Who Needs Mr Willoughby? (31 page)

“Well, there’s little one can do, I suppose,” Lady Violet observed. “After suffering a setback in love one can only try and live through it. Still – Marianne’s young, and pretty. She’ll fall in love again soon, mark my words, and Willoughby will become nothing more than a distant and unwelcome memory.”

As the queue moved forward, Elinor nodded in polite distraction and glanced once again at her mother’s list.
Mustn’t forget the joint of beef
…

“Lady Violet. What a pleasure. I must say, I’m surprised to see you here.”

Lady Middleton, who’d dismissed Elinor within seconds of their introduction at Harriet’s party, joined them in the queue and greeted Lady Violet warmly. She flicked the Holland girl a glance and quickly looked away.

“I’m running a few errands today,” Lady Violet replied. “Mrs Fenwick is poorly and so I’ve decided to get out and enjoy this lovely weather.”

“You need a larger staff.”

“What are
you
doing here, if I might ask?” Lady Violet countered. “Don’t tell me your entire – and much larger – staff are all out of commission?”

Lady Middleton let out a brittle laugh. “I’d forgotten how droll you are, Violet. No, I’m here to pick up an order for my daughter, since you ask. It was on my way.”

Elinor’s turn at the counter arrived, and she lost track of the conversation as she gave over her instructions to the butcher.

“Six chops?” he asked.

She nodded. “Thick cut, please.”

“Aye. Be just a moment, miss.”

“– I suppose you heard what happened at Edward Ferrars’s party last Saturday evening,” Lady Middleton was saying in a low voice behind her.

Elinor stiffened.

“If you’re referring to the incident with Miss Holland,” Lady Violet said, her words also low but decidedly chilly, “let me remind you that her sister Elinor is standing ahead of us in the queue.”

There was a beat of silence. “Oh. So she is. Hello, Miss Holland. A pleasure.”

Elinor turned slightly and nodded. “Hello, Lady Middleton. A pleasure,” she echoed, and turned back to the counter as the butcher wrapped the lamb chops in white paper.

“No, Violet, I’m happy to say that I’m referring to something altogether different.” Lady Middleton coughed delicately. “This little
contretemps
occurred
after
the other incident.”

“Very well. Do go on,” Lady Violet retorted, “if I cannot stop you.”

“It was the most shocking and unexpected thing you could imagine. It seems that Edward Ferrars is engaged to Lucy Steele.”

“’Ere you go, miss.” The butcher handed Elinor the neatly wrapped package of lamb chops. “What else can I get for you today?”

She stared at him stupidly.

“Engaged?” Lady Violet echoed behind her in shocked tones. “I’d no idea.”

“Miss?” he said again.

Elinor blinked. “A – a joint of beef, please.”

“Right.” He nodded and turned away.

“Lucy’s sister confided as much to Harriet,” Lady Middleton went on. “Evidently the Steele sisters believed themselves to be far closer with the Ferrars family than was actually the case.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Lady Middleton rushed on, “that rather than being pleased at the news, Harriet was absolutely
livid
! She said her brother Edward would marry a nobody like Lucy over her dead body, and on pain of disownment.” She paused. “Then she practically dragged Lucy across the ballroom by her ear and thrust her out of the door.”

Hope, cautious and sweet, crept over Elinor’s face as the words sank in. Could it be –? Thanks to Harriet’s actions, was Edward now free to marry as he wished, and no longer obligated to keep his word to Lucy Steele?

The silence lengthened as Lady Violet digested the news. “My word. I can scarcely believe it.”

“Trust me,” Lady Middleton added with satisfaction, “it caused even more of a stir than that poor Holland girl’s scene with Mr Willoughby.”

Elinor’s hands went still on the clasp of her handbag.

“Oh, I’m
sorry
.” Lady Middleton reached out to touch her arm and smiled in sympathy. “Do forgive me for bringing it up, Miss Holland, I quite forgot you were there. My apologies.”

Elinor made no reply; the butcher handed over the joint of beef just then, wrapped and tied up in string. “Thank you,” she told him, and moved away from the counter to the till to pay for her packages.

“Of course, Edward did the right thing and refused to break the engagement.” Lady Middleton cast Elinor a sly glance before she continued speaking. “He told Harriet he wouldn’t break his promise to Miss Steele, and is quite prepared to live a life of poverty with her if necessary.” She sighed. “True love, would you not say, Miss Holland?”

