Gayle Buck (16 page)

The Hedgeworths laughed at that and agreed. They exchanged a few more words with Michele before she told them good-bye. When she returned to the house, she was told that Lady Basinberry had gone out. Since Mr. Davenport had not returned from his club and Lydia chose to stay closeted in her bedroom, Michele had the dining room to herself for luncheon.

She heard the sounds of Lady Basinberry’s return outside in the hall, and her ladyship’s query to the manservant, who answered, “Yes, my lady. The mademoiselle is at luncheon.” Michele sighed and set down her teacup. It appeared that Lady Basinberry also wished to speak to her. Perhaps it was just as well to have everything brought out aboveboard as soon as possible. The door swung open and Michele looked around.

Lady Basinberry paused on the threshold, her eyes meeting Michele’s cool gaze. She stepped forward and the door fell shut. “I have requested that fresh tea be brought in,” she said, pulling off her gloves. She sat down at the table and her eyes rose to meet Michele’s once more. “I am very bad at apologizing, my dear. However, I am fully aware that I did you an injustice this morning. I hope that we may put such unpleasantness between us to rest.”

Michele was silent a moment. “I think that would be the best course, my lady. Otherwise the atmosphere in this house would be truly intolerable.”

Lady Basinberry grimaced, but she did not immediately reply, since the butler had entered with fresh tea. She waited until they had been served and the butler had withdrawn from the room before she said, “You have hit it precisely, Michele. The atmosphere in this house ... It is but a poor excuse for my own behavior, however. I have always prided myself upon my personal control. But I anticipate that it will be severely tried until my foolish brother abandons his idiotic stance. I have just come from making a call on Mrs. Hedge-worth. She asked me of Lydia, and it was immediately obvious that pair of hers told her something of what has occurred. Winifred is too knowing to swallow whole that story of Lydia ill in her bed. I was forced to reveal Edwin’s folly. She assured me of her complete discretion, naturally. I think that I can trust her to keep to her word.”

“Even if Mrs. Hedgeworth does so, I cannot believe that there will not be talk. My cousin cannot simply disappear from society without comment. Eventually there will be those who will guess much of the truth, and the rest will spur the rumors to idiotic proportions,” Michele said.

“Yes. I wonder what new ailment Edwin plans to concoct for Lydia when her influenza must have run its natural course,” Lady Basinberry said sarcastically. “I do not intend to let the matter rest, I assure you. Edwin shall rue the day that he ever hit upon this preposterous scheme of his to punish Lydia.”

“I cannot understand what it is that my uncle hopes to accomplish by it. Even if Lydia were to regret her decision, she now stands no chance of wedding Lord Randol,” Michele said.

Lady Basinberry raised her brows. “Indeed, my dear, that is true. Unless Edwin is playing a deeper game than we know. But that is impossible. He is not so devious. And certainly Lord Randol is too proud to reconsider.”

“Then let us hope that you are able to persuade my uncle to a more compassionate stance. I should not like to think what Lydia might do if she is forced to continue as she is,” Michele said. “My cousin is a spirited young woman. I know that in the same circumstances I would not sit tamely in my bedroom for weeks, assured that my future held only more of the same!”

Lady Basinberry did not reply, but there was a thoughtful look in her eyes.

Chapter Fifteen

For a fortnight after Lydia announced her disinterest in Lord Randol’s suit, Mr. Davenport stood firm against Lady Basinberry’s unflagging arguments. On several occasions Michele heard their raised voices, and once she inadvertently entered the drawing room in time to catch Lady Basinberry pithily informing Mr. Davenport of his shortcomings. “I tell you to your head, Edwin, that you are all kinds of fool to sacrifice any chance of Lydia’s making a decent match to your own fit of disappointed pique,” she said roundly.

Michele paused in the doorway, dismayed. Before she could retreat, her uncle looked up and saw her. His mouth was drawn in a thin stubborn line that eased only slightly as he tried to summon up a smile. “Come in, Michele. There is no need for you to run off,” he said with a shadow of his former geniality.

“I do not wish to intrude,” Michele said, loath to join her feuding relations. She had endeavored to stay as much out of their way as possible for several days—not an easy goal to accomplish, when on most evenings they had dined together. Her only relief from their tense company had been the social events that she and Lady Basinberry had continued to attend.

