Angel's Touch (18 page)

‘
Your cousin told me you are thinking of going to Brighton,’
Verity ventured, hardly aware that she held her breath as she
waited for his reply.

‘
Perhaps,’ he said, his tone offhand. ‘It depends. At present
Brighton holds little attraction for me.’

Her
heart leapt at his words and it was with difficulty that she
refrained from asking on
what
his decision depended.

‘
I
dare say,’ she said carefully, ‘it would do you good to go among
people of your own kind once more.’

‘
I
don’t know that,’ he responded lightly. ‘I was never very much a
social animal, you know, even before—’

He broke off and
Verity, conscious of awkwardness in this reminder of the dreadful
past, rushed into the breach.

‘
No,
I suppose merely because one is—is born to it, there is no
guarantee that one will enjoy the social advantages of one’s
rank.’

‘
Precisely. In fact, although I would be the last to deny that
it is very comfortable to enjoy these privileges, there are certain
disadvantages.’

‘
Gracious, I should think so,’ Verity agreed at once. ‘I can
think of nothing worse than to be obliged to keep up vast estates
and employ hordes of servants. Had I my choice, I should like a
quiet cottage, with perhaps a maid and a cat, where I might shut
myself up for hours with my pen, and indulge in—’

It was her turn to
break off, putting a hand to her mouth as if to force the words
back in, and glancing up at her companion in consternation. He was
looking puzzled.

‘
You intrigue me greatly, Miss Lambourn. Am
I to understand that you
write?’

‘
Oh,
pray do not ask me,’ she begged. ‘I should not have said so much. I
did not mean to do so.’

The
marquis had halted again and was staring at her. ‘But Miss
Lambourn, what is there to be ashamed of in that? Good God, you
must be very clever.’

‘
Oh,
I am not,’ protested Verity, blushing. ‘And as for being ashamed,
it is no such thing. Only I am obliged to prevaricate a little, you
see, because my parents would be quite shocked if they knew of my
plans.’

‘
Nonsense, they must be proud and pleased.’

‘
Oh,
pray hush, sir. You do not know. My father is a clergyman, and,
although he is the best and kindest of men, I cannot think he would
regard with anything but horror the knowledge that one of his
daughters plans to live by the writing of Gothic tales of
adventure.’

‘
Live by it?’ echoed his lordship. ‘I should think not
indeed.’

Verity’s eyes flashed. ‘And pray why should I not? Because I
am a female?’

‘
Well, partly, but—’

‘
Let me tell you, sir, that if I had the
good fortune to succeed in having a novel published, I would
certainly consider myself entitled to live on the proceeds, in
preference to depending on
marriage
,
which I take it you imply to be my lot in
life.’

‘
Miss Lambourn, I meant nothing of the sort. I assure you,
this wrath is misplaced,’ said poor Salmesbury. ‘I had no idea of
incurring your displeasure.’

‘
I
beg your pardon,’ Verity said stiffly, turning away from him. She
breathed deeply once or twice to recover her temper, and turned
back, speaking with an apologetic air. ‘You see, sir, the case is
that my mother has a positive bee in her bonnet on the subject of
matrimony. I suppose it is because there are so many of us and she
has always believed it her duty to see us all off. That is why I
was sent here, of course. Although why she should suppose anything
could come of it, when both Prudence and Patience failed so
dismally to procure husbands when they came here, I am at a loss to
imagine.’

‘
Are
you all named for the virtues?’ asked Salmesbury, seizing on a
change of subject that might divert her.

‘
Oh,
yes, it is the greatest trial to all of us,’ Verity said instantly.
‘You see, Mama is called Grace, so I suppose that is why they
thought of it. They began with Faith, Hope and Charity and
continued from there.’

‘
Good God,’ exclaimed the marquis, amused. ‘How in the world
did they find such names for—was it six sisters you said you
had?’

‘
Oh,
they managed far more than that. We lost so many of my sisters, you
know, and they could never bring themselves to use a name of one of
the dear ones who had died. So by the time I was born—and I was the
seventh—they were hard put to it to find anything
acceptable.’

‘
I
think Verity a charming name,’ commented his lordship with a
smile.

‘
Oh, I do not mind it. It is my younger
sisters who suffered most. Poor Mercy and little Peace are in
despair. And when it came to
Temperance
and
Obedience,
who were the last, it was
the outside of enough.’

The
marquis could not help laughing. ‘I should say so.’

‘
Yes, but
most
fortunately
both of them died, poor little
dears.’

‘
Very understandable,’ murmured Salmesbury, the gleam in his
black eyes pronounced.

‘
Ah, but that was before either knew
anything of the matter, so I don’t feel they can have done so
by
design,’
Verity said seriously.

Salmesbury’s lips twitched, but he managed to preserve his
countenance. ‘And have you no brothers at all?’

‘
Only the one,’ Verity answered. ‘He is the baby, and
naturally everyone’s favourite. He is spoilt to death and will
doubtless grow up to be quite unbearable.’

‘
Do
tell me. I am agog to know. Does his name accord with family
tradition?’

‘
No, it does not,’ Verity said with
unexpected heat. ‘Would you believe it? After saddling us girls
with all those terrible names, what did Mama and Papa do but come
up with something quite ordinary. After my sisters and I had raided
the Bible, too, and discovered several quite unexceptionable
virtuous
names. But all
they could think of was “Henry”. The most commonplace name in the
world.’

There was a silence. Then Salmesbury said, a little
diffidently, ‘Do you—er—dislike the name “Henry”?’

‘
Not precisely. For my father is Harry,
which is why—’ She stopped and stared at him, struck with a sudden
thought. ‘Oh, no. Don’t say
you
are called Henry?’

