Who Needs Mr Willoughby? (30 page)

“Who told you this pack of lies – Lacey?” she scoffed. “It was plain to all of us at Lady Violet’s dinner that your sister has a massive crush on Kit. No offence, but I wouldn’t believe a word she says.”

He shrugged. “Nor would I, to be honest. But it wasn’t Lacey who told me.” He paused. “It came from Eugenia Smyth. Kit’s aunt.”

Marianne blinked. She couldn’t form a response. She couldn’t do more than stare at Matthew in disbelief. “When?” she managed finally.

“A couple of weeks ago. Just before Kit showed up at your door, and –”

“– and told me he had to leave for London,” she finished. Her throat constricted. It all made a horrible kind of sense.

“It started when Kit’s car was stolen.”

She looked at Matthew across the table and her eyes widened. “You mean –?”

He nodded grimly. “Lacey and Jack stole Willoughby’s car. He’d left the keys in, so they took it for a joyride and, as luck would have it, my sister left her bracelet on the floor of the Jag.”

“I remember…Kit said the police found beer bottles and trash in the back of his car when they recovered it, along with –” she paused. “Along with a bracelet.” She looked sharply at Matthew. “But how do you know all of this? Did Lacey
tell
you she stole Willoughby’s car?”

“Eventually, yes. Kit came to Delaford to confront her, but I was staying there to keep an eye on my sister until my father got back. Thank God he wasn’t there,” Matthew muttered, more to himself than to Marianne. “I asked Willoughby not to press charges, and promised to pay for any damages. He said he’d think about it, and I thought – I hoped – that was the end of it.”

“But –?”

“But Lacey went back to see Kit that night, to thank him for letting her off the hook.” His face darkened, and he knocked back the rest of his ale and set the glass down with a thump. “He made it clear that he was undecided about pressing charges, and he’d only drop the matter if she agreed to sleep with him.”

Marianne drew in a sharp breath. “No. I can’t believe Willoughby would ever do such a thing. He never would.”

“Why can’t you believe it?” he ground out. “Because your prince turned out to be not so charming after all?”

She stiffened.

“Perhaps you’d like to come out to Delaford with me now, and talk to Lacey yourself?” he invited. “She can tell you exactly how Kit Willoughby took advantage of a scared kid and coerced her into having sex with him.”

“Why – why haven’t you filed charges against him, if all of this is true?” Marianne demanded, shaken. “Why hasn’t be been arrested?”

“Because I don’t want my sister’s name dragged through the muck and mud. And by the time Eugenia Smyth told me the whole, ugly story, Willoughby was gone, scarpered to London.” Matthew flung some notes on the table and pushed back his chair.

She stood up on unsteady legs.

“Count yourself lucky that he walked away from you, Miss Holland,” he added. “He’s not worthy of you. He’s not worthy of anyone. And if he ever dares to show his face in Hadleighshire again,” he added grimly, “I can promise you this – I’ll kill him.”

Chapter 44

After a tense, silent ride back to the clinic, Matthew dropped Marianne off and waited until he watched her get in the Fiat and drive off.

“I can’t believe Willoughby would ever do such a thing. He never would.”

What was it, he thought now as he savagely shifted gears in the truck, made a woman fall for a man like Kit Willoughby? Were they so taken in by a little well-intentioned flattery and surface charm that they gave over their hearts without a second thought?

It sure as hell seemed that way.

He drove to Delaford and halted the truck before the front steps of his father’s sprawling estate house. The windows were dark at this hour, except for a light in the drawing room. He slammed out of the truck and made his way inside and across the entrance hall.

“Matthew.” His father looked up from the book on his lap in surprise. “I didn’t think I’d see you tonight. No emergency calls? No misdirected calves or midnight surgeries?”

He shook his head. “Not a one.” He took a seat on the sofa across from the colonel. “How was London?”

“Ah. Heard about the party Harriet threw for her brother Edward, did you?”

“Not really. I only know you were invited.” Matthew eyed his father. “And that you’ve invited the Holland ladies to dinner next Saturday evening. Marianne told me.”

“I have indeed. I want you there, as well.”

“I’ll come if I’m not out on a call.” He paused. “Is Lacey up to company?”

“She says she’ll think about it. When the summer’s over, I’m sending her to your aunt Judith. She can finish her schooling in Lancashire, where my sister can keep a closer eye on her than I can.”

