Miss Hartwell's Dilemma (9 page)

“I fear,” said Miss Hartwell, “that Louise is not one of our more vigorous walkers. She will not be among the group, and since you are come ostensibly to see her, it will not do.”

“Not a vigorous walker, eh?” said his lordship grimly. “I’ve never seen a child with as much energy in my life. Let me have but one word with her and we shall see if she is not a vigorous walker.”

Laughing, Amaryllis gave in. Nor did Louise put up much of a fight, when told that Uncle Bertram would take her into the village for luncheon first.

When word spread that Miss Hartwell’s group was to have a dashing male escort, its numbers doubled instantly. For the first quarter mile across the flat, green meadows Lord Pomeroy was inundated with blushes and giggles, but he had a decade of experience in damping the pretensions of schoolroom misses. They soon gave up and left him in peace.

With the girls walking ahead, his lordship made several efforts to draw Amaryllis away from the path they had taken. She avoided this as neatly as he had avoided the snares of her charges, and they all returned together to the village some two hours later. Suffering from varying degrees of weariness, they ambled through the narrow, winding streets between pastel-washed cottages of wattle and daub, the larger brick houses of the merchants, and crooked black-and-white Tudor buildings, until the party came to the tiny triangle of open space known inaccurately as Falcon Square.

Lord Pomeroy took one look at the façade of the Falcon Inn, one of the oldest and crookedest of the timber-framed buildings, another look at Louise’s hot face, and suggested tea all round. His popularity instantly restored, he led the way into the cool, dim interior. Bowing, he invited the young ladies to seat themselves and went to consult the landlady.

Pots of tea and pitchers of lemonade appeared, followed by platters piled high with hot muffins and cream cakes. Bertram sat down with Amaryllis at a small table to one side, took a deep draught from his tankard of ale, and leaned back in his chair to watch the devastation.

“You must starve them,” he exclaimed.

“Not at all, only we do not have cream cakes on the menu unless someone has a birthday. We give them healthy foods like brollycolly.” Half against her will, she told him about her interview with Ned.

“That settles it,” he said firmly. “I shall move to Castle Hedingham this very evening and propriety be damned.”

“Then you think it likely that the Spaniard will create some sort of mischief?”

“Not at all likely.” He grinned. “But it gives me an excellent excuse to see you every day.”

She was unable to dissuade him, though she tried once more when they returned to the school. In spite of herself, she was relieved to have him nearby, so she felt doubly guilty when she realised she had not told him she would marry him.

It was too late for today. He had gone back to Halstead to arrange the removal of his gear, his valet, and his groom to the Blue Boar. By spreading his largesse among the various hostelries, he hoped to win to his side the innkeepers who were probably the village’s greatest gossips. With luck they might scotch any scandal for fear of losing his custom.

Not that he cared if the yokels talked about Amaryllis. It could not make the slightest difference to his intention to marry her. But it would make her uncomfortable and so was best avoided, just as long as the avoidance did not cause him any inconvenience.

Chapter 7

Miss Hartwell, feeling unaccountably tired, went upstairs with the intention of lying down on her bed until it was time to change for dinner. She was halfway up the last flight when Daisy called to her from the landing below.

“Miss, miss, it’s Miss Isabel’s Pa asking to see you.”

“Drat!” said Miss Hartwell in an unaccustomed outburst of vulgarity. “What ails the man now?” The thought of going all the way down to the ground floor, and later climbing all the way back, made her legs ache. “Where are Miss Tisdale and Mrs. Vaux, Daisy?”

“Miss is in the common-room, and Madam is laid down on her bed, miss.”

“Then pray show Lord Daniel to the private drawing room. We shall not be disturbed there.”

A fire had been laid in the drawing room, but not yet lit. Though the afternoon had been warm, autumn announced itself in the chill of approaching evening. Miss Hartwell sank onto a comfortably overstuffed sofa and wished she could put her feet up. A moment later Daisy ushered in Lord Daniel.

“Will I light the fire, miss?” she enquired.

“Not on my account,” said his lordship. “I shall not stay more than a moment.”

“Light a pair of candles, Daisy, if you please. Pray be seated, my lord, even if it is for two minutes, because I am tired and I do not wish to have to crane my neck to see you.”