The
marquis nodded, ruefully grinning. ‘I am desolated to be obliged to
confess it, but yes.’ He bowed. ‘Henry Wystan Haverigg, ma’am. Very
much at your service.’

‘
Oh,
no,’
cried Verity, and went off into a peal of
laughter, in which Henry Haverigg readily joined
her.

Then they both became
aware that someone was calling to them.

‘
Sir! Sir! Verity!’ Braxted came running up. ‘Don’t you mean
to come and see the Rocks? What are you laughing at?’

‘
We have been
discussing
Christian names,’ Verity
explained. She looked at the marquis.
‘And
this, no doubt, is Wystan Henry
Haverigg?’

‘
That’s right,’ Braxted shouted, surprised. ‘How did you
know?’

‘
Pure deduction, Wystan,’ Salmesbury said. ‘Miss Lambourn is
an extremely clever lady, you must know.’

The
comfortable privacy was shattered for the day. There was no
rational conversation to be had with every other sentence
punctuated by Braxted’s chatter or Peggy’s terse comments,
delivered at the level of a shriek. It warmed Verity’s heart,
however, to see the children so joyous, their pleasure unalloyed by
any suppression of high spirits. For the marquis forbore to scold,
rather smiling at their exuberance, and the rest of his entourage
took their tone from him.

Miss
Lambourn had been interested to note the presence of a second
nurse, and found an opportunity to make the woman’s acquaintance.
She chose a moment when the gentlemen were engaged with Braxted,
who was pointing out the scars made by previous visitors cutting
into the stone of the great rocks.

‘
How
do you do?’ she said in friendly fashion, smiling at the woman.
‘Kittle I have met, but you are new, I believe?’

The
nurse dropped a curtsy. ‘Yes, ma’am, I’m the junior. Bradshaw is
the name.’

‘
And
how do you like the position, Bradshaw?’

‘
Early days, ma’am,’ said Bradshaw frankly.

She was a rather gaunt
woman, a year or so younger than her senior nurse, but there was
intelligence and kindness in her gaze, and Verity suspected that a
warm heart beat under the gruff exterior.

‘
I
envy you the charge of little Peggy,’ Verity said. ‘She is a
delightful child.’

Bradshaw’s face softened. ‘Yes, poor little mite. But she’s a
handful, ma’am—except when her brother is by. Adores the lad, she
does.’

Verity nodded. ‘And he her.’

‘
Small wonder, ma’am,’ commented the nurse, a trifle
grimly.

The
eyes of the two women met and a look of understanding passed
between them. Verity made no reference to it, however. She could
not be seen to gossip with Henry Haverigg’s servants. She smiled
warmly instead.

‘
I
am glad you have come, Bradshaw. Take good care of the little
one.’

There was time for no
more, for Kittle came up with Peggy, her eyes going from one to the
other in quick suspicion. It was evident, Verity thought, that
there was some rivalry here.

She
had also managed to acquaint herself with the cleric, Mr Eastleigh,
and discovered him to be so sensible a man, and so warm in his
praise of young Lord Braxted’s potential, that she found herself
thinking of both children with an easier mind. As if it was any of
her business, she chided herself. But the conviction that it
was
her
business—that
Henry
was her business—could not be shaken off.

She thought Mr
Eastleigh cast puzzled glances at his employer now and again as he
exchanged laughing banter with his cousin, his children and
herself, and guessed that the picture Henry was presenting of
carefree domesticity was something new, and her heart swelled.

It
seemed no time at all before the picnic, served by liveried
attendants, had been disposed of, and the Lady Margaret’s drooping
eyelids signified the end of an enjoyable day. As the disposition
of persons in the carriages was being discussed, it became apparent
that Salmesbury had the intention of driving Miss Lambourn back to
Tunbridge Wells. All at once, the difficulties of her position came
home to Verity and she contrived to draw the marquis a little
aside.

‘
Pray, sir,’ she begged in an undervoice, ‘do not you trouble
to escort me. I can very well go with the groom.’

‘
You
will do nothing of the kind,’ argued Salmesbury in a somewhat
peremptory tone. ‘Good God, how could you think I would treat you
so shabbily?’

‘
No,
no, you mistake me,’ Verity told him urgently. ‘I don’t think that.
It is only—oh, can you not see how such a course must give rise to
gossip?’

The
black eyes flashed in sudden anger. ‘Are you afraid to be seen with
me, ma’am?’

‘
Well, of course I am,’ Verity responded frankly. ‘Gracious
heaven, what do you suppose people will say of me if it is reported
that I left town with one gentleman and returned with quite
another?’

‘
Oh!’ said the Marquis blankly.

‘
Exactly.’

‘
Hell and the devil,’ he swore, and then, recollecting
himself, stiffly begged her pardon.

Verity brushed this aside with an impatient gesture. ‘You
must also realise that it would be quite ineligible for me to be
seen with you, in any event, now that you are known in Tunbridge
Wells.’

‘
Oh,
indeed?’ he returned ominously. ‘May I ask why?’

‘
Well, what a stupid question. Because I am only a clergyman’s
daughter, and you are a marquis, of course.’

‘
What in heaven’s name has that to say to
anything?’

‘
Everything. You must know what a hotbed of gossip is the
Wells. It may be very well for you to ignore such whisperings, but
I, let me tell you, am obliged to be more circumspect.’

Tight-lipped, he stared at her, the black eyes snapping. When
he spoke, that intimidating ice was back in his voice. ‘Does this
mean that I am barred even from calling upon you?’

Verity met his challenging gaze bravely, but her own eyes
were bleak. ‘I think perhaps it does, yes,’ she said, in a sad
little voice that spoke volumes.

The
anger vanished from his eyes and he caught her hand. ‘Forgive me! I
thought—’ He lowered his voice to a murmur. ‘I thought you were
attempting to warn me off.’