“Nothing of the sort. We have done with this conversation,” said Mr. Davenport, coming forward to take her hand in a gentlemanly gesture.

“You may have said all that you wish to, but I have not done with this subject, Edwin,” Lady Basinberry said.

“You shall never persuade me, Beatrice,” Mr. Davenport said shortly. He turned his shoulder on his sister. “Michele, allow me to hand you in to dinner.”

Michele threw a glance at Lady Basinberry’s angry expression, uncomfortably aware that her uncle was using her as a buffer against her ladyship’s continued importunities. However, she really had no choice but to accept her uncle’s escort into the dining room. Mr. Davenport seated her at the mahogany table, completely ignoring his sister, who had followed them. He did not do the proper thing and seat his sister, but instead took his own chair.

Lady Basinberry was left standing, and her mouth worked, though nothing issued forth. An appalled footman leapt forward to hold Lady Basinberry’s chair. She, obviously furious at her brother’s broad lack of courtesy, made a point of thanking the manservant.

Dinner was served, and only the clatter of cutlery broke the antagonistic silence observed by Mr. Davenport and Lady Basinberry. Michele tried to start up a conversation, but each attempt failed dismally and she thought with irritation that Lydia showed great good sense in taking her meals in her room. It was an incredibly uncomfortable hour before Michele was able to excuse herself from the table and flee. That evening she was engaged to the Hedgeworths to see a theater play, and she was never more glad in her life to escape the town house.

Mrs. Hedgeworth inquired in her gentle way after Lydia’s health, and Michele replied evasively that her cousin was still keeping to her rooms. She despised herself for the lie, especially when she caught the exchange of glances between Clarence and Elizabeth. Michele sighed and tried hard to concentrate on the play.

At Mr. Davenport’s insistence, the story that had been put about that Miss Davenport was indisposed with the influenza and was unable to receive callers continued to be enforced. Lydia was to all intents and purposes a prisoner to her father’s still-smoldering anger. Lady Basinberry performed her social duties with a certain brittleness. Whenever she had occasion to speak to Mr. Davenport, she treated him with the scorn that she had always before reserved for willful fools.

The household was generally affected by the unhappy atmosphere. Lydia was said to be indulging in frequent bouts of weeping. Michele tried to offer what comfort she could, but more often than not Lydia sent her away without seeing her. Under the circumstances, and without Lydia to accompany her, Michele was not particularly interested in attending the social activities. But Lady Basinberry pointed out that for both young ladies to drop out of society would arouse a furor of comment. Reluctantly Michele heeded her ladyship’s argument and tried to appear as usual, but it was difficult to smile and laugh off her cousin’s absence whenever a mutual acquaintance chanced to ask about Lydia’s convalescence.

Those who called at the town house to visit with Lydia were turned away from the door unless they were quick enough to ask for Mademoiselle du Bois or Lady Basinberry. Clarence and Elizabeth Hedgeworth called several times, always to ask if the situation had changed any for the better, and Michele was unable to give them that assurance.

On Mr. Davenport’s orders, Captain Hughes was denied entrance to the house altogether. But Captain Hughes was not easily discouraged, and hardly a day passed that he did not try to gain admittance. It chanced that as Michele was returning from a drive in her phaeton, Captain Hughes was coming down the steps of the town house. He wore a disconsolate and bewildered expression that roused Michele’s sympathies. He did not appear to notice her, and started to walk away down the sidewalk. When she hailed him, he turned and took a quick step over to the phaeton. “Mademoiselle du Bois!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up.

“Pray step up, Captain. I wish to speak with you,” Michele said.

Captain Hughes swung himself up into the phaeton and seated himself beside her. “This is well-met, mademoiselle. I had hoped to call on you today.”

Michele guided her horses back into the carriage traffic before she replied. “We shall take a turn about the block. It would not do to be seen with you by the servants, you see,” she said with a quick smile.

Captain Hughes did not return her smile. Her words tore away any semblance of polite reserve that he might have maintained. He half-turned on the seat so that he could see her face. “Mademoiselle, I must crave your indulgence. What has happened to Lydia ... to Miss Davenport? I am not allowed into the house or even to leave a note for her.”

