The Earl's Revenge (8 page)

“It must at least be embarrassing to meet him again.”

“For whom?” she exclaimed. “Certainly not for me. I only met the man six times in my life.”

“What?” Anne countered in amazement. “But you were betrothed to him!”

“You know it was an arranged match. I did not even learn of it until after everything was settled. He was cold, arrogant, and contemptuous, interested only in getting an heir, and he thought me a boring child unworthy of his notice. He only accompanied me to my first ball out of duty. After that he stood up with me if we happened to be at the same function – which rarely occurred, for even then he eschewed the marriage mart rounds. That certainly hasn’t changed if one can believe the gossip columns.”

“You shock me!” replied Anne. “He offered for you yet paid you not the least attention?”

“Why did you think I cried off? Not because I deplore society – though I will never fit in, so that played a role. It was because he would never have lifted a finger to support me against his mother’s tyranny. With my aunt so infirm, I was spending much of my time with Lady Bridgeport, and it was obvious that we would never agree on anything, yet he would have left me in her keeping.” She shrugged.

“Why have you said nothing of this before?”

“Why should I? It was over.”

“The tale is bound to come out,” insisted Anne.

“Fustian! No one has connected me with him before, and he can hardly wish to publicize my identity. What man would remind the world that he has been jilted? Such a disclosure would be ungentlemanly. Despite everything, he has never been less than honorable.”

“I cannot believe that he is honorable,” protested Anne. “By your own words, I know him to be a rake, a gamester, and a man who scorns to even go through the motions of respecting his betrothed. I heard more than the fact of his arrival. Mrs. Hedges claims that he is rusticating because he killed a man.”

“Absurd!” scoffed Elaine. “Where would even a Nosy Parker like Mrs. Hedges hear such a thing? I can just see it. An earl kills a man, escapes to rusticate in the country, then announces his dilemma to all and sundry, so they will know to turn the runners away.”

Anne laughed. “It might have been servants, of course. But you must recall that Mrs. Hedges corresponds regularly with a cousin who lives in London. The woman writes every bit of scandal she hears. And Mrs. Hedges claims that the tale was all over Bodmin yesterday – including the detail that the earl was on his way to Cornwall.”

“Who is he supposed to have killed?”

“It seems his lordship was conducting an affair with the newly married Lady Wainright. Her husband discovered the arrangement and challenged Bridgeport to a duel. Desirous of winning the fair beauty and her substantial fortune for himself, he cunningly tipped his sword in a slow poison acquired from a friend who recently returned from South America. When he pinked Wainright in the arm, the poison entered his body, killing him in less than a week.”

Elaine doubled over with laughter. It took some time to regain her breath. “I will credit the liaison, for he has never hidden the fact that he is a rake. I might even credit the duel. But a South American poison? How can people be so credulous?”

“There is more,” said Anne grimly. “His parents died three years ago in a carriage accident. But the circumstances were so odd that many suspect that it was not accidental. He had always been at odds with them and came into a considerable fortune on their deaths.”

“I know that he was flirting with poverty when I knew him, for his allowance was not large, and his gaming was legendary. But this is the first I have heard that their deaths might not be natural. And you know I always read the London papers. What happened?”

“Again, I know only what Mrs. Hedges claims. They were returning home from a dinner party when an oak tree fell, crushing the coach. It happened on the estate grounds, just inside the gates. All were killed, including two of the horses.”

“Trees do occasionally come down,” pointed out Elaine.

“True, but this was a clear night with no wind. There had been no rain for some time, and the groundskeeper was amazed that the tree would fall for there was no evidence of rot.”

“I suppose people believe that it was deliberately tampered with.”

“That is the story currently making the rounds.”

“But why was it not rumored earlier? Such a delicious tale would certainly have made the gossip columns, especially considering the new Bridgeport’s notoriety.”

“Without evidence, who would dare hint at so dastardly a deed?” asked Anne. “But with this latest death, many lips appear to have become unsealed.”

