Lady of Lincoln (5 page)

S
ir Gareth Blades greeted his brother-in-law with great
pleasure
. ‘Alan, my dear fellow,’ he declared, flicking the touch of grey at the other man’s temples. ‘You’re getting very
distinguished
. When do I greet you as my lord bishop?’

Alan Trimmer laughed. ‘Never, I hope,’ he answered. ‘I fear I don’t have the legs for gaiters.’ He was a man of about forty with finely drawn features and light-brown hair. He was a little taller than his brother-in-law, but much slimmer. ‘In fact,’ he went on thoughtfully, looking down at the other man’s
muscular
calves, ‘I’m not sure whether you don’t have a much better figure for them than I.’

The baronet held up one hand in a defensive gesture. ‘Heaven forbid!’ he declared fervently. ‘I suspect that even the church at its most lax would not consider good legs for a bishop’s gaiters to be sufficient reason for entering the ranks of the clergy.’

Trimmer grinned wryly. ‘You’d be surprised,’ he answered. ‘What brings you here, anyway?’

‘Purely a desire to visit my dear sister and her charming family,’ Gareth replied, raising his glass to the lady in question.

‘Gammon,’ his sister replied frankly, even while she bestowed a fond smile upon him. ‘I very much suspect you’ve been with friends in the area and have outstayed your welcome.’

‘Not at all,’ her brother replied. ‘Quite the reverse, in fact.
Houghton begged me to stay a little longer, but, out of loyalty to you….’ He glanced at Aurelia, broke off, then added in another tone, ‘Oh very well, then, if you must have it. Christina Langland turned up with all four of her daughters in tow, and they wouldn’t leave me alone. If I had stayed, I would have ended up either being very rude to them, or finding myself in parson’s mousetrap, so I pleaded family reasons and made good my escape.’

‘I knew it!’ his sister declared. ‘Forty years old and you are still evading your responsibilities.’

‘By no means,’ Sir Gareth replied, getting out a box of snuff and offering his brother-in-law a pinch before taking some himself. ‘I’ve no more objection to my responsibilities than any other man; it’s my pursuers I want to evade.’

‘Stop splitting hairs, Gareth,’ said his sister firmly. ‘You know that it is high time you married.’

‘Possibly. But I haven’t yet found a woman that I want to put in Mama’s place, and until I do, I’ll remain a bachelor.’ His sister looked unconvinced, so he added coaxingly, ‘My dear Aurelia, I have before me in you and Alan an example of perfect wedded bliss. Surely you don’t wish me to settle for anything less?’

‘You don’t want the title to die out with you, though,’ put in Alan Trimmer.

‘I’d rather it didn’t, but I’m not going to get worked up about it. Worldly vanity, my dear brother,’ he added piously, casting his eyes to heaven.

‘Play actor,’ laughed the other, cuffing him on his arm.

‘Besides, who’s to say that I couldn’t arrange for the title to go to one of your boys?’ Gareth suggested.

‘
I
say that you
shouldn’t
,’ said Aurelia firmly. ‘The title should go to
your
son, not mine.’

‘Well, don’t try to marry me off whilst I’m here,’ said the baronet firmly. ‘Not to that plainly dressed spinster, nor to anyone else of your acquaintance!’

They were all quiet for a few moments, then Sir Gareth changed the subject by saying: ‘There was another matter that I wanted to bring to your attention. It has come to my ears that our disreputable cousin Bernard is no more.’

‘Good heavens!’ exclaimed Aurelia, dropping her embroidery in her surprise. ‘Do you mean he has actually … passed away?’

‘Yes, if such a peaceful sounding expression could be used to describe his manner of death. He was killed in a drunken brawl in Paris.’

‘Paris!’ Alan Trimmer echoed. ‘Last time you heard of him he was in London surely.’

‘He made London decidedly too hot for himself,’ the baronet answered. ‘He was forced to flee abroad. The authorities sent his effects back to me. There were precious few of them, in all truth; but among them was a cravat pin.’ He reached into his pocket as he spoke. ‘I’ve a feeling that this was made from a brooch
belonging
to Grandmama which was promised to you, Aurelia, and which he purloined. I thought you might like to have it back.’

Aurelia put out her hand reluctantly, and accepted the
ornament
that he placed in it. ‘It
should
have been mine,’ she agreed, ‘but I feel strangely reluctant to take possession of it now.’

‘Then keep it for one of the boys,’ her brother suggested. ‘I should have thought that something with a grisly history would suit Oliver down to the ground. In fact, only convince him that Bernard was wearing it at the moment of his demise and it will no doubt become his favourite piece.’

Aurelia gave a short laugh. ‘You’re absolutely right of course,’ she agreed, putting the pin away amongst her sewing things.

