Lord Satan (8 page)

This provided but a short-lived respite, however, for at
home she underwent a sharp questioning from her mother and had to admit her
rides on the Cauldreigh grounds with Edwina, and the call at The Castle. She
left out the midnight call with Alonso.

Mrs. Bishop did not scold Libbetty, but that did not ease
her remorse at causing the hurt in her mother’s eyes. Nor did it help her
anxiety that her father would soon learn of her conduct, and would chasten her
more severely.

His stern face at the dinner table left no doubt of his
displeasure. After dinner, he issued the summons that she had feared. She
forced a brave demeanor and entered his study to face her trial. She stood
before his desk, staring down meekly.

“Elizabeth, you deceived and disobeyed us, did you not?”

“I have not disobeyed you, sir,” she ventured with a glance.

“On the contrary, your deceit stemmed from knowledge that
your conduct would be disapproved, and even if you did not disobey expressed
commands, you nevertheless knowingly disregarded our wishes.

“On the whole I find such behavior more reprehensible than
an outright flouting of rules. It grieves me to find one of my children
capable of this deception. Until I have seen some evidence that you will
behave with more circumspection in the future, you will confine yourself to the
house, Elizabeth.”

Tears sprang to Libbetty’s eyes. “Oh, but Papa, that is
unfair. I have helped to mind the children, taking them for walks and to play
games outdoors. May I not at least continue to do that? Floss cannot manage
all of them by herself, so they may not go out if I cannot go along to help.”

“Perhaps an earlier consideration of the hardships your
misconduct would cause others would have served you better. I am not certain
you deserve such responsibility.” He looked at her doubtfully, while she
struggled to contain her tears.

“I will discuss the matter with your mother. If she wishes
you to continue your outings with the children, I will allow that. You may not
go out otherwise—except to church, of course,” he said.

Grateful for this concession, and entirely conscious she had
committed greater transgressions than he knew, she said, “Thank you, Papa,” and
left the room.

Mrs. Bishop granted permission for Libbetty to continue
helping Floss. Her narrowed life left her with far too much time to think, and
her thoughts seemed naturally to take a direction that would have shocked her
father. Lord Neil’s words came all too frequently to her mind, and she found
herself wishing she could accept his near-command.

Edwina had to fend off her mother’s matchmaking efforts
without help from Libbetty. What was more, Libbetty could not pursue either of
her own goals, to prevent Lord Cauldreigh’s murder or to attach him for
herself.

In the next week the Misses Marble spread the word that his
lordship now received callers, although Libbetty did not hear whether any
villagers ventured to call at The Castle.

On Sunday, the marquess at last returned to church. Again,
he and his uncle left immediately after the service, but no one seemed to
resent this as they did previously. Instead, the villagers had sympathy for
his attempts to regain his health.

The Hogwood ladies called at the vicarage one day the
following week. As Libbetty was not forbidden callers, she joined them at her
mother’s behest. The older girl wore a new gown of pink-and-white striped
taffeta, in a more dashing style than her mother had previously allowed her to
wear, making Libbetty feel dowdy in her school-girlish old blue frock.

The girls sat in a corner of the drawing room. Edwina said,
“You haven’t saved me from Lord Cauldreigh’s attentions.”

“I have been confined to home since Lord Neil revealed I had
been at The Castle with you.” At the other end of the room, Mrs. Hogwood’s
high-pitched voice raved about Lord Cauldreigh’s enchantment with Edwina. At
the other girl’s petulant expression, Libbetty asked, “Are you quite sure you
have not changed your mind about Lord Cauldreigh?”

Edwina tossed her dusky curls. “Goodness, no. He is
forever prosing on about military matters. I could not be married to such a
bore.” She had an air of self-satisfaction that made Libbetty suspect Edwina
obtained some gratification from being the object of his attentions, all the
same.

Her exclusion from events worsened Libbetty’s restlessness,
especially when Edwina said she had ridden with Miss Bassett.

“Sybille is casting out lures in Lord Neil’s direction. He
has not shown any interest in her as yet, but she still has hopes. Of course,
he doesn’t make such a good catch as Cauldreigh, but poor Sybille—what can she
expect, after all?”

“Well, I hope she may expect to do better than to attach a
murderer—if Lord Neil has indeed attempted his nephew’s life.” Libbetty heard
the waspish note in her own voice, but Edwina did not seem to notice. If Miss
Bassett had such ambitions all along, it explained her defense of Lord Neil’s
innocence.

