Feather Castles (12 page)

Leith flinched, and seeing she had pierced his armour, she was sorry for it, and added hurriedly, “At all events, Foster don't
act
the rake. He's mild as milk 'round the gal, and has been good for her. Poor Sarah. She agrees with your optimism, of course. Or pretends to.”

Leith stared at the harpsichord and observed quietly that his son and daughter had always been very devoted.

“They have, indeed. And were you not so busy with your flirtations, King, you would have seen that Sarah was falling into melancholy. Foster is always in spirits, and it's a great feather in her cap to have him paying court. Many a lady in this city has dropped the handkerchief, and many a hopeful Mama has held her breath, praying Foster would take it up. This is the first time in years he has been so attentive to one female—and Sarah knows it.”

“Well, why not? My little Sally's one of the dearest girls in this old Village! Any man would be fortunate to secure her affections.”

“No doubt, but—she is not a beauty, Kingston. And will never be a Toast.”

“Her toast will be burned does she dally with the likes of Foster!”

“For shame! What vulgarity! Temper your terms, I pray, for I am not accustomed to such crudities.”

His lordship threw back his head and laughed aloud, being well aware that her spouse was noted for his uncouth remarks. Vexed by this insensitive performance, the Countess stood and, regarding him as from a great height, intoned, “I shall overlook your behaviour under the circumstances, Leith. However, be warned. Do you attempt to put a halt to Foster's attentions, you will earn my niece's resentment—to say the least of it!”

“Stuff!” he grinned, standing at once. “The day has yet to dawn when I cannot bring Sally around my thumb.”

Drusilla's chin was very high, her eyes glinting, observing which, he went over and slipped an arm about her rigid form. “Or you either, m'dear. Do not imagine I'm ungrateful for your care of Sally, or for the model you set her.” Lady Drusilla's back eased a little, and the severity of her expression relaxed into a reluctant smile.

“Any cockleheaded, green girl with little to recommend her save sauce, who could catch herself an Earl,” Leith finished disastrously, “cannot but be admired!”

*   *   *

The Honourable Sarah Cumming Leith tilted her jade green parasol a little, ostensibly to protect her dewy cheek from the intrusive rays of a rather weak sun. Seated beside her in his luxurious phaeton, Lord Leith was not deceived. He reached up to part the fringe on that charming and expensive parasol and asked, “Ain't hiding from your Papa, are you m'dear?”

At once the concealing article was shifted and, blinking her dark eyes rather rapidly, Sarah assured him that such was not the case. “It is just the sun, dear Papa.”

Leith smiled and took up her mittened hand. “No. It is your brother,” he contradicted. She swung her head quickly away. After a moment during which his face was unwontedly sombre, he put one finger beneath her chin and turned her head back again. “You are not a beauty, Sally,” he observed judicially.

Despite his rather haphazard notions of parenthood's obligations, and the fact that since returning from the Seminary his daughter had dwelt for the most part with her aunt, Sarah had always known that her father loved her deeply. His visits had been frequent, and down through the years she had spent more time with him than did many daughters who occupied the same house as their sire. The generosity Leith showered upon his barques of frailty was not withheld from his child; Sarah had never lacked either for expensive gifts, or the more meaningful unexpected outings, the heart-warming sudden presentation of some small item that he had “no sooner seen that I knew it was meant for you!” Despite his present gallant display of optimism, she suspected that inwardly his grief was far more acute than her own, and she also knew that this drive through the park was intended to cheer her. To be dealt such an unkind remark, therefore, both astounded and bewildered her, and her eyes widened in dismay.

“But you've a speaking pair of eyes,” Leith nodded, “and if your skin is a touch sallow, it's clear. You don't throw out a spot with every change of the wind. You've a charming smile, too, love. There, that one in particular!” And as she broke into a giggle, he added lightly, “Little wonder that devil Foster's pursuing you.”

Sarah's smile faded into uncertainty. “You—do not approve, Papa? But he has been so kind.” She sighed and looking down at her mittened hands, added, “Truly, after the news of … of dear Tris, my spirits were so sunk, I felt I never should come about. But Sir Freddy could not have been more understanding, nor exerted himself with greater kindness to divert me.”

A pucker tugged at Leith's brows, but when her eyes lifted shyly to his once more, he only asked a gentle, “Do you love him, my dear?”