But Elinor didn’t answer. She bid a hasty goodbye to the two women and, clutching her packages to her chest, fled from the shop.

Chapter 45

Marianne arrived at Barton Cottage early that evening and tossed her handbag on the hall table. The scent of something wonderful – simmering tomatoes, stewing beef, and the fragrance of thyme and basil – reached her nose, and she realised she was ravenous.

“Mum?” she called out as she made her way into the kitchen. “Can I help?”

Mrs Holland looked up from the Aga, a pot lid in hand, and regarded her daughter with a distracted smile. “Hello, darling. Yes, you can get the bowls down from the cupboard and set the table, if you would. How was work?”

“Fine.” Marianne answered automatically. Although the clinic had run smoothly, as it did every day, there was a constraint between her and Matthew, and had been since their dinner at the pub the night before.

She couldn’t believe that Willoughby had behaved so unforgivably, threating to press charges against Lacey for stealing his car unless she slept with him. It just didn’t make sense.

But he treated me just as badly
, she admitted to herself as she laid napkins and silverware out on the table.
He cut me dead in front of an entire ballroom full of people, and acted as if I meant nothing to him, as if we were strangers.

As if he never loved me…

“I meant to have lamb chops tonight,” Mrs Holland said now, and began ladling soup into the tureen. “But your sister hasn’t returned from the grocery store, so I made us soup instead.” She glanced at the clock over the sink. “I’m getting a bit worried. She should’ve been back by now.”

“When did she leave?” Marianne asked, pausing as she took the tureen from her mother.

“Oh, quite some time ago it was. Just after lunch.”

“Mum – that was hours ago!” She set the tureen down in the middle of the table with a thump. “It’s odd that she didn’t call. I hope the car didn’t break down again.”

“Perhaps we should call the police –?”

“Let me try ringing her again.” Marianne strode down the hallway to fetch her mobile phone from her handbag. “It’s getting dark. And it’s not like Elinor not to let us know she’ll be late –”

She broke off, mobile in hand, as the door latch turned and the door swung open. Elinor came inside, set down an insulated carry-bag, and shut the door.

“Where’ve you
been
?” Marianne cried, her worry turning in an instant to anger. “Mum and I were worried sick.”

“We were about to call the police,” Mrs Holland added. “Where were you all this time?”

“I ran into Edward in town.” Her words were measured and low.

“Edward? Edward Ferrars?” Marianne said.

“Do you know another Edward?” her sister retorted.

“No. But…what’s he doing here, in Hadleighshire? I thought he was in Litchfield, moving in to the vicarage.”

“He is. He was.” Elinor’s face was drawn. “He came here to see Lady Violet about something. He didn’t say what, and I didn’t ask.”

“How typical,” Marianne muttered.

Elinor narrowed her eyes at her sister but said nothing.

“Was Harriet with Edward?” Mrs Holland asked. “Where did you see him? What did he say?”

“If you’d both stop flinging questions at me,” Elinor snapped, “I might try to answer you.”

“I’m sorry. Come in the kitchen and have some soup,” their mother said. “Did you go to the butcher’s?”

“Yes. I bought along an insulated bag to keep everything cold.” She retrieved the bag and carried it into the kitchen and thrust the wrapped packages into the fridge. “I saw Lady Violet while I was there, too.” Her glance slanted to Marianne. “And Lady Middleton.”

“Horrible, snobby cow,” Marianne said, and grimaced as she took her place at the table. “No wonder she and Harriet are such good friends. Birds of a feather.”

“She had news to share.” Elinor sat down and spread the napkin over her lap, and met her sister’s eyes as she did. “She said that Lucy Steele is engaged to Edward. Evidently,” she went on, ignoring Marianne’s sharp glance, “Lucy’s sister Anne confided as much to Harriet at Edward’s party.”

“Oh, no.” Mrs Holland reached out and put her hand over her daughter’s. “I’m so sorry, Elinor. I thought…we
all
thought…” her words trailed away. “Well. And what did Harriet say to the news? Was she pleased?”

“On the contrary – she was furious.” Elinor spooned up a taste of soup. “Not that I like to repeat gossip, but Lady Middleton said Harriet literally dragged Lucy by her ear across the ballroom and threw her out.”

“Oh, lord – how I wish I’d seen
that
,” Marianne exclaimed, and laughed.

