Sally James (11 page)

Later Denzil arrived to escort Miranda back to Green Street, and after greetings, Araminta lapsed into an uncharacteristically quiet mood. Denzil glanced at her, puzzled.

“Are you weary after the ball?” he asked solicitously.

“No, of course not,” she laughed. “I was just thinking Miranda is the only female, apart from Judith, who has ever been seen driving with you in your curricle. I suppose you have it now?”

He nodded, amused. “I make an exception for my ward.”

Araminta laughed, and turned to Miranda.

“I do believe he fears for his famous horses, though I know I would never be allowed to handle the ribbons! Could you not make an exception for me too?” she wheedled, and Denzil realising he could not refuse so direct a request without appearing churlish, smilingly agreed.

“Shall I call for you tomorrow morning?” he asked, and delighted at having manoeuvred this concession, which would mark her in the eyes of the world as especially favoured, Araminta assented eagerly.

Chapter Eight

The next morning Miranda was herself driving with the Earl of Devoran when she saw Denzil sweep through the gates of the Park with Araminta seated triumphantly beside him.

“Good God!” the Earl ejaculated when he too saw this amazing sight. “Denzil has never before driven a female, apart from yourself.”

“So I understand, but have you any notion why not?”

“I imagine he did not wish to single anyone out. But this is unheard of! Has he – er – have they – ?” He stopped in some confusion, but Miranda spoke quickly.

“Oh, there is Mary Fellowes with her brother. Pray let us stop and speak with them!”

Tom thankfully abandoned the topic of Denzil’s odd behaviour and drove towards the Fellowes’ curricle, but he, like most of the other people in the Park, did his best to keep Denzil in view.

Araminta was relishing to the full the astonished looks that were being thrown her way, and did not care how many times Denzil had to pull up in response to hails from his friends or hers. But eventually they came to a quieter part, and he commented approvingly on her hat, a jaunty bonnet that framed her face delightfully.

“It becomes you excessively. I do not recall having seen it before.”

“No, I have only recently purchased it.”

“Not particularly for this expedition?” he asked teasingly.

“No, indeed. But I have found a new milliner, Therese, who is wonderful! She has the most delectable creations. I could wish to buy every one I see!”

“Therese? Oh yes, I believe I have heard of her.” He recalled with some amusement having been beguiled into accompanying another female to that establishment some months previously, then he tensed, and his horses, feeling the pull on the reins, broke into a trot. For a moment he remained in deeply abstracted thought, and then brought them back to a walk. Araminta looked at him curiously, but soon began to describe another hat she had ordered.

He responded politely but without enthusiasm. She was piqued, and did her utmost to be entertaining, but as he contributed only the briefest remarks in reply, it was hard going for her. They circled the Park again slowly, and it was obvious to Araminta that he was searching for someone. She was inclined to be petulant, when he suddenly turned the curricle and drove it up to where Miranda and Tom Devoran had halted to converse with some men on horseback.

He stopped and greeted them, and replied courteously to their comments, but left most of the conversation to the others. From the glances Araminta stole at him, he seemed to be studying Miranda with marked intensity, and puzzled as much as irritated, she wondered what had come over him.

They parted from the others, but had only gone a short distance when he suggested taking her home.

“You are looking cold,” he said, and despite her protests that she was perfectly comfortable, chose to overrule her, telling her firmly there was no need to be polite with him.

Fuming inwardly at this abrupt end to her triumphant drive, she had to submit while he took her home, and to see him drive away without even coming in, on the excuse that he did not care to leave his horses standing in the cold.

* * * *

She would have been even more out of temper with him if she had been able to see the pampered pair a few minutes later, standing outside the premises of her milliner, Therese. Denzil’s abstraction had been caused by a sudden recollection of where he had seen someone who resembled Miranda. On his previous visit to the milliner, Therese herself had been occupied with a duchess, and one of her assistants had attended to them. He had been struck at the time by her unusual colouring, hair so pale as to be almost white, and unusually large and vivid blue eyes. He had to make sure.