“Does she know yet?”

“She does. She ranted and shouted and cried, of course, and threatened to run away. Again.” Colonel Brandon stared into the fire that crackled and sputtered in the fireplace. “Perhaps Judith will know how to handle the situation. God knows, I haven’t a clue…”

“I hate Willoughby for what he’s done.” Matthew thrust himself to his feet and went to stand by the fire. “And I’m furious with Lacey for being so bloody stupid. Why the hell did she go to see him? What was she thinking?”

“I think she meant to persuade him not to press charges.” He met his son’s eyes. “God knows I hate to say it, but I’m still not convinced she isn’t lying, about all of it.”

Matthew didn’t say it, but the same thought had crossed his own mind, and more than once. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he agreed after a moment. “Why did Willoughby leave, then?”

“Wouldn’t you, if someone accused you of having sexual relations with a minor and you couldn’t prove otherwise? Not that I’m saying he didn’t do it –
if
he did, I’ll be pleased to see him rot in prison for the rest of his life. In any case, it’s his word against Lacey’s. God help him.”

“A jury would call her an unreliable witness.”

“If your mother was here I doubt it would’ve ever happened.”

“But she’s not.” Matthew ploughed a hand through his hair and resumed his seat. “At any rate, you can’t blame yourself. Even if mum was here, Lacey would’ve done exactly what she did. She’s as much to blame in all of this as Willoughby, I’ve no doubt.”

“Speaking of which,” Colonel Brandon said, and shifted in his chair. “He was at Harriet’s party.”

“Was he?” Matthew’s expression darkened. “And did you confront him? Demand he explain himself?”

“No, nothing so dramatic. I never had the opportunity. There was…another, more immediate drama.” He levelled his gaze on his son. “One which, unfortunately, involved Marianne Holland.”

“What do you mean? What happened? I saw her just now, and she said nothing about seeing Willoughby there.”

“She wouldn’t.” The colonel sighed. “I’m sure the experience was too painful – and far too humiliating – for her to mention it in casual conversation.”

He relayed how Willoughby had cut Marianne dead in front of a ballroom full of guests. “To see her face, so full of hope, and happiness, crumple, and fill with despair…it was painful to watch. She thought he had feelings for her. He made it very clear, to her and to everyone in the room, that he did not.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Matthew asked abruptly. “Surely such treatment from Kit Willoughby is no surprise. And why would you think’s it any of
my
business? I hardly know the girl.”

“She works for you, doesn’t she? I thought you should know; that’s all. She fainted, and we helped her out to the car, her mother and sister and I, and got her out of there as quickly as we could.”

“And you expect me to do what, exactly?” he demanded.
Why am I so bloody angry?
he wondered.
Why do I even care?

“I don’t expect you to do anything,” his father replied. “I just want you to understand, Matthew. If Miss Holland’s…not herself, have a bit of compassion.” He paused. “Treat her kindly – as you’d wish your sister to be treated.”

“I’m furious with Lacey for being so bloody daft!” Matthew surged to his feet. “To go and see a man she barely knew – and
Willoughby
, of all people! – to try and, what? Persuade him not to press charges? If she’d just stayed put at home and let things take their course, I’ve no doubt he would’ve agreed to let the matter go. What was she thinking?”

“She wasn’t. She’s young, and foolish. And because of her poor choices, she’s had to grow up very quickly.”

“No thanks to Kit Willoughby.” Matthew all but spat the name out. “What is it about that bastard that holds every female in his vicinity in thrall? Why can’t they see him for what he is – a selfish tosser who only cares for himself?”

“I suppose a woman can forgive a lot from a man with a handsome face.”

Matthew saw the defeat in his father’s face, and his anger deserted him. “I know mam hurt you, running off like she did –”

“She hurt you and your sister more.” He didn’t look up from his contemplation of the flames. “Don’t shut Lacey out, Matthew. I know she’s let you down; she’s not the same girl she used to be. But she’s young, and confused…and she needs you.”

“What she needs is to start taking responsibility for her actions. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. I’ve work to be doing, and animals to see to.” He turned to go.

“Do you care more for those damned animals than you do for your own sister? She hasn’t got anyone else, Matthew. She’s alone in all of this, and I can’t help her. I don’t know how.”

