Black Sheep's Daughter (23 page)

“He sought to kill two birds with one stone, ma’am. Since I doubt I shall ever marry, perhaps it is just as well that my other purpose is successfully accomplished.”

The duchess’s buoyant spirits rebounded from her horror. “Well, if you must engage in trade, I daresay it is as well to be successful. I am glad to hear it. But what is this about doubting you shall marry?  Do not talk such nonsense. You are already much admired, girl, and the Season is yet some months hence.”

Teresa felt a momentary urge to fling herself into her aunt’s arms and tell her that the gentleman she loved not only was betrothed to another but held her, Teresa, in aversion. She doubted the duchess would sympathise, when there were any number of more eligible young men available.

“You are right, aunt,” she said, hoping she sounded convinced, but realising that the duchess was not yet aware of the latest débâcle. “I am not yet at my last prayers. I am feeling a little mopish this evening, but it will pass. Pray excuse me, now, for my uncle wishes to see me.”

“Stafford knows about this shocking business?”

“I believe not, ma’am. It is about some other matter, I make no doubt.”

“Then do not tell him, if you please. I have spoken sharply to Amelia and to Boggs already, and if you will hold your tongue there is not reason it should become the latest on-dit. However, perhaps it will be as well to leave early for Sussex, just in case word spreads. It is not worth more than a nine days’ wonder, especially if you are not here to remind people by your presence. By the time we return in March, I do not doubt it will be quite forgot. I shall tell Stafford I wish to go to Five Oaks at once, though I shall be excessively sorry to miss Lady Jersey’s rout.”

“If you think it wise, ma’am.” Teresa curtsied and left, wondering whether she ought to have warned the duchess that any on-dit about her business activities was sure to be lost in the hullabaloo over her mad gallop across Hyde Park. So many secrets!  She was beginning to grow confused about who knew what.

She started downstairs just as Marco dashed out of his room, looking none the worse for wear. She ought to scold him about taking Gayo out, but it was more important first to be sure he was not injured.

“Marco, are you really all right?”

“Of course, it was nothing. Teresa, you’ll never guess what has happened. Harrison has escaped from the prison hulk!”

“Harrison?”

“The slaver. Don’t tell me you have forgotten his existence. Honestly, if that isn’t like a female, only interested in balls and gowns. Do you think he will come looking for revenge?  Ought we to warn Uncle Stafford, in case he has not read about it?  And Andrew?”

“Do as you please,” said his sister indifferently.

 Marco sighed. "Well, if you think it so unimportant I shall not bother my uncle. All the same, it would be famous if he came after us. Keep your pistols about you!"

She went on down to the study, prepared for her uncle to rake her over the coals, with no intention of trying to defend herself. It was her cousin's fault that it had happened but, as Andrew had implied, no proper young lady would have owned a parrot to tempt him to mischief.

Lord John was in the study with the duke. He looked still more dashing than usual with a court plaster on his forehead. He came towards her with both hands held out, a humble apology on his lips. "Cousin, I beg your forgiveness. I had no conceivable right to take Gayo without your knowledge. It never crossed my mind that he would cause such chaos!  Marco did not know I had him, I promise you."

She could not resist the rueful twinkle in his eyes, that belied his penitent face and tone. "It was very wrong of you," she said with what severity she could muster. "It is no thanks to you that neither Marco nor Gayo came to harm."

"It is the harm to your reputation that concerns me," said the duke heavily. "You may go, John. Teresa, my dear, I do not mean to ring a peal over you. Once the damage was done, you did what you thought best, though it is unfortunate that that involved galloping through Hyde Park across a gentleman's saddle-bow. However, Danville assures me that you had no choice if you were to catch your parrot before he wreaked any further havoc, not to mention your very proper concern for your brother’s possible injuries. At least Graylin had the wit to remove you rapidly from the scene."

 "I am so sorry, uncle! I never meant to disgrace your name."

 "It is not so bad as that. It is bound to be the talk of the moment, however. I think it best that we go down to Five Oaks tomorrow, while talk dies down. I had intended to go next week in any case, and we have no important engagements."