She looked utterly confused, her blush deepened, and she floundered, “Why, I do not think—I, er—I had not considered— That is to say— He is a very dear friend, and— It would make me very unhappy were I obliged to— But, Sir Freddy
is
your friend, is he not, sir?”

“Damnation!” thought Leith. But he patted her hand fondly. “If there is one thing in all this world I've no wish to do, dear child, it is to make you unhappy.”

*   *   *

“The Jolly Countryman” was a modern inn, constructed entirely of red brick and, being endowed with such luxuries as water-closets and well-fitting windows, had won Sister Maria Evangeline's unqualified approval. “Indeed,” she told Rachel as they returned from a walk following luncheon, “I would raise no objections were we to overnight here, my love.”

“No, do you find the Hall depressing, ma'am?” asked Rachel mischievously. “Perhaps Tristram could find rooms for you in the village.”

“Minx! You know I like your home. It is unusual, though, to find so comfortable an inn. Thank goodness Tristram did so. I'm vastly relieved you asked him to escort us, Rachel. I thought you were quite decided against it.”

Rachel scrutinized the good Sister's bland innocence suspiciously. She had changed her mind while returning from Wright's Library and had asked Tristram to escort them to Sussex. Her reason had been one of pure kindness, for after the miserable attack he had endured she could not think him well enough to be abandoned to search alone for his family. For some reason she was reluctant to explain all this to the nun and said merely, “Why, you had suggested it, ma'am. And I try always to be guided by you.”

“If that were so,” said Sister Maria Evangeline, “you would not be betrothed to Claude Sanguinet.”

Rachel stiffened. “Do you so dislike him, then?”

They had, by this time, reached the grounds of the inn. Slightly out of breath, the nun halted and sank gratefully onto a convenient bench that had been fashioned from a fallen treetrunk. She patted the space beside her and panted, “I am unaccustomed to such strenuous exertions. Sit with me, child. I will tell you what I know of Claude, as I should have done long and long ago, save that you were so dazzled by him I could not bring myself to spoil the pure image you had created.”

“Nor will you now,” Rachel affirmed, sitting down obediently. “I owe him too much to be swayed, and so I warn you, dear friend.”

“Truly, I have no wish to sway you. It goes against my every impulse in fact, to tell you anything at all. Nor would I do so, save for the fact I am a Christian woman and could not send you in there without you were fully aware.”

Rachel's nerves began to tighten. Then she laughed, “Good gracious! You make it sound as though I was about to enter Bluebeard's Castle!”

Sister Maria Evangeline did not smile, and after a thoughtful moment, began, “I will rank the brothers Sanguinet for you, Rachel. Guy is apparently the least reprehensible, although that may be because he is the youngest and does not show his true colours as yet. Parnell is cruel and vicious and would, I think, have been put away years since, save that he is guided and controlled by Claude—who is a very ruthless and dangerous man.”

Searching that grave countenance, Rachel's eyes began to dance. “Let me guess,” she pleaded. “Claude, although an aristo, was also a Bonapartist, and now that our Corsican ogre is thoroughly defeated at last, he means to take up where Bonaparte left off, and make himself emperor of all Europe!”

For once, Sister Maria Evangeline was silenced, and, her own eyes very wide, fairly gaped at her erstwhile pupil.

“Oh, you wretch!” Rachel gave a little trill of mirth. “You are quite as bad as Tristram! Do you know that for a moment I thought you were serious?”

“And—for a moment, I really thought you knew some of the truth of it! Child, child! Do not laugh so! This is no joke. Oh, I know you think me a foolish old woman, but—
listen!
For your own sake, if not for England's!”

At this, Rachel gave an irrepressible giggle. “
England?
Claude plots against England? Oh, ma'am—you hoax me!”

Strong hands seized her by the shoulders and shook her so violently that her teeth snapped together. Eyes suddenly fierce glared into her own, and a voice like a rasp of steel grated, “Little fool! Why do you think I was so often gone from the convent? Why do you think I sought so desperately for Diccon that I'd not allow even your presence to keep me from my task, whatever the dangers?”

Rachel was really frightened at last, and wrenching free, she cried resentfully, “What part Diccon plays in your melodrama I cannot guess! But you go too far, ma'am! I am betrothed to Claude, and—”

“And have you told the soldier of it?”

