Lady Drusilla's Road to Ruin (18 page)

‘I am not,’ Dru said defensively, knowing that she was. A day without him would seem like for ever.

‘You have done her good, Mr Hendricks. In a week, you have made her human. Now kiss her and go.’

‘Priscilla.’ Dru barely had time to begin her outraged harangue, before he’d responded,

‘As you wish, Lady Priscilla.’

And he seized her, quite capably, and pulled her off balance and into his arms. The kiss was the best one he had given her, deep and slow to make his claim on her in front of sister and servants and anyone else who might see it.

Dru flapped her hands in protest for a moment, before deciding that to struggle would be to waste an opportunity. So she stretched out her arms around his neck and kissed him back until she heard her wayward sister say, ‘Really, Mr Hendricks. That is quite enough to prove your point.’

Then she felt Priss tugging her away and upright again. ‘And you, Drusilla. You are near to eating the man alive on a public highway and making us all nauseous. There will be time enough for that later, when you are alone.’

‘She is right, Dru.’ John was straightening his coat and looking at her with a polite smile. ‘Let me go and talk to your father. I will see you again, after.’

‘After,’ she said, holding on to the word and managing a wave of farewell. No matter what happened with her father, she would see him again, even if it was only to say goodbye.

Chapter Nineteen

J
ohn removed his hat and waited in the entry of the Folbroke town house for the butler to announce him. It was strange, after little more than a week, to be actively seeking the company of the very people he had run from. But in those few days much had changed, and he needed the advice of a friend. Now that he was not in the service of the Earl of Folbroke, he could think of no one in his life that better fit the position.

This particular house had been shut for so much of his tenure with the family that he hardly remembered it. On the few occasions he’d had to visit it, the Holland covers had been on what furniture remained, and the rooms eerily silent. It was quite different from Adrian’s old digs, which were barely large enough for a bachelor and a small staff. They had been sufficient for the earl’s reclusion from his wife, but unsuitable for a happily married man.

John smiled at the thought of Adrian’s sudden eagerness to indulge his wife and probed his own heart for any hint of jealousy. He was relieved to find none. The care of Emily had been his sole concern for years. The idea that she somehow belonged to him had come on him slowly. But the madness had left quickly enough, when it was clear that she’d returned to her husband.

The reconciliation between husband and wife appeared to be a permanent thing, if Emily was setting up the London house, just as it always should have been. From his position in the foyer, John could see a steady stream of furniture going in and out of attics and box rooms. And he was sure that when Emily was happy with it, the composition would be both fashionable and easy for her husband to navigate.

From a door on his left, there came the familiar tap of the cane, and the call, ‘Mr Hendricks. Back already? Do not hang about in the doorway, waiting for an invitation. My study is just to one side of the stairs. It is the only peace you will find in this house, until my wife is done arranging the chairs.’

He smiled in spite of himself, for as it always had, the ‘Mistuh’ before his name had the sharp call of a commander, and a tone that could cut through the chaos of a battlefield. ‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Or, at least, I think it is orderly and peaceful,’ Adrian Longesley added. ‘I barely know myself.’ He had made his way into the hallway, his cane held casually in front of him so that he might feel for obstacles.

John resisted the desire to set his former employer on the right path. He knew, despite the man’s blindness, that he would prefer to make his own errors than to be led about his own house like a wayward child. ‘It presents a challenge for you, does it not, when you move from familiar surroundings?’

‘The rooms in Jermyn Street were simple enough, but I’d grown far too comfortable in my misery there. Emily has seen to it that my study here was the first to be finished so that I might have sanctuary. The problems have been minimal.’ He grinned at the thought of his wife. ‘But she is always thinking of such things. I swear, Hendricks, it is quite miraculous the way she has adjusted to my quirks.’

‘I am not the least surprised,’ John replied. His only real surprise was the lack of trepidation he felt in meeting with Lady Folbroke again.

