomed by the rest of the family and take dinner with them. They then repaired to the parlor to rescue Henry from Edina’s effusiveness.

He looked both relieved to see them and exasperated at them for leaving him alone with his cousin. But after his wife and sister had exercised their considerable social skills to draw Edina’s attention to themselves and Henry was able to sit back and draw breath for a few moments, it was not long before he was joining in their pleas for Edina to go with him to the Hall and even spend the night there before settling in properly at the Manor.

Indeed, Edina had scarcely departed to collect her overnight necessities when the sound of yet another carriage was heard from the drive. Sabina sat up, her head turned to the window, and whispered, “Robert!” Fortunately, only Dulcie heard her and gave her a quizzical look before rising to follow Henry into the hall to see who the new arrival might be.

A groom in Ashton livery stood on the threshold.

“The earl and countess wish to speak to Lady Sabina,” this worthy announced. “Is she at home?”

Henry planted his feet in the doorway and crossed his arms, as if prepared to defend the castle from invaders. Sabina edged past him before he could say anything, however, and told the groom, “Please tell Lord and Lady Kimborough that I shall be pleased to receive them.”

“Sabina, what is all this about?” Henry demanded. “Did you know they were coming?”

Dulcie interrupted to assure her husband that the visit was a complete surprise, but after their previous efforts at hospitality, they could scarcely now refuse to see the Ashtons, who were at that moment approaching the house. Richard removed his hat and bowed to the ladies; Henry returned the bow and raised Lady Kimborough’s hand in a brief salute.

“It is good to see you again so soon, ma’am,” he said, reverting to his normally courteous manner. Lady Kimborough did not unbend appreciably, but she did essay a tight smile. To Sabina, she said nothing. Sabina realized that she did not intend to speak until she must, so she led her into the house, where she hoped she might deign to do so—and met Edina descending the stairs.