“Harriet also said that if Edward insisted on marrying Miss Steele, she’d disown him and give his inheritance over to Robert.”

Marianne let out a gasp and dropped her spoon into the bowl with a clink. “But – that’s good news! That means Edward can’t possibly marry Lucy now…and it leaves the way clear for him to propose to
you
instead!”

“No.” Elinor spoke with remarkable calm. “Edward confronted his sister, and told her he wouldn’t break his promise to Lucy. He intends to stand by his word and marry her.”

“What? He can’t be serious! He’ll be left penniless,” Mrs Holland exclaimed.

“Not penniless, mum. He has the living at Litchfield now.”

“That’s practically the same thing,” Marianne retorted. “A country vicar barely makes enough of a salary to support himself, much less a wife. And certainly not in the style Lucy Steele no doubt expects.” She turned an accusing gaze on her sister. “How can you be so calm about all of this? Why aren’t you furious, and going after Lucy to win Edward back?”

“Because he was never mine in the first place.” Elinor laid her napkin aside with deliberate motions. “We had lunch together this afternoon, and we had a long talk, and although it’s true the news that he intends to marry Lucy hurts, I admire him for standing by his word to her.”

“You
admire
him?” Marianne echoed, and let out an incredulous snort. “Balls! My God, all of this endless, selfless nobility makes me want to hurl. Besides,” she added, “your admiration for Edward won’t keep you warm at night.”

“Nor will falling in love with a man like Kit Willoughby, evidently,” her sister shot back.

“Girls,” Mrs Holland exclaimed, distress apparent on her face. “Please, stop it at once.”

Hurt suffused Marianne’s face, followed by anger. “Well, at least Willoughby isn’t engaged to marry someone else. At least we spent time together, every minute we could, unlike your precious Edward, who couldn’t be bothered even to say goodbye to you before we left Belgravia.”

Elinor surged to her feet. “He isn’t
my
Edward,” she cried. “Don’t you see? He was never mine, any more than Willoughby was ever yours.”

“And whose fault is that?” Marianne retorted. “You wouldn’t tell Edward how you felt about him, you stood by and let Lucy have him and never said a word. If you’d stop being so bloody
selfless
all the time, and show a bit of emotion, he might have a clue how you feel, and things would have ended so much better for you!”

“Oh yes, I see how well baring your heart and soul to Willoughby and the world turned out for
you
.” Elinor’s words trembled with fury. “You made a fool of yourself over Willoughby, Marianne. And not just to Willoughby, but to an entire ballroom full of people who’ll no doubt dine out on the story of your public humiliation for months to come.”

Tears swam and blurred her vision as Marianne shoved her chair back. “At least I can say, for a little while at least, I knew real love. Can you say the same?”

She threw her napkin down and stormed out.

***

“Endwhistle Veterinary Clinic,” Marianne said the next morning. “How may I help you?”

“You can help me by putting me through to Dr Brandon,” Mr Jenkins said. “I need to speak wi’ him straight away. It’s important.”

Lynn’s warning on her first day at the clinic came back to her now.

“Don’t ever put Mr Jenkins through to Dr Brandon; he calls at least once a day and he talks nonstop. His wife died last year and he’s all alone out on the farm. I think the sound of Dr Brandon’s voice reassures him, somehow.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr Jenkins,” Marianne said now, “but Dr Brandon’s not available. He’s in the surgery at the moment.”

“Well of course he’s in the surgery,” the elderly man snapped. “He’s always in the surgery.”

“No, I mean to say he’s performing an operation at the moment,” she lied. “He can’t come to the phone but I’m happy to take a message.”

“I don’t want to leave a message. I need to speak wi’ Dr Brandon directly.”

“Can you tell me what’s wrong? Perhaps I can help. And if I can’t,” Marianne added, eyeing the stack of insurance forms that waited to be processed, “I’ll be sure he calls you back the minute he’s out of the surgery.”

“It’s Gypsy, my whippet. She’s not herself, been laying all mornin’ in her basket and can’t get up, and I’m afeard something’s wrong. She’s carrying pups.”

Marianne made note of his concerns. “I’ll tell Dr Brandon the moment he’s free,” she assured him.

“See that you do,” he snapped, and rang off.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered. “There’s no pleasing some people.”

She drew the stack of forms towards her with a sigh and began to enter the claims into her computer, her fingers tapping nimbly at the keyboard, and her telephone conversation with Mr Jenkins was soon forgotten.