Michele sighed. “I am most sorry, Captain Hughes. My uncle unfairly blames you for a stand that Lydia has taken. He apparently hopes to persuade Lydia to forget you by these uncivil tactics.”

Captain Hughes’s taut face reflected his upset. “What can you mean, mademoiselle? I have not spoken to Lydia in days, and then our conversation was nothing untoward. Believe me, I have never incited her to anything that her father could possibly dislike.”

Michele slanted a glance at him from her extraordinary midnight-blue eyes. “You have caused Lydia to fall in love with you, Captain. That is your sin.”

He was momentarily bereft of speech. He shook his head helplessly. “But it has always been so between us. From the instant that our eyes met, I knew that Lydia was meant for me. And she assures me that it was the same for her. We have never disguised our feelings for one another. Mr. Davenport has known for some time of my hopes in Lydia’s direction, even as I have known and accepted his understandable wish for a more exalted offer for her, and placed my confidence in our love for one another, which must win out in the end. What I do not understand is why suddenly he should kick up such a dust.”

“He is angry because Lydia informed Lord Randol in front of several witnesses that she would not accept his lordship’s suit because her heart was given to another,” Michele said quietly.

“Oh, my word, the foolish girl,” Captain Hughes said softly.

Michele laughed, though not lightheartedly. “Quite! My uncle was so enraged that he has denied Lydia to everyone, and he has put it about that she has the influenza. Needless to say, it is not a very happy house at the moment.” She sighed, hardly noticing when she had to correct her team’s paces in order to let by a flashing barouche. “I had hoped that my uncle would have relented by now, but he remains obstinate despite Lady Basinberry’s unceasing campaign on Lydia’s behalf.”

“But what will happen to Lydia?” Captain Hughes asked. “He cannot mean to keep her shut up forever!” He was appalled by the thought of his beloved in such straits. It was all he could do not to give in to a strong impulse to return at once to the town house and storm the doors.

“Of course he cannot. I still believe that he must relent, and it but takes patience until he does so,” Michele said. She glanced at her companion, whose face was cut by a deep frown. “I did wish you to be aware of the facts, Captain.”

Captain Hughes gave a fleeting smile. “I thank you for your kindness, mademoiselle. That explains everything. I wish that there was something I could do. I fail to see what course I might follow, short of shaking some sense into Mr. Davenport.”

Michele laughed in genuine amusement. “If ever anyone needed a good shaking, it is my uncle,” she agreed. She thought a moment. “If you like, I will carry a message from you to Lydia.”

Captain Hughes’s eyes lighted up. “By Jove! Will you, mademoiselle? You are kindness itself. I shall scribble one on the instant that I procure a pen.” He pulled out one of his calling cards while Michele directed her team over to the curb. Captain Hughes jumped to the sidewalk and disappeared into a book vendor’s stall. In a very few moments he reemerged and climbed back up into the phaeton. He handed the calling card, now tightly folded in half, to Michele. “You may read it if you wish,” he said diffidently.

Michele flashed him a smile. She put the calling card safely in her reticule. “I trust you, Captain. I know that you are not the sort to urge Lydia to any action that could place her in jeopardy.”

He was moved by her trust in him. He lifted her gloved hand to his lips. “Thank you, mademoiselle.”

“Pray call me Michele, Captain. We are co-conspirators, after all,” she said with a laugh. Her eyes twinkled at him.

Captain Hughes smiled. “Very well, and I am Bernard, if you please. I shall leave you here. I am not so very far from a friend’s lodgings, and I believe that I shall drop in on him.”

Michele nodded her understanding. Captain Hughes climbed down from the phaeton to the sidewalk. Michele gathered the reins and raised her whip in a brief salute to him before she directed her team back into the traffic and headed toward the Davenport town house. She thought about the note she carried in her reticule. She was a little uncomfortable to be in the position of go-between, but she had felt so badly for Captain Hughes, who was obviously frustrated and disturbed by the turn of events. The role of conspirator was not one that fitted her well, but she promised herself it would be for but the one time. Her uncle would surely relent soon and Lydia could then communicate directly with Captain Hughes.