He laughed and sat down. Again she wondered at the change wrought in his face by the alteration of expression. His laugh sounded rusty from disuse, and she was glad to have provoked it.

“What a charming room this is,” he said, glancing around.

Surprised, she followed his gaze. She had grown so accustomed to the furnishings she scarcely noticed them. The flowered chintzes and apple-green carpet, though faded, were certainly cheerful; and the pale yellow walls made it seem sunny on even the dreariest days. How odd in him to comment on it. She looked at him with suspicion. Was he trying to turn her up sweet?

She dismissed the possibility. From what she had seen of his character, it was more that he was simply making an unwonted effort to be pleasant. “Thank you,” she said hurriedly, in some confusion. “It is our favourite room, though we do not often have time to sit here during the school year. What can I do for you, sir?”

“I think it proper to inform you that I am sending Isabel’s pony over to be stabled in the village. She greatly misses her daily ride. Naturally, you cannot be expected to provide mounts for your pupils.”

“Nor do I have time to accompany her. You will not wish your daughter to ride unsupervised.”

“No. I had not thought. However, one of my grooms may ride over to take her out.”

Amaryllis phrased her next words carefully. He was obviously in a conciliatory mood and she had no desire to offend him.

“I am sorry, my lord, but I believe I should be wrong to permit this. I told you at our first meeting that we do not have extras or parlour boarders. Isabel is already favoured in that you visit her weekly. Some of the girls receive no visitors at all. I cannot think it fair that Isabel should be especially privileged, and I do not care to see her singled out as an object for envy and spite.” Seeing that he was bewildered, she added gently, “I know that you love her very deeply and want only the best for her. It is not always easy to know what is best. I admire your willingness to send her to school. I hope you will agree with me that her relationship with the other girls is more important than her riding.”

The bitter look was back on his face. For a moment, remembering what Isabel had said of his quarrels with neighbours and relatives, she wondered if he would tell her riding was more important than friendship. However, he assented without demur.

“Is Isabel a good student?” he asked hesitantly.

“Excellent. She reads extremely well for her age, and what is more significant in the long run, she is interested in everything and studies hard. Her manners are also much improved.”

He flushed, but nonetheless looked proud. “And she has made friends? You described her as a retiring child, I remember.”

“She is still quiet, but she is on good terms with the other girls. One cannot expect her to suddenly become sociable when she has been used to solitude. However, Louise Carfax is still her bosom-bow. Indeed, you would have thought me to have windmills in my head to call her retiring had you seen the pair of them the other day.” She described the anti-rain dance. To her delight, it drew another laugh from him.

“Miss Carfax sounds like an enterprising young lady,” he remarked, then added thoughtfully, “You say that some girls receive no visits? Should you object if I asked Isabel to invite a few of her friends to Wimbish for the day?”

“What a kind notion,” exclaimed Amaryllis in amazement.

“I can send the carriage over early,” he went on, oblivious to her relief or her surprise. “The apples are ripening in the orchard. Perhaps they will like to pick some to bring back to school. I daresay you will wish to chaperone them?”

“Someone must go with them. Miss Tisdale, or perhaps Mrs. Vaux…”

“I hope you will choose to come yourself. You are Isabel’s favourite teacher.”

“‘I...Thank you, that will be delightful.” To her annoyance she felt herself blushing, which was utterly unjustified by his tone. He had sounded detached, as if he did not care who went except insofar as it affected his daughter. Not that there was the least reason to suppose that he had any other motive.

He stood up, an ironic gleam in his eye. “Next Sunday then. Will half past nine suit you?”

“Y—yes. Yes, that will do very well.”

He bowed and took his leave.

Windmills in the head indeed! Amaryllis scolded herself. How could she have allowed a noted rake to talk her into accompanying a group of young ladies to his lair? She must at least make sure that Isabel invited the youngest possible, though she had heard alarming tales of libertines with a taste for little girls. Had not the notorious Harriette Wilson and her sisters joined the muslin company at an amazingly early age? She must keep her wits about her and not let any of them out of her sight. Yet apple picking sounded a thoroughly innocent pastime...

