Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (18 page)

“But you cannot marry anyone just now, Charlotte,” the countess said weakly. “Not with your grandfather and parents barely cold in the ground. You must not think of such a thing, my dear, not for at least a year. I simply could not bear it.”

Alfred said instantly, “Just what I told her myself, ma’am. It mustn’t be thought of, I said. Full mourning for a whole year before I could see my way clear to consenting to such a thing, that’s what I told the minx. But would she listen?”

When Lady St. Merryn bristled at his tone, Charley interposed calmly, “Fortunately I do not need his consent, Grandmama. I am of age, and can make decisions without asking permission from Cousin Alfred or anyone else. At least, at present I can. Lord only knows what a fix I shall find myself in if I have to depend on him for every crumb I put in my mouth. That will likely be the case, too, since neither Grandpapa nor Papa left me much of anything. I refuse to dwindle into a poor relation, however. Even marriage to Rockland must be better than that.”

Miss Davies bleated a small cry of protest.

At the same time, Rockland muttered, “Thank you very much, my pet.”

Hearing them, Charley flushed and apologized for offending them. Then she said, “But you want me, Rockland. You have told me so over and over again.
And
you promised to take me on any terms at all. I, on the other hand, have never pretended to be in love with you. I thought you were as pleased as Punch by this arrangement.”

“Which just goes to show,” Sir Antony murmured to no one in particular, “how easily pleased some men can be. I confess, the vision of Miss Charlotte Tarrant enacting the role of a strident Judy is not what I should define as wedded bliss. But doubtless you know what you are doing, Rockland.”

Charley flushed, but before she could think of a suitable retort, Sir Antony smiled across the table at Lady St. Merryn and said blandly, “Do not let her impulsive nature distress you, ma’am. Though I have known your granddaughter but a few hours, I have seen enough to know that she would not willingly cause you pain. If she does marry Rockland, I am certain she will see to it that the ceremony is conducted with complete discretion and solemnity.”

Lady St. Merryn blinked uncertainly at him but was unable to resist his smile.

Nodding approval, Miss Davies said, “No doubt you are quite right, Sir Antony. Gentlemen may be depended upon, in my experience, always to get right to the heart of the matter. It don’t seem right—really, it don’t—that our dear Charlotte should, by the most unfortunate set of circumstances, have been placed in a position that she dislikes and was not raised to anticipate. Of course,” she added with a heartfelt sigh, “no one really anticipates such an eventuality, and so few are as fortunate as I was.” She smiled at Lady St. Merryn. “I am persuaded that no one could have been kinder to one thrust into the bosom of her family than my dearest cousin was to me. But I talk too much,” she added abruptly, shrinking back into her chair. “Pray, forgive me.”

Charley wanted on one hand to reassure Miss Davies that she had not meant to offend her, and on the other to shriek at them all that she would never—no matter what other fate befell her—become another just like her. She was sure that if the silence lasted, she would say something she would regret. Thus, she was relieved rather than annoyed when Sir Antony said gently, “How well you put the matter, Miss Davies.” He glanced at Rockland. “And how brave you are, my lord.”

Rockland’s laugh sounded strained, and his tone was doubtful as he said, “I’ll hold my own. I am not a man to live under the cat’s paw, never fear.” Then, as if he expected someone to dispute his declaration, he turned to Gabriel and said hastily, “By Jove, tell us more about this ceremony of yours. Sounds downright fascinating.”

Gabriel smiled, making Charley yearn to kick Rockland under the table. He sat beside her, so she could have done it, and it was not the knowledge that he was likely to cry out if she did that stopped her. Sir Antony’s presence kept her twitching foot firmly on the floor, and she knew it. Even as the thought flitted through her mind, she realized that Gabriel, in obeying Rockland’s request, had mentioned her grandfather again.

“The earl worked with us a great deal on the ceremony,” he said. “It’s to be the grandest event to take place in Cornwall in living memory, don’t you know. Though the cathedral is in Truro, every town in the county is to have its role.”

“That’s true,” Charley said. “Women in many towns and villages have been stitching prayer cushions and wall hangings.”

“Aye,” Gabriel said, “and other towns have contributed memorial pews, and plaques, and carved screens. Our task, in Lostwithiel is to provide the Seraphim Coffer to store the vessels when they are not in use. I shall have the honor of placing them in their nests myself, and the duty of taking them under guard to Truro for the ceremony.”

