The Heart's Companion (10 page)

"Because you disdain the smell of the shop," Jane offered.

Sir Helmsdon stiffened. "That is an unkind cut. Not only to me, but to several young women I could name who are well brought up. I would even venture to say they possess a delicacy of manner beyond most young women of society."

Jane looked at him skeptically. "I agree. But if you truly feel so, why have you not married one of them?"

He sighed. "Walk with me a moment, Miss Grantley, and I will tell you," he said, extending his arm to her.

Surprised at his almost humble manner, Jane placed her arm on his. He proceeded to lead her about the room. The musicians were warming up, and sets were assembling. Jane saw Lord Royce lead Millicent out to join the dance. She wished she were lining up to dance, but it appeared Sir Helmsdon was inclined to talk, and she felt obligated to listen.

"The truth," he said after some moments, recalling her wandering thoughts, "is that I am a most foolish fellow. I have it in my head to only marry for love. I know—I know—" he went on hurriedly, "that is an impractical notion, given my unfortunate circumstances in life. Nonetheless, it is why I have heretofore evaded the parson’s trap."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Trap, sir?"

"A poor turn of phrase for such a serious subject. In a sense true, however. Without love, marriage would be a trap."

Jane halted and looked up at Sir Helmsdon. "What are you trying to say, sir?" she asked bluntly, color high on her cheeks in anticipation of his answer.

"Please, Miss Grantley—" he said, indicating with a nod in the direction of the door his desire for private conversation.

She stared at him a moment, then nodded and allowed him to lead her out of the parlor and into the hall. He led her to the same seat Lord Royce had taken the week before. In some portion of her mind, the humor of the seat’s continued use for private discourse percolated, and she smiled.

"I’m gratified to see you smile. It partially soothes my own trepidation," he said wryly.

Jane laughed. "You, sir, afraid?" The man had much to answer for; still, he was being astonishingly disarming.

"A gentleman—nay, any man is afraid to admit to softer emotions—to notions of love and tenderness."

"And are you?"

"You know it, Miss Grantley," he said seriously, his gray eyes searching her face.

Jane’s smile faltered. "In the past you have had an odd way of displaying your feelings," she reminded him.

"Damn it, I know it," he said angrily, turning away from her to stare blindly down the long hall. "Miss Grantley, the day I came upon you in Berkeley Square, I was on my way to your home to bid you good-bye. I thought it fortunate to have met you as you set out on your afternoon visits. Contrary to the words you whipped me soundly with that day, I had not been lying in wait for you. And while it is true that I requested you join me in my carriage, it was to allow us private conversation rather than standing about on some street corner like any common person."

"Oh, come now, Sir Helmsdon. I am not such a gudgeon as that. The carriage you guided me to was a rented traveling coach piled high with baggage. If I had deigned to step up into that carriage I doubt I would have stepped out again until my reputation was in tatters, leaving me no alternative but to marry you. Or you would have avoided that sullied middle part and led me directly to the anvil!"

Sir Helmsdon smiled. "A delightful thought. I would that it had occurred to me, be I later termed a knave or worse. Seriously, Miss Grantley," he drew her small hand into his and covered it with his other. "I do most sincerely love you and wish to make you my wife. There, I have said it without roundaboutation. "

Jane laughed. "Almost, Sir Helmsdon, do I believe you. There still are several plaguing questions. I know I should ask what was your reason for the loaded traveling coach, but we shall leave that aside for the time. Instead let me ask what brings you in my Aunt Serena’s company? And what of your pursuit of Millicent? According to my aunt, you have been a most assiduous suitor."

He shrugged. "She was a means to an ends. When I returned to London you’d already gone and no one could, or would, tell me where. I happened to remember your relationship to Mrs. Hedgeworth and presumed upon our friendship in order to ascertain your location. It was merely fortuitous Mrs. Hedgeworth and Lady Tipton were planning a trip down here. I quite shamelessly invited myself along."