At that moment, the boys came in announcing that they had completed their task, and the subject was changed.

‘But surely my dear Aurelia, you do not intend to ignore your brother’s expressed wishes?’ Alan Trimmer asked his wife that evening when he went to her bedchamber in order to say good night.

‘Certainly not,’ she replied with dignity. She was sitting up in her bed, a light shawl about her shoulders, for the evening was warm, and a rather fetching night cap upon her head. ‘It is simply that I do not believe that Gareth knows his own mind in this matter.’

‘Not know his own mind? A man of his age? I hope you will not allow him to hear you express that opinion!’ He wandered over to the bedroom window, lifted the curtain to glance out, then let it drop again. ‘Aurelia, my dear, it never ceases to amaze me how wherever we go, you manage so quickly to contrive to make the place seem like home.’

‘Thank you, my love,’ replied his wife, much gratified, ‘Which is exactly why I desire dear Gareth to find a wife who will make him comfortable. And how is he to find one, pray, if his nearest and dearest do not make shift to help him?’

‘From what I have heard, my dear, plenty of ladies have already been making strenuous efforts on his behalf,’ said the clergyman, sitting on the bed again, taking hold of his wife’s hand and turning her wedding ring idly with his long fingers. ‘I see no reason why you should add to their ranks.’

‘There is every reason, Alan. All of those ladies have some other aim in view apart from Gareth’s happiness. Christina Langland’s girls are as plain as a set of schoolroom chairs, and she is desperate to marry them off; why, the oldest one must be quite twenty-four! If I do not miss my guess, Millicent Copthorne was there as well, and everyone knows that that family has nothing to offer but debts! As for Annis Hughes, she has been chasing him for ever. If he did marry her, I doubt very much if he could ever be sure that any child she produced really was his.’

‘Aurelia!’ her husband declared in shocked tones.

‘Well, it’s true,’ she replied firmly. ‘Would you desire a
sister-in
-law like that?’

‘I confess I would not,’ he admitted, ‘but as for the other ladies, I have only heard you say that one is poor and others are
not pretty. Would you condemn them for such reasons?’

‘Not condemn them, no; but I refuse to permit any woman to marry my brother simply to get herself out of her own
difficulties
. No, say what you will, Alan, I am much more likely to find him a suitable bride. After all, my motives are by far the purest.’

‘But how are you to achieve that, dearest?’ Trimmer asked his wife. He got up to blow out the candles on the mantelpiece and on the dressing-table. ‘After all, you have no acquaintance here at all – unless you count the lady who was visiting earlier on today.’ His task accomplished, he wandered back to sit on the bed again.

Mrs Trimmer, who had been leaning back against her pillows in a relaxed manner, suddenly sat bolt upright. ‘Alan! What a splendid idea!’

Her husband frowned. ‘My dear Aurelia, do not think me a fault finder, but did you not say that the oldest Miss Langland, at twenty-four, was too old for your brother? My suspicion is that Miss Whittaker may easily be older than that.’

‘No no, I do not mean that she would make a match for him,’ his wife said hastily, ‘but she said herself that she has lived here all her life. She will be bound to know all the young ladies who live around here and which ones are eligible and which are not. She will be the perfect person to consult.’

‘My dear, are you sure that that is wise?’ he ventured, his brow creasing a little.

‘I see no reason why not. Oh, I will be discreet, of course, but anyone could tell from looking at the lady that she is
transparently
honest.’

‘That is not what I was thinking,’ he replied.

‘Explain?’

‘I overheard you telling your brother that he had captivated her with his fine eyes, or some such thing. If she has become enamoured of him, then surely it would be cruel in the extreme to ask her help in finding a wife for him.’

‘Oh fiddle,’ declared his sensible wife. ‘People do not fall in love in that kind of instantaneous way. She was flustered at meeting a strange man, that is all.’

‘I’m sure it is just as you say, my love,’ replied Mr Trimmer with a smile. ‘I was just wondering …’ His voice tailed off as he stopped fiddling with his wife’s ring, and ran his fingers up the inside of her arm to her elbow.

‘Yes, Alan?’ she replied innocently.

‘I know you have had a good deal to do today,’ he continued, looking down at the coverlet.

‘That’s true,’ she agreed.

‘I was wondering if you were very tired, or…?’

‘No, Alan,’ she answered, pulling back the coverlet in invitation. ‘I’m not tired at all.’

The members of Canon Whittaker’s household had never kept very late hours, and after Emily had retired for the night,
especially
in the summer months when she would go to her room before it was properly dark, she would find it impossible to sleep before she had read a few pages of a book.

Before meeting Nathalie, her reading matter had often been Shakespeare. She would sometimes close her eyes and try to imagine what the different characters might look like and how they might sound as they spoke their lines.