“Of course she would not marry him if he is revealed to be
such a villain. She hopes he will be proven innocent.”

Libbetty noticed Edwina had stopped insisting upon Lord
Neil’s villainy, a departure from her previous stand.

“I hope it turns out well, for her sake,” said Libbetty,
mendaciously. Even if Lord Neil could be stopped from harming his nephew,
through whatever means, such an evil person would make a miserable companion.

“Has Lord Cauldreigh indicated he suspects his uncle’s
designs on his life?” She could not investigate on her own, but she could
question those who did have access to the Coltons.

“We have never discussed such things.” Edwina’s tone was
shocked, and Libbetty had to drop that line of inquiry.

After Sunday service, Neil and Trevor stopped to speak to
the Hogwoods and Miss Bassett. Forcing an outward patience, Neil suffered
Trevor’s eagerness to further his acquaintance in the neighborhood, now that he
had recovered his strength.

“Oh, Lord Cauldreigh, you are such a tease.” With a simper,
Mrs. Hogwood playfully shook a finger at Trevor.

“I assure you, madam, I am perfectly serious. I would never
have guessed you could be the mother of such grown-up children.” Trevor nodded
at Francis and Edwina.

Mrs. Hogwood issued a girlish giggle. Her fawning manner
irritated Neil, and her compliant offspring took their lead from her. Miss
Hogwood was a pretty mantrap with no conversation, and Francis a dolt. Mr.
Hogwood’s sour expression made Neil suspect the squire found his family’s
company as tedious as he did.

A middle-aged man and a young woman approached them, the
woman hanging shyly back. Miss Bassett said, “Lord Cauldreigh, Lord Neil, I
would like to introduce my father and sister to you.” She smiled and cast a
coquettish, sidelong look at Neil.

Startled, he gave Miss Bassett a narrow glance, realized he
had missed Mr. Bassett’s hearty greeting. An unpolished stone, Mr. Bassett’s
good humor made him appear a pleasant acquaintance. Miss Irene, his younger
daughter, stared at the ground and scuffed her feet. With her, at least, he
felt sure he need not suspect any attempt at matchmaking.

Two middle-aged ladies hurried over to be presented, Misses
Marble, spinsters who could never have been pretty even in their bloom. The
younger one dressed in far too youthful a fashion.

The elder one took advantage of the new acquaintance. “Dear
Lord Cauldreigh and Lord Neil, you simply must call on us. Our mother’s health
is too delicate to permit her to leave her home, but she would be most forlorn
if she does not meet you. You know how welcome can be any little break in the
monotony when you are mewed up in the house all the time.”

Trevor, who had frequently expressed to Neil his intimate
knowledge of such boredom, contrived not to hear Miss Marble’s appeal, and thus
Neil was cornered into promising to call.

He knew most of the villagers feared him, but gave an
appearance of befriending him because of his status and fortune, and especially
for his relationship to Trevor.

He couldn’t blame the villagers when he had fostered their
beliefs to trap Trevor’s assailant. So far, the only ones caught in his trap
had been Miss Bishop and the Hayes boy. Clearly he had not been as clever as
he thought. Now he was caught in that trap as well, unable to disclaim his
evil intentions.

He wished he could quit the company of the sycophantic
crowd. However, the only fault Trevor appeared to find with the group was that
Miss Bishop did not join it. He glanced toward the girl a few times, hurt in
his eyes. He had avowed a tendre for the vivacious girl, and asked with
wearisome regularity why she did not call upon him.

Neil yielded to the desire to glance at Miss Bishop himself,
and caught her staring at their group. The look of yearning in her huge blue
eyes was unmistakable, and Neil suddenly realized she had been proscribed the
company of the notorious Coltons. The irony nearly made him let loose a shout
of laughter.

He recalled the cool civility of the Mr. Bishop’s greeting
to him after services, and his reluctance to present his daughter to Neil
several weeks before. The sanctimonious tyrant.

Undoubtedly he had worsened matters a fortnight ago when he
pressed Miss Bishop to call upon Trevor. He imagined the forbidden but
innocent pleasure of her rides in the forest with her friend, plotting to
become acquainted with Trevor. But then he frowned as he recalled her midnight
assault on The Castle.

He shrugged inwardly. She deserved as much chance as the
squire’s daughter to try to attach a title and fortune for herself. He must
think of some way around the narrow-minded reverend.