Therese was this time not busy, and having heard rumours both of his imminent betrothal, and of his ward, for whom presumably he would be buying hats, she rustled forward to greet him. He commented on the charming hat she had made for Miss Floode, and said he had something similar in mind as a gift for his ward. He looked round as he spoke for signs of the assistant he had come to see, but she was not visible. At last he had to be more direct.

When Therese had shown him several bonnets, he selected one with a high poke, and smiled in satisfaction.

“This will be ideal, but I would prefer some different trimming. I remember that when I was here before, one of your assistants concocted a most unusual trimming for me. I wonder if I could speak with her, and see whether she can do something similar for this one?”

Therese was a little surprised, but nodded graciously, for she did not wish to offend a potentially valuable customer. She retired to the back of the premises, returning in a few moments.

“Mademoiselle le Brun will be with you immediately, Sir Denzil.”

When she came, the shock almost took Denzil’s breath away. He had paid little attention to her before, apart from remarking her hair and eyes, but now he studied her closely.

She smiled shyly at him, and asked what it was she could do. Slowly he explained while he considered her, and made excuses to prolong their consultation by being excessively particular when she made suggestions, demanding she demonstrate exactly what she had in mind.

Meanwhile he noted all he could about her.

She was, he surmised, in her late thirties, though she looked older, and he decided that this was because of the indefinable sad expression in her eyes and the droop of her shoulders. Her hair, exceptionally blonde in colour, was drawn tightly back from her face. There were, when he looked closely, several grey hairs, but they did not show against the other pale ones. Her resemblance to Miranda was remarkable, despite the differences in their ages. She was not so tall, and more heavily built, but her features, despite the lines on her face, were very similar. It was in the eyes, however, that the main resemblance lay. There was the same deep colour and long dark lashes, but more strikingly, the look that had stayed with him since his early meetings with Miranda. He could not describe it apart from saying it was haunted. There was a faraway dreaminess, mixed with sorrow and apprehension, though in Mademoiselle the sorrow was accentuated.

She spoke with a faint accent, and after he had talked with her for a while he asked where she came from.

“I am French, Sir Denzil,” she replied, startled at such a question from a customer.

“Oh, I wondered, for your accent is so very slight. It is in a way similar to my own county.”

She smiled politely.

“I thought you might have come from Cornwall,” he persevered, watching her closely.

She started, flashed him a terrified look from her huge eyes, and then turned slightly away.

“No, indeed, I have never been there! I have spent most of the time since I came from France in London! Rarely have I been out of London!”      

He set himself to calm her by talking of the hats, realising that Therese was regarding them oddly, for he was being a most difficult customer. He ordered a bonnet for Judith too, hoping Mademoiselle le Brun would not be censured for any imagined incompetence.

“I will ask my sister to call for them both. You will have them ready in a day or so?” he asked.

“Tomorrow, Sir Denzil,” Therese gushed, and was most attentive as she showed him out.

* * * *

He drove home to Mount Street deep in thought, and then determined to go and see Judith at once. He walked round to Green Street and was shown up to the drawing room, but before he could have private speech with his sister he had to make polite conversation to the morning callers he found there.

Immediately they had gone she turned to him. “I hear that you have been driving with Araminta,” she said, half accusingly.

“The devil! I believe one can scarce change a shirt without the news flying about the town!”

She laughed. “I would not be surprised! But you must confess it is a singular occurrence. Is it wise?”

“I doubt it.” He told her how Araminta had extracted the invitation from him, and she laughed a little grimly.

“The gossips will be watching you even more avidly now.”

“That does not concern me. But Judith, there is something that does, far more, and I need your help.”

She raised her eyebrows enquiringly. “Well?”

“Have you heard of the milliner Therese?”

Surprised, she nodded. “Yes, she is quite in vogue, but I have never patronised her. I am happy with Celeste.”