“Lack of evidence has never killed any rumor, which leaves me curious about why it should surface now – and in Cornwall, of all places. But whatever the truth, it cannot touch us.”

“I suppose you are right,” conceded Anne. “But I cannot forget your arrival, my dear – so frightened and forlorn. Your peace is too hard-won to give it up without a fight.”

“What fustian! I was exhausted from a four-day journey on the common stage and terrified that my father would pursue me. Bridgeport – or Staynes as he was styled then – had nothing to do with it.”

“Perhaps I misunderstood. After all, I do not really know what happened. I was so down-pin at the time that I could rouse little curiosity, and I never asked afterward, fearing a discussion would distress you.”

“Not at all. I already told you I barely knew the man. The real problem was my father. You well know how he is.”

Anne shuddered. “Had he not mellowed at all then?”

“Quite the reverse. Each year his beliefs grew more rigid, and he became more judgmental. I rarely saw him after you left, for he sent me to live with his sister, but his demeanor upon my return told me that nothing had changed. Aunt Fanny accompanied me home, of course. We were not even into the house before he berated her for allowing me to expose myself like a Paphian – my traveling gown came to my neck but did not cover it. When I objected, he demanded that I spend two hours on my knees in prayer, asking forgiveness for immodesty, disobedience, and speaking out of turn. Following a supper of bread and water, he informed me that I would be married in one month and would spend the interim in London with my great-aunt.”

“Good heavens!”

“Exactly. He made it clear what the penalty would be if I objected. Not that I would have, for I was thrilled at the idea of marriage, believing nothing could be worse than staying at home. And that was true, though barely. Lord Staynes turned out to be a notorious rake with no intention of abandoning his pleasures. His mother was just like Father – dictatorial and delighted to administer punishment. The only difference was that Lady Bridgeport made her own rules instead of enforcing strict adherence to Biblical injunctions.”

“I am certainly glad you came to me then.”

“As am I. You have opened my mind to wondrous ideas. Much of what I know and most of what I believe, I learned from you, Anne. And if you had not championed my talent to Mr. Beringer, I would never have had the opportunity to make a career of my art. But what I am today began even before I arrived. I never really considered it before, but jilting Lord Staynes was the best thing I ever did. It freed me of much more than an unwanted betrothal.”

“What do you mean?”

Elaine frowned, trying to express concepts that she barely understood. “That was the first decision I had ever made for myself. It was terrifying, but at the same time, it was empowering. I cannot really describe the feeling. After seventeen years of doing exactly as I was told, thinking and acting on my own was a remarkable experience.”

“Empowering,” repeated Anne. “Yes, it would be.”

“But freedom without knowledge is worthless,” declared Elaine, embarrassed to have talked so much. “And you are entirely responsible for that. Even if many of your ideas originated with Mary Wollstonecraft, it was your teaching that brought them to life.”

“You are putting me to the blush,” Anne protested. “Shall we eat?”

Elaine nodded.

She was not quite as complacent about the arrival of Bridgeport as she had claimed. Not that he had entertained the slightest affection for her. But there was one aspect of his character that she had not mentioned. He had a quick temper, especially when his consequence was threatened.

There had been no way she could both formally break off the betrothal and escape unnoticed. She had considered sending him a note, but had not been able to do so without betraying either her plans or her direction. As a result, he would have learned of her flight from her father, an insult he would not soon forget – not that she had worried about his reaction at the time.

She remained quiet throughout their light meal, her mind mired in the events of eight years earlier. Staynes had been such a stranger that she had felt nothing for him, good or bad. Her fears had all centered on her father. Refusing the match he had ordained was blatantly unfilial. And once she did, no one would offer for her in the future. Fury at having a despised daughter permanently on his hands would have prompted Grimfield’s harshest restrictions. And so she had fled him.

Escape had not been as hard as she had anticipated. The other aspect of her father’s rigidity was that he would never waste time or money chasing after a sinner. All she had needed to do was escape unnoticed and leave no obvious trail for him to follow.