*

Libbetty’s eyes hurt from the effort not to look at the
Coltons. She longed to be in the laughing cluster around them, but she was
chained to her mother. Mrs. Bishop spoke to various parishioners and waited
for Papa to complete his obligations.

Lord Cauldreigh detached himself from his party and walked
up to her. “Miss Bishop, you have not called upon me in my invalid state. I
have missed you.”

She glanced at her mother, who quickly said, “A vicar’s
daughter has many duties, my lord.”

Libbetty presented her mother and the others who stood with
them to Lord Cauldreigh. “Mrs. Baker is one of your tenants, and Mrs. Slidell
lives in the village.” Privately, she wondered at her mother’s prevarication,
for if she had not exactly lied to him, she hadn’t told him the full truth
either.

Lord Cauldreigh turned his charm on Mrs. Bishop. “Now that
I have recuperated, perhaps I might call at the vicarage.”

Libbetty’s mother averted her gaze and her complexion
pinkened as she murmured, “All our parishioners are always welcome to call at
the vicarage.”

The marquess’s mouth dropped open.

Mrs. Bishop said to Libbetty, “Come, let us go home. We
have much to do this afternoon.” She called to the younger children, who were
playing nearby, and herded them all back to the vicarage.

Libbetty swiveled her head to look at Lord Cauldreigh, who
had an unmistakable expression of hurt and dawning anger. She followed her
mother in silence until the door was shut behind them. Unable to rein in her
emotions, she burst out, “How could you say such things? You lied to him!”

“Children, go up to the nursery. I will join you shortly.”

Floss and Mrs. Berkfield had Sunday afternoons off, and the
younger children customarily spent the time in the drawing room with the
family, engaged in quiet pursuits. They protested this unfair banishment, but
Mrs. Bishop’s stern expression offered no relief of their sentence.

The nursery door slammed behind the children, and Mrs.
Bishop said, “Come into your father’s study, where we may be private.”

Once they had seated themselves there, she said, “In the
first place, your father would have something to say about your impertinence to
me. It shows a want of respect that he would find disturbing. However, I
shall ignore it this once, because I believe you are owed an explanation. I
did not lie, merely avoided saying an unpleasant truth. I could not give
offense.” She plucked at the fringe of her shawl, averting her eyes from
Libbetty, a pink tinge in her cheeks.

“But you did give offense. You did not see Lord
Cauldreigh’s expression, as I did.”

“That is unfortunate, but since he forced his attentions
upon us, it could not be helped. Your father has a great dislike for those
aristocrats who instead of using their wealth and power to help those less
fortunate, use it to lead them to their ruin.”

“I do not understand.”

Mama flushed, her fingers moving faster upon the fringe.
“You do not know the extremes of poverty to which many are reduced. When faced
with starvation, they often agree to commit actions they would otherwise disdain.
Many wealthy, idle persons use this desperation to indulge their own sins.”

Libbetty frowned, more confused than ever. She tried to
picture what sort of sins to which her mother was referring. Pride. Yes, the
Coltons certainly had their share of pride. What came next? Envy. Certainly
not. How could they envy anybody? They had more wealth and position than
almost everyone. Gluttony. No, persons suffering from the sin of gluttony
would probably be fat, and no one could say that of the Coltons. Lust… .

She almost missed what her mother said next, coming to
attention at the words “talk about men and women.”

“What, Mama?”

“I wish to protect you. You should know aristocrats such as
the Coltons marry within their own class. I fear associating with them may
awake expectations in you that are doomed to disappointment and heartbreak.”

Libbetty said, “But Mrs. Hogwood has urged Edwina on. She
is convinced Lord Cauldreigh will offer for her.”

“Miss Hogwood at least has a fortune that makes her less
ineligible. However, I believe the Hogwoods’ hopes are destined to come to
nothing. I think Mrs. Hogwood very foolish to encourage her daughter’s
pursuance of that goal.”

Deep red spread across her cheeks. “Something more I must
say. I’m sure you’ve noticed, when men and women marry, they have a baby soon
after—that is, within a year or so.”

“Er, yes?” Libbetty watched in fascination as the fringe in
her mother’s shawl unraveled.

“Yes. When a man and woman marry, certain…intimacies happen
between them that result in a baby growing.”

That babies grew inside women’s bodies, Libbetty had seen
evidence of during her mother’s last pregnancies, four and seven years before.
This information did not enlighten her about the process. Squirming in her
chair, she stared at her mother, waiting for some key to clear up the mystery.