Jane eyed him askance. "Knowing my dear relations, I would say there is a host you are not saying. Well, we shall leave that for now. I must tell you, sir, and quite firmly, that I do not wish to marry. You or anyone."

"But why, Miss Grantley? As modem as our times are, it is still difficult for an unmarried woman to make her way alone in this world. At least with marriage to me your security and safety would be assured."

"In exchange for my bank account," she said dryly. "No, do not protest. Let me say this in my defense. I, too, would not wish to marry where there is not love on my part."

"And you do not love me."

"No, sir, I most definitely do not."

"And I am thereby hoisted upon my own petard?"

Jane smiled. "So it would seem, sir. Now please, do not make me have to request you leave Penwick. It would be quite awkward. If I hear no more talk of love or marriage, I may begin to believe your story. You would be better to offer your hand to Millicent, you know."

Sir Helmsdon grimaced. "No, thank you. Besides, it appears she has the Devil’s Disciple in her sights."

"I wish her joy. He is not a man I would choose to wed!" Remembering his voice’s impact upon her sense, she shuddered delicately. "But come," she said, rising from his side. "It is time we rejoined the company or I shall stand in danger of ruining my reputation!"

He stood beside her, again offering his arm. "I shall make what promises you desire, if you in turn will grant me the honor of the next dance."

She laid her hand on his. "That is a bargain I should be happy to deal, sir," she said, walking with him back to the ballroom.

She felt a great weight lifted from her soul. Sir Helmsdon would not be the problem she dreaded. She still wasn’t sure whether she believed his story or not, but she trusted that he would make it be the truth if she allowed herself to believe that way. Sir Helmsdon had displayed a side of his personality that evening that she never saw before. Gone was the cynical man about town. In its dust was left a strangely sensitive and humorous gentleman. This was not in keeping with the persona society talked about. Was his reputation another example of society’s imaginative gossipmongers?

She frowned slightly as they entered the ballroom, unaware she was observed. She shook off the miasma of confusion that curled around her like morning fog. Her cloak was once again whole. She accompanied Sir Helmsdon to the dance floor to join a set forming for a spirited contredanse.

The Earl of Royce leaned against a pillar in the ballroom, his arms across his chest. He watched Sir Helmsdon lead Miss Grantley onto the dance floor. Royce raised a hand to lightly stroke his chin. He’d observed Miss Grantley leaving with Helmsdon some fifteen minutes earlier. Unfortunately his position in the dancing set precluded him following her as he’d wished to do. He did not trust Sir Helmsdon. Miss Grantley’s manner when she left the room had been prickly at best. Now, after being gone alone with that gentleman for an unconscionable time, she had returned in better—though unsettled— spirits. But she did not seem to hold the aversion to Helmsdon that he’d earlier observed. Curious. It also appeared she’d managed to rebuild her barriers. Perhaps under the current circumstances that was for the best.

He straightened, his arms falling to his side. What business of his was it who she smiled upon and who she did not? It was none. He was a mere observer, and that was the way he wished to keep it. Her antics and those of her guests would relieve his ennui. The country was not a place for a man of his parts. The sooner he could return to the Continent, the better for all concerned, he decided. Yet there remained a tiny irritating grain, a wisp of a thought without form, in his mind. It nestled deeply in his consciousness. If the country was so boring, why was he content?

"I knew, sister dear, I should find you up and about early," cooed Lady Serena, breezing into the small breakfast parlor early the next morning. Her ornate morning gown was made with layer upon layer of gossamer yellow muslin. It fluttered as she walked.

"Since I was a child," her sister returned placidly. "What has you up this early? I was sure we wouldn’t see you for hours yet."

Lady Serena nodded. "I wished to talk to you," she began. She looked around for a footman, then shrugged and pulled out a chair next to Lady Elsbeth. "Privately, sister to sister. It is difficult when one is entertaining and must see to the guests’ comforts. I should never have brought the Willoughbys. They are so—so frightfully rural, don’t you think?" She grabbed the coffee urn and filled her cup.

Lady Elsbeth laughed. "I’ve scarcely had the opportunity to speak with Lord and Lady Willoughby. But they strike me as a quiet couple, inclined to stay together."