Heavens! she thought suddenly, sitting bolt upright, Bertram expected to see her next Sunday. What on earth would he think when he learned that instead of spending the day with him, she was going to traipse off across the county to call upon another gentleman? And that gentleman a notorious rake!

The moment had come, she decided as she once more climbed the stair to her chamber, to consult Tizzy and her aunt. Immediately after dinner, she hurried them up to the drawing room.

“I cannot imagine why you are in such a rush,” complained Mrs. Vaux as she settled into a chair by the fire. “I did not have time for a dish of apple charlotte, and you know it is my favourite. Cook makes a very fine apple charlotte.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Eugenia.” Amaryllis hugged her. “I will ask Daisy to fetch you some when she brings the tea. I have a great deal to discuss with you.”

“‘Nothing is secret which shall not be made manifest.’ Luke 8, verse 17. I expect Lord Pomeroy still wishes to marry you?”

“Yes, he does. How did you guess, Tizzy? Though I suppose it is unlikely that he should have stayed in the neighbourhood only to see Louise.”

“Highly unlikely,” observed Miss Tisdale drily.

 “Bertram has offered for your hand again? How splendid!” Mrs. Vaux clapped her hands. “At last I shall see you Lady Pomeroy, with your own house and carriage and no duns at the door. Lord Tatenhill is as warm a man as any peer in the country, I daresay, and he is no nipcheese. La! You will have more pin money than we spend in a year.”

“If I marry him, the world will call it creampot love,” said her niece slowly. “I had not thought of that. And the scandalmongers will all be raking over Papa’s conduct.”

“If? Never say you have not accepted, Amaryllis? Indeed you must not play fast and loose with him again. A gentleman cannot be expected to come up to scratch time after time.”

“What is the sticking point?” asked Miss Tisdale. “The old scandal? If his lordship does not regard it I am sure you need not. Or is it concern for myself and your aunt? There are always governesses in want of employment, my dear, and now that you have everything running smoothly we may easily find someone to take your place, though naturally we should miss you.”

Since Amaryllis had urged this to her aunt when they were discussing Tizzy marrying the vicar, she could hardly demur.

“Those objections are not so easily dismissed,” she said with a frown. “However, the main problem is that I am not at all sure I wish to be married to Bertram!”

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Vaux was now near tears with vexation. “He is charming and good-looking and wealthy and complaisant and he loves you to distraction. What more can you possibly ask for in a husband? If I ever heard anything so chuckleheaded.”

“It is indeed difficult to argue against such a list of virtues, Aunt. Perhaps I am being goosish. But I have promised that this time, if I accept his hand, I shall immediately set the date and not tease him with delays. It would be the outside of enough to throw my cap over the windmill while I have doubts.”

“You have been long too independent to decide easily to commit yourself to the care of another,” agreed Miss Tisdale. “I am sure you will do what is best. Is Lord Pomeroy fixed in the country indefinitely?”

“That he is willing to bear the tedium for my sake ought to be enough to persuade me,” said Amaryllis gloomily. “However, he has insisted upon removing from Halstead to Castle Hedingham, so I expect I shall see him more often.”

Mrs. Vaux brightened. She caught herself just in time not to blurt out that there would be no end of gossip. Amaryllis would have to marry him in the end to foil the gossipmongers, and though she would miss her niece quite dreadfully, it was her dearest wish to see her happily wed.

“Another thing I must tell you about,” Amaryllis went on, “is the reason he is come to the village, which is not merely impatience to be near me.” She explained how both his lordship and Ned had seen a mysterious Spaniard making enquiries about the school.

Mrs. Vaux emitted a faint shriek. “Your Papa will be the death of me yet,” she wailed. “Perhaps if we tell the man that Henry is in Philadelphia, he will go off to America and leave us in peace?”

“I cannot suppose, ma’am, that there is the slightest connection,” said Miss Tisdale firmly, looking daggers at Amaryllis.

“Oh no, Aunt Eugenia,” she said shamefaced. “I did not mean to alarm you. It is vastly unlikely after six years. Only Bertram has taken a bee in his bonnet and uses it as an excuse to hover over me. Which is most unfortunate at this precise moment, because I have accepted an invitation.”