In a rush, Mrs. Bishop went on, “The thing is, Elizabeth,
you must be careful of your dealings with young men. For an unmarried woman to
have a baby is a most disastrous event.”

Libbetty’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, Mama?”

Her mother glanced up quickly before she went back to her
inspection of her shawl. “You must never allow such intimacies to occur before
you are married.”

Cold pooled in Libbetty’s stomach as she pictured the kisses
she had shared with Wat. “What…intimacies, Mama?”

Her mother swallowed, and seemed to be struggling to find
words. “Women have a secret place in their bodies—and men, that is, when they
embrace in an intimate fashion—men go very close to that secret place. That is
enough for you to know right now. I’m sure I can trust your good judgment.”

Libbetty inhaled deeply. Mama must not mean kisses. Lips
were not secret—they were right there on a person’s face.

Mrs. Bishop stood up. “Elizabeth, when a woman finds the
right man to marry, the closeness between them brings great joy. Your papa and
I have been very happy.”

Afterward, Libbetty went up to her bedchamber. Her sisters
were still in the nursery, so she had the room to herself. Would she truly
have anything to fear from Lord Cauldreigh? She could not believe such a
puppyish, friendly young man would ever set out to ruin a woman. No matter
what her mother had said, she could not be in any danger from Lord Cauldreigh.

Lord Neil—now, it was easy to picture him as the ruin of
many a woman. Even she, who had seen the violent side he usually hid beneath
his ironic manner, was affected by a strange attraction to him. However,
knowing his true nature, she was armed against his appeal. She must persuade
her father to free her from his strictures, so she could unmask Lord Neil for
the villain he was.

*

Neil handed his card to the stout, middle-aged woman who
answered the door and asked, “Is the Reverend Mr. Bishop in?”

“I’ll see,” the servant said, her brow furrowed. “Do you
want to step in?” She went down the hall and knocked at a door.

Neil removed his hat and looked about. All about him were
signs of deterioration—carpet with a worn nap, walls in need of fresh paint.
The noise of children playing outside wafted to him, muted by the stone walls
of the vicarage, but bringing back the image of Miss Bishop as he had seen her
upon his arrival, leaping to reach the shuttlecock, racket in hand.

The servant came back, said, “This way, sir,” and showed him
into the vicar’s study. The vicar sat among furniture Neil remembered from the
time of Bishop’s predecessor, with the classical lines of the previous
century. Two chairs, desk, and a round-top table had been of good quality in
their day. Now they had a faintly shabby, embarrassed appearance, rather like
an elderly, impoverished relative wearing faded, out-of-fashion clothing.

Mr. Bishop stood and extended his hand civilly, though Neil
could see reluctance in his stiff posture and sober expression.

He invited Neil to sit and added, “What may I do for you?
I’m afraid I don’t have a great deal of time to spare this afternoon.” He
indicated his desk, untidily strewn with papers.

“I’ll take no more of your time than necessary.” With an effort,
Neil kept his voice even. The man trod the thin edge of courtesy. “I came
here to discuss repairs to the vicarage.”

“Indeed. What made you conclude the vicarage needs
renovations?”

“Actually, it was your daughter.”

“Elizabeth told you that the vicarage needed restoration?”
The sour expression on the vicar’s face told Neil that would be very unwelcome
news.

“No. I should explain. When she accompanied Miss Hogwood
on a charitable call to my ailing nephew, she told him that many of his farms
were falling into disrepair. I’m afraid Reynolds never mentioned the fact to
us. However, now that Cauldreigh has nearly recuperated, such matters will be
undertaken.”

A small smile crossed Mr. Bishop’s face. “I am glad to hear
it, sir. There has been some hardship in the village.”

“Yes, I have instructed Reynolds not to withhold such
information from us in the future. My nephew was greatly impressed with your
daughter’s knowledge and concern for the families of Peasebotham. He much
appreciated her kindness, and that of Miss Hogwood, in calling on him in his
invalid state.”

Having made as much of a point as he dared, Neil changed the
subject, pressed the vicar further on the subject of repairs to the church and
vicarage and obtained a list. “I have a request to make, Mr. Bishop,” he added
before he left.

*

At dinner that night, Mr. Bishop gazed at his wife and said,
“Lord Neil Colton paid his respects today.”

“Why, whatever did he want, Mr. Bishop?”