"Oh, they do. Boringly so." She took a sip of coffee. "But enough about them. What I really want to talk to you about is the Marquis of Conisbrough."

"Oh?" Lady Elsbeth said carefully, absently moving a slice of meat about on her plate.

"I could not believe it when he walked through that door last evening! The audacity!" Lady Serena reached over, laying her hand on her sister’s arm, halting Lady Elsbeth’s idle shuffling of food on her plate. "But I also wanted to tell you how proud I am of you, sister dear. The way you handled him. Oh, not the faint, of course. Any woman of sensibility would have fainted from the shock if they’d been in your position. No, what I found exceptional was your behavior afterwards. You were properly cordial, yet you displayed just the right degree of constrained friendliness. Perfect, perfect," she enthused, letting go of her sister’s arm. She leaned back in her chair, her expression reminiscent. "Ah, seeing you last night, I wish I’d seen you fifteen years ago when you turned down his marriage offer. And also later—in Vauxhall Gardens—when you told him what you thought of his manners and morals. Imagine a man maintaining two mistresses in separate establishments and offering marriage to a woman of exceptional birth! What could you do but turn him down?"

Lady Elsbeth froze. Carefully she laced her fingers together, placing her hands in her lap. "How did you know what occurred at Vauxhall Gardens?" she asked neutrally, though her pulse beat faster.

"Why—why you told me, of course."

"Did I? I seem to have forgotten ..." She had not told anyone about the encounter at Vauxhall. It was too private and painful to be shared. She cocked her head to one side. Strange. She’d all but forgotten the source of the tales that had led her to renounce the Marquis of Conisbrough. She did not forget now.

"Tell me, do you think him changed much?" she asked, raising her hands back to her plate and utensils.

"Conisbrough? Gracious, no. If anything, the man is worse. No doubt he engineered the entire scene last evening just for your discomfiture. Wasn’t that the first time you’ve seen him since you said good-bye?" Lady Serena asked.

"Yes, yes it was. Strange, isn’t it, that circumstances should be such that we wouldn’t meet again for fifteen years? Tell me, whatever became of those two mistresses?"

"Elsbeth! I’m surprised at you. What a question to ask me! As if I would pay attention!"

"I only thought as it was you who told me about them, you would know what became of them."

"Well, I only listened and learned because I knew you considered yourself in love. I thought it my duty as your elder sister to look out for your interests. After you promised not to see him again, I dropped the matter, of course. But what is this? I feel I am undergoing an inquisition!"

"I’m sorry, Serena. I suppose seeing Lord Conisbrough again brought back too many memories and too many unanswered questions."

"I don’t know what unanswered questions there might be. It all seems straightforward to me."

"Yes, I suppose it would ..."

"What? Oh, no matter. What I also wish to discuss with you, sister dear, are your plans once dear Jane is safely wed." She leaned toward her sister, her expression serious and her lips pursed in a tight bow.

"My plans?" Lady Elsbeth parroted back to give herself time to think.

"Excuse me, Elsbeth," Jane said, appearing at the doorway. Her knowing smile revealed she’d heard Lady Serena’s last statement. She ventured to interrupt to give Lady Elsbeth time to gather her obviously scattered wits. "Cook said there would be no problem, and I’ve ordered the structure swept clean. "

"Oh, an excellent idea," Lady Elsbeth said. She smiled at Jane, exchanging amused appreciation with her niece for whatever notion Lady Serena was about to bring forth, along with a thank you for the timely interruption.

Jane nodded and went down the hall in search of Mrs. Phibbs.

Lady Serena pursed her lips and shook her head at Jane’s interruption.

"I’m sorry, Serena. I believe you were asking about my plans?"