Adrian led him back to the study and gestured him to a chair, almost as if he could see the thing, then took a seat behind his own desk. ‘But what brings you back again so soon, John? Not seeking your old job, are you? It has been barely a fortnight since you left me, you know.’ There was a small amount of reproof there, and John wondered, should he be forced to ask for it again, if he would be welcome. Then the earl smiled. ‘I had high hopes for you, when you stormed out of here. It was kindness that kept you at my side, after the war. But you are capable of more than the duties you performed for me.’

He hoped Adrian was not expecting him to give a polite insistence that the duties had suited him well, as had the pay. Perhaps they had, at the time. Instead, he said, ‘I am beginning to suspect that you are right, Lord Folbroke. It is not that they did not please me while I worked for you. I left, planning to seek an equally satisfactory position. But I’ve recently come to the conclusion that I must aim higher. I doubt that my old salary will be sufficient, now that I am to be married.’

‘Marriage!’ Adrian laughed, and slammed his palm down upon the desk. ‘I will help you to make your fortune, John, in any way that I can. But there must be quite a story attached to this and I will not lift a finger until I have heard it. Who is the girl?’

‘Her identity is part of the problem,’ Hendricks admitted. ‘She is the daughter of a duke.’

‘Better than the wife of an earl,’ said Adrian. The blank eyes looked at him intently, but without animosity.

‘If a certain member of the peerage did not have such a damned appealing countess, it would never have been a problem.’ He glanced towards the hall, and said quietly, ‘How is she?’

‘As long as you mean to give your heart elsewhere, you must tell me for yourself.’ Adrian called into the hall, ‘Emily, come to the study. We have a visitor with a most interesting tale to tell.’

John stood to greet the Countess of Folbroke, giving his spectacles a nervous polish before she entered. It was not necessary. For even without them he could see that she was as beautiful as she had been. After only a moment’s hesitation, she reached out her hands to him and he clasped them in greeting. ‘Mr Hendricks.’

He dipped his head in a half-bow and said, ‘Lady Folbroke.’ There was the raised chin and the clear discerning gaze that he had found so attractive. But strangely, she seemed smaller, after his two weeks away. Everything about her was less than he remembered.

Then it struck him. The features that he had most admired in her, the strength, the forthright nature and the tenacity, were as flowers in bud, compared to the rose he had discovered on the way to Scotland. And Dru had the colouring to suit her temperament. He thought for a moment of that thick black hair, falling through his hands.

He fiddled with his glasses to hide his distraction, and his relief at being able to see the woman before him as clearly as he did. And then he turned to the earl and lied through his teeth. ‘If it is possible, she is even lovelier than when I last saw her.’

‘Perhaps our reconciliation has done me good,’ she said, smiling at her husband. Without another thought for John, she released his hands and went behind the desk to perch herself on the arm of her husband’s chair. In an equally unconscious gesture, the earl’s hand came to her waist to steady her. Hendricks had to admit that, seeing them together this way, all was right with the world.

Adrian looked up at his wife fondly. ‘Mr Hendricks is in need of our help. He has got himself affianced to some young thing that is quite above him.’

‘Not affianced,’ Hendricks insisted. ‘It has not come to that yet, although I have asked and she has said yes. It is her father that is likely to be the problem.’

‘And who might he be?’ Folbroke asked.

‘His Grace, the Duke of Benbridge.’

Adrian’s mouth puckered as though he had been forced to taste something foul. And Emily nearly sprang from her chair. ‘Do not say so, Mr Hendricks. I had thought that you had more sense than that. Why…the girl is quite unsuitable.’

‘Now, Emily,’ her husband cautioned. ‘Mr Hendricks will think you have some unfair motive to reject his beloved out of hand in this way. The father is a pill, of course. But surely the girl—’

‘Is someone you have not met,’ Emily said firmly. ‘And though she is pretty enough, Priscilla Rudney is a cloth-brained goose.’

