Intrigue (Daughters of Mannerling 2) (4 page)

‘Did you feel you did not deserve the appointment?’

‘In a world where all appointments are based on influence rather than merit, it did not trouble me overmuch.’

‘Is it not a boring life?’

‘A cloistered life among the bachelors. I am unusual in that I have not taken holy orders.’

‘What if you should marry?’

‘Ah, then I should retire happily to my home in the country.’

‘You have an estate?’

‘I have a tidy mansion and five hundred acres in Gloucestershire.’

‘You cannot see much of it.’

‘On the contrary, I am at home quite a lot in term time and during the long recess. I have an excellent factor, so the estate is well run in my absence.’

‘Is your house like Mannerling?’

‘No, it is not very grand, quite modest, built only in the last century. No ghosts, no long history.’

‘No ghosts?’

Robert gave his charming, husky laugh. ‘I do not believe in ghosts, Miss Beverley. Do you?’

‘I do not know. Perhaps the last owner of Mannerling, Mr Judd, who hanged himself, walks at night.’

‘I doubt it. I do not see Mrs Devers putting up with a stray ghost in her home.’

‘You are a relative, I gather?’

‘Yes, Mr Devers is my uncle, my mother’s brother. So Harry is my cousin.’

Jessica tried hard not to look as interested as she felt. ‘What is Mr Harry like?’

‘Very wild, I believe.’

‘But he is an army man, and all army men are wild.’

His black eyes mocked her. ‘You knowing so many army men?’

She gave a reluctant laugh. ‘But Mr Harry is young, is he not? He will settle down.’

‘Some men never settle down. He is twenty seven. Hardly a lad.’ He changed the subject abruptly. ‘Do you miss Mannerling?’

‘So very much,’ said Jessica.

‘But it is just a house.’

‘It is more than just a house to us. We were so happy here. We had many servants and every comfort and never thought things would change.’

‘As you can command a governess of the calibre of Miss Trumble, you can hardly be living in poverty.’

‘We are comfortable enough,’ said Jessica reluctantly. ‘But it is not the same.’

‘Perhaps the road to happiness lies in an acceptance of what one has got.’

‘How true and how tedious of you to point that out. If we all believed that, then what would happen to our dreams?’

‘What indeed?’ he countered, his eyes noticing the beauty of her shining auburn hair, the thickness of her lashes, and the purity of her skin. ‘I am talking too much and keeping you from this delicious food.’

‘Gunter’s,’ she said wistfully. ‘Gunter’s of Berkeley Square. They did the catering for us at the last ball we held at Mannerling. That was where Isabella, my elder sister, met her husband. And then, shortly after that, we learned Papa had lost everything.’

‘I heard of your father’s death.’ His eyes took in the beauty of her fine muslin gown and silver overdress. ‘But you are not even in half mourning!’

‘Life goes on,’ said Jessica sententiously. ‘Such mourning clothes as we had were rather inexpertly dyed black by ourselves, and creating half mourning would mean a tedious amount of work.’

There was a dry note in his voice as he said, ‘You must miss your father.’

She flushed slightly. The truth was that they all felt so bitter about Sir William’s losing Mannerling that they had not mourned him very much. He had always been a remote, rather strange figure to Jessica. For the second time that evening, she felt ashamed of herself and out of charity with this professor, who talked to her with such familiar ease as if he had known her a long time instead of having only met her that evening.

His eyes teased her as she picked at her food. ‘I am a bear and a bad escort. I should be telling you how very beautiful you are and how fast you make my heart beat.’

Jessica was about to give him a frosty glare, but in that moment she saw Harry Devers watching her and so she gave Robert Sommerville a languishing look instead and said flirtatiously, ‘I do not believe you are a dry-as-dust professor at all. I think you are a ladies’ man.’

‘Heaven forbid. That is Harry’s role.’

‘Who is that lady with Mr Harry?’

‘That is a new addition to the county, Miss Habard. A very rich heiress and accounted a beauty until set against the Beverley sisters.’

The reality of the fact that she herself must have little or no dowry to offer any prospective husband hit Jessica like a blow. This was an age of ‘business’ marriages. Rank was important, but money was the most important thing of all. No matter how rich the family, they never encouraged their sons or daughters to marry anyone with less.