"Yes. For you know, it won’t be too much longer before Jane is wed. It can’t be. She is far too wealthy and attractive— in a dark way—to remain a spinster all her life. And what will you do when that happy event transpires? Please do not tell me you shall remain here at Penwick Park to take care of those two boys whenever Mary and Delbert Litton take it into their heads to go jaunting overseas! I swear, Mary is very like her father. I’m inclined to believe there is gypsy blood somewhere in the Grantley family. Nonetheless, she and Litton are well matched. But stay here you cannot."

"Why?"

"Because—Well, because you need a life of your own without being at the beck and call of our relations."

"That would be pleasant, Serena. But you forget I am virtually a charity case. I have a modest income for my needs, but it is certainly insufficient for maintaining an establishment, and I do not think I should like renting rooms."

Lady Serena shook her head adamantly, her dark, slightly gray-streaked curls bobbing back and forth. "Good heavens, no indeed. And besides, it is beneath you. The family would never stand for it. No, I have a better proposition. Come live with me."

"Live with you?"

"Yes. As certain as I am that Jane will be wed soon, so shall my dearest Millicent remarry. Then I shall be all alone. It is not a prospect I greet with equanimity, I can assure you. So, come live with me. We shall deal together very well, sisters as we are. And what could be more amenable in society’s eyes?"

"You make an interesting proposition. I should certainly give it some thought," Lady Elsbeth said, carefully controlling her expression.

"Please do, dear. Only think of the fun we should have together! I know I do."

"To be sure," her sister said dryly.

"There now, I’ve said my peace. You will give it some thought, won’t you?"

"Yes, I shall think on it."

Lady Serena sunk back into her chair. She sighed deeply and looked relieved—no, more than relieved. She looked satisfied. A bit like the cat at the cream pot. Lady Elsbeth wondered why it was important to Serena that she agree to live with her? If Serena intended to take her in as a charitable gesture—as she and Jane had assumed—she would not have hesitated to make some remark to that effect. She would have basked in her magnanimity. And she would have informed Elsbeth of the few trivial tasks she would expect her to perform. But Serena had implied that they were to be equals, though Elsbeth felt that her words did not ring true. Elsbeth could not begin to fathom her sister’s plan.

Lady Serena straightened and reached up to pat her curls. "Good. Now that that’s settled, what are we to do today? Needlework? A little visiting, perhaps? What have you and dear Jane planned?"

Lady Elsbeth suppressed a smile. She told Serena she would think on her proposal and already her sister was taking it as a fait accompli. She decided not to correct her. "We thought a picnic would be a pleasant diversion."

"A picnic!"

"Yes. Cook is preparing a cold collation. Mrs. Phibbs is providing suitable blankets for us to sit on. And as you heard Jane say, the little Grecian temple has been cleaned. We shall all go up there, take turns with the telescope, and enjoy our repast."

A sharp frown pulled at the corners of Lady Serena’s lips. "I hope you do not intend that we should walk there!"

"Why not? We often do."

"Then that explains your shamefully brown complexions. No, no, no. That will never do. We will take a carriage up. At least the Folly is covered, that should shield us from the worst of the sun. Really, Elsbeth, I cannot countenance a walk of that length, and you shouldn’t either. It causes unladylike muscles to develop. Nothing can be more harmful to a lady’s success with a gentleman than to display an inordinate amount of muscle. A woman must stay soft and—and—"

"And weak," offered Elsbeth.

"Exactly."

"I do not see how a little walking can increase muscles to the extent you fear. Nonetheless, if you prefer to ride, we can certainly make arrangements in that manner."

Her sister nodded. "And I insist you ride with us. You will see how pleasant it is to relax in that way. "

"I shall reserve judgment. "

"I do not understand how you can be so cool," Lady Serena said petulantly.

"I know," Elsbeth said, "and that’s why I wonder if we should deal well together."

Her sister blinked, a look of panic crossing her smooth, slightly plump features. "Oh, but it is natural for people to not agree on everything. I should think we would still get along famously. Ah, I hear voices coming. I think we are finally to have some company."

Mr. Burry and Sir Helmsdon paused at the doorway. Mr. Burry laughed and prodded Sir Helmsdon in the ribs. "Hey, lad, here’s a turn. The ladies are up before times! We’ll be called sluggards, that’s certain."