Hendricks stifled a smile. ‘Then I must assure you, it is not Priscilla at all that I mean to snare. It is the elder sister.’

‘She has a sister?’ For a moment, Emily seemed quite baffled. Then she said, ‘A tall, dark girl, is she not? Or a woman, I should say. She must be almost four and twenty.’

‘And still unmarried?’ Adrian said in surprise.

‘Her name is Drusilla,’ Hendricks said, equally surprised at the protectiveness he felt for her.

‘Her family calls her Silly,’ Emily interjected.

‘And I assure you, it is a most inappropriate nickname.’

Emily nodded in relief. ‘That is some comfort to me then, for I would hate to think that the older daughter was any worse than the younger. Very well. You wish to marry above you, and it will be a challenge to present the suit to Benbridge. But, and you must forgive me for saying it, Mr Hendricks, at her age, the girl is on the shelf. He will not be so particular as he is for the younger one. If there is affection on both sides of this match—’

‘There is,’ John interposed. ‘Very much so. And I have come to suspect that she is not on the shelf, so much as she has been placed there by her father. All his attention has been focused on Priscilla, at the expense of Dru.’

‘And it has made her spoiled and wilful,’ said Emily with conviction. ‘But I will trust your judgement that Drusilla does not share those particular faults.’

All in the room grinned like fools at the thought of their own particular happinesses. Then John said, cautiously, ‘It has all come on me rather suddenly. And as you can see, if I mean to have Dru, I have set myself a task. So I come to you, not so much seeking a position as seeking the advice…’ he gave his spectacles another polish ‘…the advice of friends. I will go to meet Benbridge later in the day, to explain the circumstances in which I met his daughters, which are unusual. I am going with no family, no title, and not even a stable position. I have very little to offer but my love for his daughter, and her love for me.’

Adrian frowned. ‘I am sorry, John, but while that might matter to another, that will mean less than nothing to Benbridge. The man is a miserable old sinner, with a heart like a flint. Still, tell us your story, and we will put our heads together so that you might present yourself in the most favourable light. I am sure that we will be throwing orange blossoms by spring.’

Chapter Twenty

‘A
Mr John Hendricks to see you, your Grace.’ John had wondered, as he spoke to Adrian, whether it would be better to present himself as Captain Hendricks, and had been assured that a lowly captaincy would mean nothing, even if he were in command of a ship. But that it should not dissuade him, for it was nothing personal. Benbridge was so stiff that he was just as likely to wipe his feet upon a major as speak to him.

‘It is in regards to their ladyships.’ From the hall, John could hear the butler give a respectful pause.

‘Bring him here, immediately.’
Sliced thin and served with mustard.
For all the warmth and concern in his voice, his Grace might as well have been ordering supper than expecting word of his daughters’ safety.

John entered the study and stood in silence before the man, waiting his turn to speak.

‘I left the city for barely a day,’ the duke began, low and cold, ‘and returned to find that all hell had broken loose, and there was nothing left of my family but a brief and inadequate note. My daughters had no plans to travel, nor did they have my permission to do so. What part did you play in their departure?’

He had not led with the question that John had expected.
Who are you?
But it seemed that the duke had reached a station in life where courtesy was neither required nor expected. He knew that John was a nobody, or he’d have known him already. Only his daughters mattered. ‘I had no part at all in their departure, your Grace,’ he answered with great relief. ‘But I did my humble best to aid in their return.’

‘From where, Mr Hendricks?’ his Grace snapped.

‘Kendal. A little south of the Scottish border.’

‘I see. Which one was it, then, that caused the trouble? And how did you become involved in it?’