A hot tide of crimson swept up Rachel's throat. She looked away, stammering, “Well … not yet, but—”

“For shame! To lead that poor boy on until he is so crazy in love with you he can see no other!”

“Oh, no, really! Tristram is courteous, merely. And I feel nothing more for him than—a deep gratitude.”

“Nonsense!” the nun barked ruthlessly. “He saved you from heaven knows what degradations, and you
were
grateful. But it is not gratitude that has made your step so light of late! It is not gratitude that causes you to smile into your teacup, or to put sugar in your soup, as you did last night at table.”

Her face an even deeper scarlet, Rachel faltered, “I—was just daydreaming.”

“And about whom? Oh, foolish child, you may lie to yourself, and you may wreck that fine young man's life with your silliness. But you cannot deceive me! I know you too well.”

Despite her blushes, Rachel's chin lifted. “Then you surely know that, having given my word, I will not—
could
not—jilt the man who saved my sister's life!”

For a moment it seemed the nun would make a sharp rejoinder. Instead, she tightened her lips, gave a small shrug, and sighed, “Very well—believe what you will. But, hear me you must. At all times I work for God, Rachel. But sometimes I also work for England. And I tell you that Claude Sanguinet is one of the most powerful men in all Europe, and I do believe
the
most dangerous! Human life is of no importance to him. He has been responsible for—”

“No!” Springing to her feet, her eyes flashing, Rachel exclaimed, “How can you say such terrible things? Claude was my father's dearest friend! Do you suppose Papa would have presented him to me were he an evil man?”

Sister Maria Evangeline knew a great deal more of the late Mr. Rupert Strand than she cared to divulge to his daughter, and therefore responded with caution. “Perhaps your father did not know the true nature of the man. I
do
know it. And I warn you that Claude is far from the gentle philanthropist you think him. He has a craving for power, and—”

“I will not listen!” Rachel threw her hands over her ears. A frown darkened the nun's usually mild features, and dropping to her knees beside the bench, Rachel implored, “Oh, pray let us not come to cuffs like this! You know how I love you. But I am more beholden to Claude than I can ever repay. Because he is so rich, he has many enemies, but he is a good, kind man, I swear it.” The nun sighed, and shook her head, and Rachel went on desperately, “Surely, were he as bad as you suspect, the authorities would move against him.”

“And will—so soon as we can present them with proof! Unfortunately, we have been unable to convince them.”

“Aha!” Rachel pounced, triumphant. “So they do not believe, either! Oh, dearest, will you not see that you have been misled? It is all so nonsensical!” Struck by a sudden thought, she asked, “If you truly believe these things, surely it would behove you to install a spy in the chateau?”

“Most assuredly.”

“And—when I wed Claude and go to his home, I could be of great help to you—no?”

“Of inestimable help.”

“And yet you warn me against him. Yes, and you encouraged Tristram's attentions—why, if to turn me from Claude would wreck your own schemes?”

The nun smiled sadly. “St. Matthew said, ‘No man can serve two masters.' So it is with me. The welfare of England is far more important than the welfare of any individual. But—sometimes conscience reminds me that my other Master has first claim on me. I gave Tristram every chance, hoping you might see what life
could
offer. Diccon would be most provoked with me!”

Rachel stood and looked down into that broad, earnest face for a long moment. “Well, I am not provoked with you,” she said at last, “for I know you meant only the best and believe what you say. I wish you did not. I wish I could make you see how wrong you are. But I
cannot
hurt him, nor believe evil of a gentleman who has shown me only kindness!”

Sister Maria Evangeline nodded resignedly, held up her hands, and was aided to her feet. “Yours is the voice of the ordinary, law-abiding citizen, who prefers to believe all men are basically decent, and closes his or her eyes to the fact that monsters
do
exist! What a great pity it is so very difficult for a good person to comprehend the passions of unbridled ambition, or the ruthlessness that drives some men to deeds beyond his own understanding.” She smiled wryly. “And listen to me—making such a speech! Well, I shall return to Godalming and leave you in peace. No, no! Do not be distressed. I am going not because of our difference of opinion, but because I have allowed many things to lapse whilst I played this little game. Alas, the time for games is done. Good-bye, my sweet innocent.” She pulled Rachel into a large hug, then added, “Promise me that if you see Diccon at Claude's chateau in Brittany you will not betray him.”