Mindful of the proprieties, she’d taken her maid along. They had slipped out of the house as soon as the butler finished closing up for the night. Her aunt was not social, keeping early hours even though she lived in London. With a wedding scheduled for the next day, the household was asleep by ten.

Elaine had been able to hire a hackney on the corner that took them to the Swan with Two Necks where, using assumed names, they bought seats on the stage. With her unprepossessing wardrobe, no one suspected that she might be quality. Her only other evasion was to call herself Elaine when they arrived at Anne’s. If word of a Miss Thompson in the wilds of Cornwall reached Lord Grimfield, the difference in given name would discourage him from investigating. Thompson was common enough.

* * * *

Mark seethed. Miss Beddoes had indeed broken a hip – shattered it, in fact – and would be permanently confined to bed. Whatever remained of her life would be spent at Treselyan. He hoped for her sake – and, to some extent, for his own – that it would be short. This was a deuced inconvenient spot to find servants.

The household was grossly understaffed, the demands caused by Helen, himself, and their small entourages taxing it to the limits. The accident simply made matters worse. Mrs. Burgess had found only two girls and one lad who wished to go into service. None were trained. The girls were fifteen and could do little more than care for Miss Beddoes, who needed round-the-clock nursing. Ted was officially a footman, but of necessity his duties included cleaning.

Federsham’s nose was thoroughly out of joint from being ordered to clean his master’s room. He had finally condescended, making clear that unless it was a
very
temporary condition, he would find other employment.

Rose’s mother had been suffering from influenza, which the girl had now caught. That left the Burgesses, Cook, and himself to look after Helen.

Mark might have included Mr. Bowles in that group, but his meeting with the man had already convinced him that the steward was ineffectual and stupid. Replacing the man was an urgent need. And Helen was right. Mr. Bowles did indeed sport an angry face that remained so even through ingratiating fawning.

“How delightful that you could find time in your busy schedule to visit so insignificant an estate, my lord,” Bowles gushed when Bridgeport called him into the library. “It is an honor to serve you, my lord, and a rare pleasure to make your acquaintance–”

“Just so.” Mark interrupted what had promised to be a lengthy accolade. Bowles’s eyes blazed in fury, belying the smile that stretched his lipless mouth. “There are a number of changes I wish to make which we will discuss later. For now, I want you to augment the staff so that we have reasonable service.”

“Of course, my lord. At once, though you must understand that it will take time. There is no one in the village we can call on, though surely we can find willing workers in Bodmin. Or in Exeter, though that would take longer, of course, it being on the other side of the next county; and not too many girls are happy to serve in so isolated a house these days, despite the owner being an earl; then, of course, there are those pesky rumors about your lordship, not that I believe for one minute that such shocking tales are true, but one must contend with the credulous nature of the servant cla—”

“Just do it!” snapped Bridgeport, cutting off the dithering voice and motioning him out of the library. Mark stormed off in another direction. He knew what the immediate future held all too well. The only person at Treselyan who was not already overburdened with work was himself. Thus the logical person to look after Helen was the girl’s father, the seventh Earl of Bridgeport. He had never had the slightest use for infants. But he swallowed both pride and trepidation, and agreed to accompany her on a walk he prayed would wear her out.

What a naïve fool! The minx was in fine fettle. She dragged him hither and yon for two hours, showing him dozens of treasures, most of them dubious, and increasing his desire to join Federsham in quitting the premises.

“Look, Papa!” she exclaimed again, pulling her hand out of his and running away from the cliff path.

“What?” He tried to keep the surliness out of his voice. It wasn’t Helen’s fault that events had fallen out this way. But at the moment, he wished she had never been born – or at least that she were still in Yorkshire.

She darted back with a stalk covered with tiny flowers. “Isn’t it pretty? And it matches your waistcoat.”

He stared, hardly believing that so young a girl could be uttering the same inanities that he heard from every marriageable chit in town. But she was right. The golden flower was an almost perfect match. And her voice was sincere, something he heard so seldom he almost hadn’t recognized it. “It is lovely,” he agreed. “And it matches your dress as well.”