And please, sit.
Though they would have been welcome, they were not words he was likely to hear, now that he had met Benbridge. Apparently, the length of the story or the comfort of the teller was of no concern to the audience. John took a well-measured breath to show that he was not the least bit ill at ease. ‘These are the facts as I know them.’ He proceeded to tell the most abbreviated version of them he could manage. He began with the carriage ride, omitting any mention of his drunkenness or the sleeping arrangements. He explained Dru’s goal, while showing no particular interest in the scandal of it. He explained the problems with the carriage, while conveniently forgetting the trousers. And lastly, he explained the discovery of the runaways in the most deliberately vague way possible, eliding dates and ending with an assurance that the dancing master had decided it was in the best interest of his health to remain in Scotland.

When he finished, the Duke looked at him with a jaundiced eye. ‘You say that before the journey, you were in the employ of Folbroke? He must be ruing the loss of you, for it is a rare talent you possess to spin a tale that is equally devoid of truth and untruth.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’ John was not completely sure that it was meant as a compliment, but he decided to accept it as one and let Benbridge make what he would of the irony.

‘What is your opinion on the state of my daughters’ reputations?’

‘I cannot be positive that this will go unnoticed, my lord. I am more sure of Lady Drusilla, for I was with her from the first.’ And knew exactly the risks that they had taken. ‘Lady Priscilla was, perhaps, less careful.’ And there was an understatement. ‘But though the roads were beastly, the accommodations were crowded with people well below the level of the
ton
. It is quite possible that there will be no tales spread abroad at all.’

The Duke looked at him again, eyes sharp. ‘No one will hear, unless you would choose to speak of it.’

‘I find, even now, sir, that I have trouble remembering the particulars, or the name of the young women involved.’

The Duke gave a slight nod. ‘I should have known as much. Silly would never have engaged you if she did not have total confidence in your discretion.’

There was the nickname again, delivered as offhandedly as breathing. And to a girl that was as unlike it as it was possible to be. He held his ground and remained emotionless.

‘She promised you payment, did she not? It seems you have managed well. Knowing my girls, you will have worked to earn any reward. Many would not have taken the trouble with them, for they are high spirited, always getting up to some trouble or other.’ He thought for a moment and then added, ‘Priscilla, at least.’

John bit his tongue to keep from chiding the man that there was nothing of simple high spirits in the behaviour of the younger daughter, for he did not want to think that it was blackmail that brought him to thus.

The duke reached into his desk and produced a chequebook.

‘About that, your Grace…’

The man stopped his hand on the way to the ink well, probably expecting John to haggle over the price.

‘It is not that I am unappreciative of your offer. But I find that there is something I would value, more than reimbursement.’

‘And what is that, then?’ Benbridge seemed puzzled that there could be another reason for John to be still standing before the desk, other than the collection of a debt.

‘In travelling with her for nearly a week, I found your daughter to be a most charming and agreeable young lady.’

‘People often say that of Priss,’ he said, as though another compliment meant nothing to him.

‘Your elder daughter, my lord. Lady Drusilla.’

‘Silly?’ her father said, as though the idea had just occurred to him that there were two.

‘Yes, my lord,’ said Hendricks, trying not to wince. ‘She is a lovely girl, with excellent manners, an even temperament and a quick wit. I have grown quite fond of her. And I have reason to suspect that she might return my feelings, given the chance.’

To this, the duke said nothing at all, as if he could not quite believe what he was hearing and was waiting for some word from Hendricks that would make it clear.

‘I wish to pay my addresses to her, with your permission of course, your Grace. Considering the delicate nature of our acquaintance, I would seek a proper introduction, here in London, so that there could be no question of our meeting in such inappropriate circumstances.’ He waited for a response, assuming that the duke would question him about his prospects.

Instead, the man said, ‘Oh, no. That will never do. I am sorry, of course. And glad that you have come to me first. But. No.’ He did not seem without sympathy, but neither did he show any desire to continue the conversation.

‘May I ask why, your Grace? If you have doubts, the Earl of Folbroke will assure you of my good character. I have sufficient funds to support Drusilla comfortably.’ The last was a lie. But a small one, he was sure. ‘And secure plans for the future.’