Rockland said, “I thought someone said you were a Methodist, Gabriel.”

The big man shook his head. “Most likely what you heard, my lord, is that I’ve worked with the Methodies to help the miners and to end criminal enterprises. I don’t believe in their religious practices, but I do believe in doing whatever I must to get an important job done.” He smiled diffidently.

Sir Antony said, “I believe you mentioned some sort of problem, Gabriel.”

“I did,” the big man agreed. “It’s this, sir. At the critical time, just before the Duke of Wellington presents the vessels as a gift from the nation, the Earl of St. Merryn was to unlock and open the coffer.” He looked from Antony to Alfred. “I came here today intending to ask you, Mr. Tarrant, to perform that role for us. However, since it appears that we do not know yet whether you or Sir Antony here is the rightful heir, I confess that I’m at a standstill now as to what we should do.”

Edythe said, “My dear sir, we’ve nearly a month left before that ceremony. Surely, my husband’s claim will be proved long before then.”

“I wish we could be certain of that, ma’am,” Gabriel said. “The plain and simple fact is that even in cases with little question about who will prevail, these matters take time.”

“But this man is an impostor,” Edythe snapped. “He should be clapped into irons, not rewarded for his impudence.”

“That will do, Edythe,” Alfred said, flushing.

“Yes, my dear,” she said placidly. “Pray, forgive my outspoken manner, Mr. Gabriel. As you might imagine, this is a difficult time for us.”

“Certainly, ma’am,” Gabriel said. With an oblique glance at Sir Antony, he added, “I trust, however, that you all can see my dilemma.”

Sir Antony said mildly, “I should think the solution must be obvious, Gabriel, if you will forgive my saying so.”

“Obvious, sir? But how so?”

“There is one person who can take the late earl’s place in the ceremony without drawing the least controversy or condemnation.”

Gabriel frowned. “I own, sir, I cannot think who that might be.”

“Why, Miss Charlotte Tarrant, of course.”

Charley, and everyone else at the table, stared at him in astonishment.

Gabriel said, “But, Sir Antony, Miss Charlotte is female. The consecration is to take place in the cathedral, a holy place, sir! It is a sacred ritual.”

“Such ceremonies generally are,” Sir Antony said dryly. “But surely, the mere opening of the casket—excuse me, the coffer—containing these historic vessels, is in no way a sacred act. It cannot take place at the altar, for the Duke is also a lay person, and he will be enacting a primary role in that part of the ritual.”

“True,” Gabriel agreed, frowning. “The bishop will carry the vessels to the altar after the presentation. Still, I’ve never heard of a female taking part in such a rite.”

“Under the circumstances, however,” Sir Antony said reasonably, “I should think that Miss Tarrant must be far and away the most appropriate person to represent her late grandfather. I would, of course, have suggested Lady St. Merryn—”

“Oh, no,” Lady St. Merryn said, reaching for her vinaigrette, which Miss Davies promptly produced. “I simply cannot be expected to do such a thing. So very public, you know, and so soon after …” She inhaled deeply.

“Quite so, ma’am,” Sir Antony agreed. “Since your health and state of deep mourning will not permit you to act, some other member of the family must do so.”

“Very unusual,” Gabriel said, “but if Miss Charlotte is willing …”

Everyone turned toward Charley. She glanced at Lady St. Merryn, uncertain of how much such participation by her granddaughter would distress her. The countess appeared to be entirely preoccupied with her vinaigrette. It was Edythe who objected, strenuously, pointing out that Miss Charlotte was likewise in mourning.

About to declare that St. Merryn also would have been in that state, had he survived the news of his son’s death, Charley fell silent in astonishment when a firm hand pressed warningly against her right knee. Exerting herself not to demand what Sir Antony thought he was about to take such an extraordinary liberty, or even to look at him, she sat rigid and silent.

Sir Antony said in his haughtiest tone, “I cannot imagine how Miss Charlotte’s opening a painted box in a church is in any way a betrayal of her state of mourning. Surely, my dear madam,” he added, gazing at Edythe in much the same way she tended to look at Letty, “you would not have us suppose that such a ceremony will occasion anything but the greatest decorum.”

“Certainly not,” she said. She tried to match his air of hauteur but, thanks to her deepening color, failed miserably to do so.