A great weariness stole over Jessica. She had been so elated earlier in the evening, basking in her sisters’ admiration, confident that all their worries and humiliations were over. Now it all seemed hopeless.

Such was Jessica’s obsession with Mannerling that she was not aware that she was taking supper with a rich and eligible man. Mannerling seemed to call to her; Mannerling seemed to mourn with her.

Then, for the first time, her own obsession appeared ridiculous to her. Her brain felt clear and light. She had been wasting her young life on a dream. All she had to do was to let go of it, forget Mannerling, forget Harry Devers, and then surely there was so much in her life she could enjoy.

Robert, who was sitting next to her, wondered what she was thinking. One moment her face had been dark and sad, and then her eyes were suddenly filled with light and relief, like someone waking from a nightmare.

She turned to him. ‘Poor Mr Sommerville, I have not been very good company. I fear I have wasted a great deal of time mourning the loss of my old home. It is only bricks and mortar after all.’

He felt light-hearted. He filled her glass with more wine. ‘A toast to the death of Mannerling,’ he said.

Jessica laughed and raised her glass. ‘Rest in peace.’

From across the room, Harry Devers watched Jessica’s beautiful face. He had been warned by his mother that Jessica’s only interest in him would be to get back into her old home. But she appeared entirely taken up with Robert. Robert was a good-looking fellow, he thought sourly. Jealousy began to rise in him. He paid no attention to what his partner was saying and watched Jessica’s every move, every expression.

As soon as the supper was over, Harry made his way to her side and requested the next dance. It was a country dance, so he did not have much opportunity to talk to her, but when they walked around the floor in the promenade at the end, he said, ‘I must ask your parents’ permission to call on you. Would you find that agreeable, Miss Jessica?’

‘I should feel honoured,’ said Jessica politely. She saw Robert Sommerville watching her and smiled at him. Harry saw that smile and added quickly, in a low voice, ‘You enchant me. You are the most beautiful lady I have ever seen.’

All Jessica’s obsession came flooding back. She looked at him somewhat dizzily. He bowed over her and she curtsied. Her next partner claimed her and how she performed the dance, which was the quadrille, she did not know, for she was filled with such triumph and elation, she felt like shouting out loud.

Miss Trumble, who had come to know Jessica very well, felt her heart sink. For a short glorious time during supper, she had felt that Jessica and the attractive professor might make a go of it, but she had noted the way Harry had murmured something to Jessica and how she had then become excited, nervous, and elated. Miss Trumble tried to remind herself severely that her job was to educate the Beverley sisters, not to run their lives or choose husbands for them. But she had become fond of them despite their pride, despite all their plots to return to Mannerling.

Robert Sommerville, too, had noticed the change in Jessica. At first he silently cursed Harry and then he shrugged. Jessica did not have the necessary strength of character that he looked for in a woman. No woman of any character would look twice at Harry. Jessica’s ambition to reclaim Mannerling was all too patent.

But how very charming she had been for that short time when her obsession had left her!

Back at Brookfield House after the ball, the sisters waited eagerly until Miss Trumble had retired for the night, and then they gathered in Jessica’s bedroom and looked at her hopefully.

‘He said,’ began Jessica, savouring her triumph, ‘that he would call on me.’

The others cheered and clapped. ‘Shh!’ admonished Jessica. ‘Miss Trumble will hear us. There is more!’

‘Tell us,’ urged Rachel.

‘He said, “You enchant me. You are the most beautiful lady I have ever seen.” ’

More laughter and clapping. ‘You are wonderful, Jessica,’ said Abigail. ‘You will not let us down the way Isabella did.’

‘But will you be happy?’ asked Lizzie suddenly.

Jessica looked at her in irritation. Why did Lizzie have to introduce such a
serious
note? She felt all-powerful. It was a game, that was all. They were enjoying the spirit of the chase.

But, oh, why did Lizzie have to say that?

She managed to laugh and gossip with her sisters for a short while longer but she felt very relieved when they finally took themselves off.

She could feel the role she had adopted of strong, confident, successful Jessica beginning to crumble, and she wearily stared at her reflection in the mirror and remembered how free she had felt when her desire for her old home had lifted. But then she thought about Harry’s words. Everything would work out very well. He was handsome and charming. It was a pity he was in the army, but surely he would sell out once they were married.