"It is not necessary for everyone to put themselves out for me, sir. I can very well go alone."

"That will never do. For one thing, I have no desire to allow the gabblemongers to believe that you are being punished. For another, your aunt knows nothing of what occurred. If we leave early tomorrow, she need not find out, and by the time we return to town in February the business will be long forgotten."

"Aunt Stafford mentioned to me just now that she desires to go to Five Oaks without delay."

"Excellent. I was going to tell her that you have been burning the candle at both ends and are beginning to look sadly pulled."  His Grace grinned at his indignant niece. "However, if she wishes to go anyway, we shall let her believe we are merely falling in with her own notion. Now, we generally get up quite a party for Christmas. I want you to be comfortable, my dear, so I shall invite a number of your particular friends to join us in a week or so. Danville has suggested Miss Parr and Miss Kaye, Mr Wishart, Graylin, and one or two others."

"Oh uncle, you are a great deal too good to me!  I do try to deserve your kindness, indeed I do."

He patted her cheek. "Off with you then, child. And keep that bird of yours safely tied until we can get it down to the country."

Teresa went slowly up to the drawing room. Others might come, ignoring her disgrace for the prestige of a stay in a ducal mansion. She could not bring herself to tell her kind uncle that Sir Andrew Graylin was not at all likely to accept his invitation.

Chapter 16

Five Oaks was scarce half a day's carriage ride south of London. At first Teresa felt her spirits rise as they left the smoky, bustling city behind them.

Her cheerfulness did not last. The duchess, annoyed at having to miss Lady Jersey's rout, claimed a megrim and lay back against the brown velvet squabs with an expression of suffering, eyes closed. The countryside, so pretty on her arrival in England, was now painted grey and dun, and the leafless trees looked depressingly dead to one used to the ever-lush tropical forest.

Teresa remembered that, though her aunt was unaware of it, she was in disgrace. Andrew blamed her for the turn-up in the park, and if she ever saw him again he would doubtless be already married. At least, now she was a subject of scandal, he and Muriel would probably not invite her to the wedding. She did not think she could bear to watch them plight their troth.

The duke, sitting opposite, leaned forward and patted her hand. "Pray do not look so miserable, child," he whispered, glancing at his wife. "I have assured you that I do not hold you to blame."

She smiled at him tremulously. "I believe you were right, uncle. I have been drawing the bustle with a vengeance, and am now reaping the effects."  Determined not to let a single tear escape, she closed her eyes tight and leaned back in the corner.

* * * *

If Teresa had been impressed by Stafford House, her first sight of Five Oaks overwhelmed her. A Palladian mansion, set on a gentle slope overlooking the meandering River Arun, it could have held her jungle home in one wing and scarcely noticed its presence. Small, fawn Jersey cows wandered about the park, while larger, dusky-red Sussex cattle browsed the meadows by the river. The flowerbeds in the formal gardens were bare, but there was an evergreen shrubbery close to the house which promised shelter for winter walks. Better still, Teresa anticipated long rides across the rolling hills.

Inside, the mansion was less elegant, less formal than the London house. Not that anything was shabby, rather it exuded an air of homely comfort. This was the duke's favourite seat, within easy reach of London, where generations of ducal children had grown up and congenial house-parties often filled the rooms with lively activity. Teresa stood in the huge entrance hall and tried to imagine her father as a small boy sliding down the well-polished bannisters.

Her bedchamber had a window seat with a view, framed by a vast cedar, down to the rippling brown waters of the Arun, fringed with bare willows. She saw deer mingling with the cows in the park, and a pair of dogs lolloped across the lawn and disappeared into the shrubbery. The setting sun escaped from the layer of clouds, pale but willing, and turned the grey hills to green.

Teresa decided to take Gayo outside before it grew dark. Here, surely, he could not land her in the briars.

Gayo flew wide, joyful circles shouting "Hello, hello," with never a curse escaping his beak. Calmed by his pleasure and her peaceful surroundings, Teresa blessed her uncle for bringing her to this haven.

The next few days she had little leisure for brooding. She rode with Marco and their cousins, helped the duchess plan entertainments for the coming party, explored the house, and met several neighbours. Every day she took Gayo out, and they soon had a regular audience of fascinated gardeners, dairy maids, and any other servants who could sneak away from their duties for a few minutes.