“Nonetheless, dearest sister, you are going to patronise Therese for me, at least for a while.”

“Why?”

“I wish to engage my interest with one of her assistants,” he teased.

“Denzil!” Judith was outraged.

“Not in the way you think, Judith, my dear! Why must you always think the worst of my actions?” Suddenly he was serious. “I am convinced the woman I have just seen is Miranda’s mother.”

Judith stared at him in amazement.

“What did you say?” she asked faintly.

He told her of the nagging memory, then Araminta’s remarks that had led him to recall the assistant at Therese’s, and his subsequent visit there. He did not explain how he had previously had occasion to visit the milliner, and Judith discreetly passed over that part of the story.

“I am as sure as I can be she is either Miranda’s mother – she is the right age – or a very close relative. Also, I managed to ask her if she had ever been to Cornwall, and she shied away from it like a startled deer. She denied it far too vehemently.”

“If you are right, what shall we do?”

“First, I want you to go and see her tomorrow, and tell me what you think, whether I am seeing fantasies! I have paved the way by ordering bonnets for you and Miranda,” he told her, and laughed at the expression on her face.

“No!” she rejected them.

“Do you mean you refuse to go, or will not accept my bribe?”

“Oh, I will go,” she said quickly. “I am as anxious as you to solve the mystery of Miranda’s birth.”

“Then you refuse my hats?”

“What do you know about choosing bonnets?” she demanded, but decided not to pursue the subject when he laughingly assured her he was considered an expert by some females.

“You will not take Miranda? After you have seen the woman, we must decide what next to do. Shall I come and drive out with Miranda?”

“There is no need. She is going with Richard Fellowes to see some more of the city.”

“Does she spend a great deal of time with Richard?”

“Yes, for they have much in common. She is far more knowledgeable about books than most girls of her age, and he is somewhat of a scholar.”

“Do you think he has a tendre for her?”

Judith glanced at him quickly. “I am certain of it. I have been expecting him to speak these several weeks, to either you or me, but he is cautious, and inclined he act slowly. If he does not speak he will find he is cut out by the Earl of Devoran.”

“I saw her with young Tom this morning. Is he serious too?”

Judith nodded. “I think so. He is always here, and scarcely allows her out of his sight.”

“Does she seem to favour either of them?”

“No one more than the other. And there are a dozen more, but I suspect those two are most in the running.”

“Either would make an excellent match,” Denzil mused. “And I do not think either of them would care a rap about her background. But if we do not discover her parentage soon, it could put me in something of a quandary if they apply to me as her guardian.”

“You must have foreseen this.”

“I suppose so. But to tell the truth I was so determined to get her away from that damned island I did not worry about such complications.”

“Even if Sir Henry is her father, can he have any rights over her?”

“Legally I suppose he can, if he can prove he is her father, though if he should wish to harm her, or spoil her prospects, I will threaten him with exposure that will ruin him utterly!”

“I thought you had that in mind in the beginning?” she said softly.

“Yes, I did. But not public exposure now if I can avoid it. It would distress Miranda, and that is more important than my revenge.”

Judith nodded in agreement, and there was a brief pause. She looked at him consideringly as he sat staring into the fire.

“Do you mean to encourage her to marry one of them?” she asked quietly.

“I shall not urge her against her wishes,” he said, glancing quickly at her. “But it would be the best solution, if she loves either Richard or Tom, for her to marry.”

“Why do you not marry her yourself?”

Denzil half rose from his chair, startled.

“Why do you suggest that?” he asked evenly after a slight pause.

Judith smiled. “Denzil, you are a fool!”

“Oh? Why do you think that?”

“I can restrain myself no longer! Have you not seen the child is in love with you? It has been perfectly obvious to me since the first day you brought her to me! And it is also clear to me you are in love with her! Why do you not marry her yourself? You are longing to do so, and yet you are prepared to see her unhappy, and sacrifice yourself, by encouraging her to marry someone she does not care a rap for! You make me wild enough to hit you!”