‘Perhaps that is true,’ Benbridge said, with a sad shake of his head. ‘But you cannot claim a title, can you? Do you have family connections that might mitigate the fact? Are you a second son, perhaps? If so, is your brother in good health?’

John pitied his imaginary brother, to see him wished to death. ‘No, sir. I am the natural son of a gentleman who saw fit to educate me, and place me properly, though he did not wish to make a formal acknowledgement.’

Benbridge drew away from him, as though the very air around him was contaminated by his parentage. ‘Surely, you can see, now that you have been forced to admit it aloud, that such would never do for Drusilla. If you are as fond of her as you claim, you must wish something better for her, just as I do.’

‘Of course, your Grace. But my feelings are strong and they moved me to speak.’

The duke smiled at him, relieved that the matter could be settled without fuss, since it involved nothing stronger than emotion. ‘Well, then, if there is nothing else?’ And then he snapped his fingers. ‘But you needed reimbursement, did you not?’

‘It is hardly necessary.’ He said it a little coldly, for if the man thought that he had come begging for the price of a carriage ride, he was sorely mistaken.

‘No, sir. I insist. For the kindness you have done for our family, if nothing else.’ And the duke opened the chequebook and with a flourish signed over an amount that was equal to three years’ wages. Heedless of the insult he had paid, he looked directly into John’s eyes so that there could be no question of the reason for the payment and said, ‘I trust this will be sufficient?’

He stared down at the duke without speaking, trying to see what Dru saw when she looked at the man that would make her care at all what he thought. Benbridge was every bit the image of his younger daughter, with blue eyes and hair that was almost ginger. But with the ruddy complexion and voice of a man who liked riding to the hounds in sun and wind, and following his exercise with a glass or two. Or perhaps three, judging by the thin veins that showed at the edge of his nose.

John had seen a portrait of the family in the front hall. If one measured the ages of the subjects, it had been painted some ten years past. From her mother, Priscilla had taken the delicate manner, the milky skin and the vivacious character.

And his Drusilla? It appeared that she had taken nothing from either parent, laid like a cuckoo’s egg in the Benbridge nest. John suspected that, should he visit the house a quarter of a century past, he might meet another dancing master. Or perhaps an artist. Or a close family friend that could give him an easy explanation for how the duke could come to have a daughter so unlike himself.

And one for whom he seemed to care so little. In all his mentions of her so far, he had been respectful, pleasant and candid, but John could hardly call the man’s actions loving. While he might dote on Priscilla, he looked at her sister rather as one might a distant cousin, who deserved better than she wanted, but should settle for what she was given.

You are like me, my darling.
Even if you do not know it.
We are natural children in an unnatural world.
And we belong together.
It gave John reason to hope.

Now, John stood there in front of the great dark wood desk, holding the bit of paper that the duke had given to him, feeling like a fool for ever having thought that the meeting would end in any other way.

‘Of course, your Grace. You are most generous in your thanks.’ The words were dry and bitter as ash. He forced his arm to bend and tucked the cheque into his pocket, swallowing bile until he could manage a tight smile of gratitude. And then, as if he was remembering the matter that had brought him here after all, he said, ‘There is one other small thing. A nothing, really. Various personal items belonging to your daughters were left in my keeping, forgotten in the carriage when we parted. A ribbon. A book, a glove. A few small articles that slipped from a trunk when they were packing at an inn. I wish to return them, if it is not too much trouble.’ And see his love again, to explain the difficulties and plot their next move.

The duke nodded. ‘Very conscientious of you, sir. And careless of them for leaving the things. Bundle them up and have them sent to the house by mail, so that they can sort them out betwixt. You needn’t trouble yourself with another call.’ He looked at John in a flat, uninterested way, as though he had already forgotten why the man might want to visit, firm as a stone wall, and just as likely to be worn away by John’s continued visits.

‘Thank you.’ John managed a nod, as though this suggestion had not just thwarted his plan. ‘Tell Lady Drusilla to expect something in the afternoon post.’