* * * *

One afternoon, she was descending the main stair with the parrot on her shoulder when she saw a gentleman in a greatcoat standing with his back to her in the hall. He was studying a full length portrait of the First Duke in all his be-wigged glory.

 Teresa was going to retreat, not wanting to risk Gayo embarrassing a guest, but there was something familiar about the set of his blond head. She paused, and he turned.

 "Andrew!"  She ran down the stairs, her face alight with joy; then she remembered the terms on which they had parted.

 "Teresa!"  He took a step towards her, both hands held out, then stopped.

 Gayo bridged the gap:  "Hello, dinner!"

"I did not think you would come."

"I had to, if only to apologise. If you cannot forgive me, I shall not stay."

"Forgive you?"

"It was all my fault—well, Lord John was not precisely blameless!  But had I not swept you onto my horse and galloped off with you like Young Lochinvar in Scott's poem, no one need have connected you with the incident."

"I was afraid Marco might be badly hurt, and I had to retrieve Gayo before he caused further disaster. Given the choice of picking up my skirts and running through the mud, or playing the Bride of Young Lochinvar..."  Teresa flushed. "Well, you know what I mean."  How she would have liked to play bride to this "braw gallant”!

"You know the poem?"

Somehow they were friends again.

"Papa once bought a whole chest of books from an English captain, without any idea what was in it. One was
Marmion
, and that was one of my favourite bits. Are you just now arrived?"

"Yes, the butler has gone to announce me to the duke. I am very glad to have seen you first, for I had no notion how to tell him that my staying depended upon you."

She laughed. "But you will stay. I am taking Gayo outside. When you have seen my uncle, if you are not too tired, will you come out?"

"Happily."

He joined her some ten minutes later, and together they strolled about, chatting comfortably, while Gayo enjoyed his freedom.

"It is growing chilly," said Teresa at last, pulling her cloak closer about her. She whistled, and Gayo flew to her. As they turned towards the house, she told Andrew, "The rest of the guests are arriving tomorrow. My aunt has a hundred entertainments planned to keep us all busy."

"Then I am pleased to have arrived early, to enjoy a quiet coze with you."  He smiled at her.

"How is it that you did not travel with Muriel?" Teresa asked, her heart aching. She had no desire to talk of his betrothed, but the words escaped her. She fought to keep her voice even.

"I came via my home, to see my family."  He seemed no happier at the choice of subject.

"I am surprised she did not go with you, since she will so soon be your wife."

"Muriel and my sister-in-law are
...
I cannot say at daggers drawn for Muriel is by far too gentle for such a phrase. They do not deal together."

"You mean, I collect, that your sister-in-law bullies her. I remember that you told me she is an intimidating female. Something like your future mama-in-law, I daresay!  Poor Muriel is such a meek creature, you do well to keep them apart, though you cannot separate her from her mother."

"I cannot, but the duchess can. The invitation did not include Lady Parr."

They exchanged grins and went into the house in perfect agreement for once.

That night, in spite of her active day, Teresa lay awake for some time after Annie snuffed out her candle. If only Andrew were not engaged to Muriel. If only Muriel were not her friend. If only Don Eduardo had never invited him to the Hacienda del Inglés. She realised now that the damage to her heart had been done before ever they left Costa Rica.

She had believed Papa that she was attracted to Andrew only because he was a sophisticated stranger. Now she had met half the eligible gentlemen in England, many of them more elegant, handsomer, richer and of higher rank; now she knew for certain that she loved him.

 And somehow, she must keep both him and Muriel from guessing it.

* * * *

The next afternoon the rest of the house party arrived. As well as Teresa's particular friends, there were people of the duke and duchess's generation, and their elder daughter.

Lady Pamela Jordan, a little younger than her brother Tom, was accompanied by her husband, Lord Jordan, and four children under the age of ten. She largely ignored the former in favour of the latter. In fact she spent so much time in the nursery that Teresa, after a friendly greeting that made her hope for a closer relationship, seldom saw her cousin.