“Lacey doesn’t want my help. She won’t listen to anything I say. She should never have tried to bargain with Kit Willoughby. She’s got no one but herself to blame for all of it.”

“Matthew!” the colonel commanded.

But his son was already gone.

***

The following morning Mrs Holland handed a list of items she needed from the grocer’s to her eldest daughter, along with the chequebook.

“Here’s the shopping list, Elinor. Be sure and remember to get some lamb chops. Six should do.”

“Right.” Elinor tucked the list in her handbag and turned to go.

“And tell the butcher to cut them nice and thick,” her mother added.

“I will.”

“Oh – and I’ll have a joint of beef if he’s got it, too.”

With a sigh and a dull nod, Elinor opened the front door.

“Darling, wait.” Mrs Holland came to stand beside her and eyed her anxiously. “Are you all right? Only – you look so pale and wan, and you’ve been so quiet of late.” She reached out to take her daughter’s hand. “It’s Edward, isn’t it?”

Elinor slanted a quick, guarded glance at her mother.
Did she know about his secret engagement to Lucy? No. How could she possibly know?

“Edward?” she hedged. “No, of course not. Why should he have anything to do with…with anything?”

“I know you were hoping to hear from him, or see him again after the party.”

Elinior said nothing. It was true she’d held onto a secret hope that Edward might visit them at Lady Violet’s townhouse in Belgravia before they left London, to say goodbye to her and her sister and mother; but he never showed. Nor had he written, or texted, or phoned her.

There’d been nothing but silence from Edward.

“He’s busy, you know,” her mother pointed out reasonably, “preparing for his new position as a member of the clergy…he has the vicarage to organise, and without a wife to help him settle in, I imagine it’s a difficult task. Overwhelming. I’m sure you’ll hear from him once things quiet down.”

“No doubt,” Elinor murmured, although she didn’t agree. Thanks to Lucy Steele, she found it highly unlikely that she’d ever see Edward Ferrars again. And perhaps it was better that way.

How much worse it would be, she thought as she walked up the drive to Barton Park to borrow the Peugeot, to see Edward married, and sharing his life with Lucy Steele.

No, she decided as she climbed into the car – which Mr Fenwick had left for her, with the keys in the ignition, at the top of the drive – she couldn’t bear to see Edward wed to Lucy. She’d far rather never see him again.

***

Elinor pushed the door to the butcher’s shop open, setting the bell to jangling over her head. There was a queue for the till, and several women were eyeing the cuts of beef and chicken and shanks of lamb displayed behind the glass counter.

With a sigh of resignation she took her place at the end of the queue and withdrew her mother’s grocery list from her handbag. Six lamb chops, thick cut, and a joint of beef…

The bell jangled again as another customer entered the shop.

“Miss Holland,” Lady Violet exclaimed, and joined Elinor in the queue. “What a nice surprise to see you here.”

“Hello, Lady Violet.” Elinor smiled. “I didn’t expect to see you here, either. I should think Mrs Fenwick or Jack could manage the shopping for you.”

The older woman nodded. “Usually you’d be right. But Mrs Fenwick is feeling poorly today, and so her husband’s taken her to the doctor, and Jack –” She grimaced. “Well, that young devil may be handsome, but he’s lazy and unmotivated despite it.”

“Or perhaps because of it?”

“Yes, exactly.” Lady Violet nodded, and sighed. “I’ve never known a handsome man yet who wasn’t a cad, a bounder, or a lazy scoundrel, safe in the knowledge that he can always get by on his looks alone.”

“Like Mr Willoughby,” Elinor murmured.

“Precisely. That man is a prime example of the worthlessness of a handsome face,” Lady Violet agreed with a sniff. “How is your sister Marianne holding up?” she added, her words low and warmed by concern.

“Recovering, I think, little by little. We don’t see much of her; she works at the clinic all day and spends most of her time at home locked away in her room.”

The truth was, she and Marianne continued to maintain a separate but wary peace, each avoiding the other wherever possible and conversing when necessary in polite monosyllables. No longer did they share their news over a cup of tea or coffee in the mornings; no longer did they flop across each another’s beds to confide their secrets.

And she missed those moments. She missed her sister.

Mr Willoughby had done more than break Marianne’s heart. His actions had strained their relationship and driven a rift between them. Elinor only hoped it wasn’t permanent.