Rockland, who had remained unnaturally silent throughout the discussion, said cheerfully now, “Can’t see the harm, myself. By and large, every member of this family is in mourning at present. But if anyone fears that such a thing might somehow offend someone, we can just ask Bishop Halsey what he thinks about it.”

“A very wise notion, sir,” Elizabeth said approvingly. “Don’t you agree, Alfred dearest, that we ought perhaps to ask the bishop if Charlotte should do it?”

“Very well,” Alfred said impatiently. “Can’t think why we’re still talking about it, myself. I’ll have another slice off that joint, Jago. Step lively, man. You ought to see that I’ve finished the bit on my plate.”

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully, and when Edythe announced that the ladies would leave the gentlemen to enjoy their port, Charley accompanied her grandmother and Miss Davies upstairs to the countess’s sitting room.

As Miss Davies helped Lady St. Merryn arrange herself on a claw-footed sofa that had been carried there unbeknownst to Edythe (along with much of the rest of the countess’s favorite furniture), Charley drew up an armchair for herself. She did not perform the same service for Miss Davies, knowing it would only fluster that excellent lady to be waited upon. But as soon as the countess had settled with her vinaigrette close to hand, the fire screen set to protect her from the heat, and the cushions behind her plumped to Miss Davies’s exacting standard, Charley said apologetically, “I hope you are not vexed with me, Grandmama. I truly meant to make Sir Antony known to you before dinner, and as for my betrothal, I … Well, I don’t know what to say.”

“You were very thoughtless,” Lady St. Merryn said. “I believe I am still entitled to know what’s happening in this house, you know, even if I am now expected to be no more than a cipher here. I will speak to Medrose, too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Charley said, seeing nothing to be gained by assuring her that it was unnecessary to speak to Medrose. The butler had clearly taken Edythe Tarrant’s measure and would not allow his mistress to be snubbed again if he could prevent it. Moreover, she rather enjoyed seeing a spark of animation in her grandmother’s eyes.

Half an hour later, leaving Lady St. Merryn to the tender care of Miss Davies, she went to Letty’s bedchamber, where she found the child curled up in a wing chair by the fire, reading a book. Jeremiah was asleep in her lap but awoke when Charley shut the door. Stretching much like a human, the monkey looked at her over the chair arm. Letty put down her book.

“Don’t get up,” Charley said. “You look very cozy, the pair of you. I just came in to bid you good-night.”

“It’s still early,” Letty pointed out, glancing at the little ormolu clock on the nearby dressing table.

“I know. I came up with Grandmama, but if I go downstairs again, I am sure to say something offensive to Cousin Edythe or Cousin Elizabeth. Grandmama is content without me. Cousin Ethelinda is reading to her.”

Letty’s eyes twinkled. “How did Sir Antony manage at table?”

“As if he were to the manner born,” Charley said, twinkling back at her. “I found myself wondering if he might really be Sir Antony Foxearth-Tarrant.”

“He isn’t, is he?”

“No, I don’t think so. He is running a rig, as he calls it. I had better explain how it is, so that you will take extra good care not to unmask him.” It occurred to her that the gentleman they were discussing might well take exception to her decision to confide in Letty, but she knew she was safe in doing so. The little girl had lived her life in the diplomatic world. If she knew anything, she knew not to speak indiscreetly.

“Why Foxearth, do you suppose?” Letty asked when Charley finished.

“I haven’t a notion, but Alfred did not question it, so Sir Antony—as we must now think of him—must have got it right. I’ll ask one of them about it tomorrow.”

The depression that had enveloped her for days seemed to have disappeared, and when she awoke the following morning, she felt quite cheerful. The sun was shining, and the moor beckoned. Finishing a cup of chocolate and a bun in her room, she sent word to Letty to join her, went straight to the stables, and ordered the first groom she met to saddle Shadow Dancer. Only then did she realize that she had forgotten one small detail.

The groom, a new one, said respectfully, “Beg pardon, Miss Charlotte. I’ve got no orders yet from the master to saddle any horse today.”

“Where is Teddy?” she demanded. “Or Jeb?”

“I’m sure I can’t say, miss, but our orders from the master—”

“Alfred Tarrant is not yet master of Tuscombe Park, much as he likes to pretend he is,” Charley snapped. “Until he is, you would do well to obey orders given you by anyone in the family. Now, either send for Teddy or saddle Shadow Dancer yourself. He is the black roan gelding with the white blaze.”