"I will not care a jot, so long as they do not demand we join them at some godforsaken early hour," Sir Helmsdon drawled. He sauntered into the room and picked up a cup and the coffeepot. He smelled the heavy, rich aroma of the coffee and quirked a smile. "Devil take the Far East, I’ll take the West Indies bounty," he whimsically vowed before taking a sip.

Laughing, the others agreed.

"But where is Mrs. Hedgeworth and Miss Grantley?" he inquired.

"I’m right here," said Jane, coming around from behind him. "But I’m afraid Mrs. Hedgeworth is still abed. Do you think we shall be able to rise her before noon?" she asked her aunt.

"I believe so."

"Well, that’s certainly a better response than the groom brought me from Royceland."

"Royceland?"

"Yes, I invited Lord Royce and Lord Conisbrough. Our numbers would otherwise not be even. "

Sir Helmsdon raised an eyebrow and snorted softly. "I wouldn’t put too much faith in their attending. Neither gentleman has the best reputation for timeliness or manners," he drawled.

Jane shrugged. It appeared Sir Helmsdon’s conciliating manner of last evening was going to be a thing of the past. Just as well. She rather liked the gentleman she’d met yesterday, but it would not do to encourage him further. "I am not well enough acquainted with either gentleman to know, and I have recently discovered that it is not wise to place one’s faith in hearsay. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have several other things to attend to this morning." She nodded to all and left the room.

"Ice Witch," Mr. Burry muttered.

The others heard him, and though a few eyebrows rose at his unnatural want of manners, no one commented.

Jane purposefully kept herself busy for the next several hours. She checked on the old butler, spoke to the head gardener concerning the outdoor games and the alfresco meal she was planning for the next day, saw that the boys did their lessons, and conferred with Mrs. Phibbs on housekeeping arrangements. Her activities served their purpose. They kept her out of the realm of their guests. They also prevented her from any private speech with Lady Elsbeth. That last troubled her. Ever since Lady Elsbeth had fainted, Jane had been consumed by curiosity as to her relationship with the notorious marquis. She vowed, however, she would not ask anyone but Elsbeth for the tale.

It wasn’t until it was time to change for their planned entertainment that Jane even saw Lady Elsbeth again. They met in the old family wing. Jane thought Lady Elsbeth looked younger and more energetic than she’d seen her in many a day. She told her so.

Lady Elsbeth laughed. "Yes, I fear I was in danger of becoming a hoary old woman. One of those querulous, dusts of the ages, spinster women that people whisper about, shake their heads over, and pity. By the way, Lord Royce sent a note around. He and Lord Conisbrough will attend, but they will be bringing their horses and riding. He suggested this would be a good opportunity for Bertram to try the horse he left for him. He wrote something about speaking with you about it last evening?"

"Yes, he thinks Bertram is old enough to graduate from his little pony to a horse. He said he possesses the perfect animal, which he brought over and had installed in the stables here last night."

"How considerate of him!"

"Yes, but do you think Litton would approve?"

"Certainly. If he were around I daresay he’d realize the boy needs a horse and would see to it himself. Which, by the way, is something I mean to discuss with Mary and Litton when they return. Their sons are bright, intelligent, active boys. Besides needing a tutor, they need their parents’ attentions."

"I agree. But can you see Delbert Litton curtailing his jaunts for them?"

"No. What I intend to suggest is that they take the boys, with a tutor, along with them on these journeys."

"Hmm, I agree. And it would serve a multitude of purposes. Not only would the boys get an education they’re not otherwise likely to receive, but Litton and Mary will be educated as well as to the personality and needs of their children!"

"Precisely," Lady Elsbeth said, turning to go into her room.

Jane followed her. "Elsbeth," she said hesitantly. She looked down at her hands clasped before her, then back up at her aunt. "Elsbeth, could you, I mean, would you consider telling me how you know Lord Conisbrough? I wouldn’t inquire in this odious fashion, but there are tales.... I mean, Aunt Serena said...."