She was doing the right thing. She was doing what was expected of her.

So why did she feel so . . .
shabby?

Come in the evening, or come in the morning, Come when you’re looked for, or come without warning.

THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS

To the sisters’ dismay, Harry Devers did not call in person the following day but sent a servant with his compliments.

Two more days went by while they tried to concentrate on their lessons. Because the weather was fine, Miss Trumble had confined lessons to the morning and suggested they go out for walks in the afternoon. Jessica was beginning to feel very low. She had been so sure Harry would call. On the afternoon of the third day they were returning from one of their walks – which Miss Trumble had been trying to enliven with a botany lesson – when Lizzie suddenly exclaimed, ‘There is one of the carriages from Mannerling!’

‘Don’t run,’ admonished Miss Trumble, as they all would have started to rush forward. ‘It is very wrong to look so eager.’

They approached the house chatting loudly about the beauty of the weather and the countryside.

Betty, the little maid, bobbed a curtsy as she opened the door to them, informing Miss Trumble that ‘my lady and the gentleman are in the garden.’

The enterprising Barry had created a smooth lawn at the back of the house and had made rustic furniture and a table, which he had placed under the shade of an old cedar tree. Jessica said to the others, ‘You go ahead. I must change and look my best.’

She went quickly up to her room, calling on Betty to help her. She selected a pale-blue muslin gown with a wide blue silk sash. It had deep flounces at the hem. She noticed with dismay that it was getting a little worn under the arms. All their fine gowns made by a famous London dressmaker could not be expected to last forever. Of course, Mrs Kennedy had taught them to fix up their old gowns, often in a less fussy and more elegant style. But they had not worked on their dresses for a long time. Betty ran from room to room, collecting a matching blue silk parasol from the twins’ room and blue kid gloves from Belinda’s wardrobe.

After half an hour of frenzied preparation, Jessica made her way downstairs and out into the garden. As she approached the party under the cedar tree she stopped for a moment, hurriedly masking her disappointment. For it was not Harry Devers who sat there but Robert Sommerville.

Lady Beverley hailed her eldest daughter with relief. She felt her governess had been monopolizing the conversation. The fact was that Robert found Miss Trumble the easiest to talk to.

He rose to his feet when Jessica joined them. ‘Miss Jessica,’ he said, ‘unless you want to take tea, I would appreciate a tour of the rest of the gardens.’

Jessica quickly agreed, for she wanted to find out where Harry Devers was and whether he intended to call.

When Jessica and Robert had moved away out of earshot, Lady Beverley said, ‘I do hope that young man is not going to take her mind off her purpose.’

‘What purpose is that, my lady?’ asked Miss Trumble.

‘Harry Devers is a better prospect.’

‘In my opinion, Mr Robert Sommerville has the finer character,’ said Miss Trumble.

‘No one asked you for your opinion,’ snapped Lady Beverley. ‘I will decide who is suitable for my daughter and who is not.’

Rachel, Abigail, Belinda, and Lizzie exchanged little smiles. Miss Trumble saw those smiles and fought down her irritation. They had begun to like her and respect her, she was aware of that, just as she was now aware that ambition to get Mannerling back had drawn them together against her.

‘There is not very much in the way of a garden to see,’ Jessica was saying.

‘On the contrary,’ said Robert, looking around at the beginnings of an orchard and the well-kept grass, ‘someone has been hard at work.’

‘That is Barry, our odd man; he does the gardening as well,’ said Jessica. ‘But you must admit, we can hardly compete with the gardens at Mannerling.’

‘And why should you want to try?’ asked Robert.

‘It is simply when one has been brought up in a certain style, then it is difficult to adjust to a lesser,’ said Jessica patiently.

‘But you have been here for some time now. You have surely adjusted yourself to your circumstances.’

‘It is hard,’ said Jessica, looking into his dark eyes for sympathy and finding none.

The fact was that Robert was beginning to chide himself for wasting time with this beautiful girl who appeared to have nothing in her mind except a bitter longing to regain her home. Her next question, put with badly affected casualness, did not surprise him.