Now, she had slightly different subject matter to absorb her, for she had borrowed from Nathalie a copy of Mrs Radcliffe’s novel,
The Mysteries of Udolpho
, published just a few years ago. Yet although she picked it up once her bedroom door was closed, she sat with it unopened on her knee, her thoughts going instead to the ideas that she had had for a book when she had been in Mablethorpe. As she recalled the pictures that had come into her mind, the hero seemed to take on new life, and she now realized that he bore the features of Sir Gareth Blades. Blades! Now there was a fine name for a character in a book.

She remembered the conversation that they had had
concerning 
Canon Mitchell. Of course it had been very shocking for Sir Gareth to suggest that the clergyman might have pushed his wife down the stairs. What a splendid incident it would make in a novel, however! Perhaps the principal characters might discover that an elderly clergyman had murdered his wife. Perhaps the heroine might discover the body and fling herself into the hero’s arms out of shock!

Blushing at the very thought, Emily opened the novel on her lap and began to read. Minutes later, she burst out laughing, for on reaching the third page, it became clear that the heroine was called Emily! Perhaps, then, she was destined to be a heroine after all. 

M
rs Trimmer did not waste any time in furthering her acquaintance with Emily Whittaker, and the following day, she made her way to Canon Whittaker’s house. Emily was already about her household duties when her new neighbour arrived, but she gladly left the sorting of the linen cupboard to Mrs Ashby, and came downstairs to greet her guest and offer her refreshment.

‘Thank you, I should be very glad of something,’ Mrs Trimmer admitted. ‘The boys can be quite exhausting first thing in the morning, but Alan and Gareth have taken them to walk about the town a little. They talked of going to a place called Brayford. Is it very far?’

Remembering what her husband had said, she watched Emily keenly when her brother’s name was mentioned, but Emily did not even look conscious let alone blush at the mention of the baronet. Instead she said with a smile, ‘It’s not very far, and they will have a fine view of the cathedral, but they will have a very steep climb back up.’

‘Oh, splendid,’ Mrs Trimmer replied. ‘That will have the double advantage of occupying them and tiring them out.’

‘The boys, or the gentlemen?’ Emily said humorously. Then she blushed at her own temerity, for she hardly knew Mrs Trimmer and, as far as she could remember, had never before addressed a visitor in such a flippant way.

Her new neighbour laughed. ‘I meant the boys, but you are quite right, of course. Gentlemen can also be a nuisance under one’s feet. I dare say you sometimes find it to be the case?’

Emily gave a little gasp. She had never before presumed to think of her papa or her grandpapa in this kind of way. She could hardly take offence, for it was she who had first spoken presumptuously, and she found herself saying slowly, ‘I do not think that they mean to be so.’

‘No, I am sure they do not,’ Mrs Trimmer agreed. After a moment or two’s thought, she went on, ‘Speaking of the boys, I have not yet decided what to do about their education.’

‘Will you send them away to school?’ Emily asked curiously.

‘I had always thought that I would do so eventually, but I am now in two minds,’ the other woman admitted. ‘What kind of education is provided at the grammar school? Do you know anything about it? They are too young yet, of course, but I think that Alan intends to remain here in Lincoln, so I need to look ahead.’

‘I believe that it was very good at one time,’ Emily answered, ‘but I understand that people are not as satisfied with it as they were. One should not speak ill of the dead, I know, but the master who died a year ago held other livings and didn’t really give enough time to it. Perhaps this new century will bring an improvement. I am in no position to provide a personal
recommendation
, or a personal criticism. I had a governess, you see, and my brother Patrick went to Eton.’

‘Like Gareth,’ put in Mrs Trimmer. ‘I wonder whether they knew each other? Did your father not think highly of the local school?’

‘I don’t think that it was because Papa had a low opinion of the local school,’ Emily replied. ‘I think that he wanted my brother to gain a wider view of life than that provided within the city.’

‘He did not think that the same thing was necessary for you, evidently.’

‘No. No, he didn’t,’ Emily agreed after a short silence.

‘Well, I shall visit the school and see what I think,’ concluded Mrs Trimmer. ‘In the meantime, of course, they will need a governess.’

‘Do you teach them yourself at the moment?’ Emily asked her.

Mrs Trimmer sighed. ‘Unfortunately at present I have no choice in the matter,’ she answered. ‘They did have a governess until we moved. She was called Miss Bright and she was an excellent person and both the boys liked her, but she got married just before we came to Lincoln. I am fending for myself at the moment, and Alan is very capable of taking them for some lessons, but it can only be a temporary arrangement. Can you think of anyone who might be prepared to teach them?’

Emily thought for a moment. ‘There is no one whose name springs to mind,’ she admitted. ‘But I will let you know if I think of anyone.’

After a brief silence, Aurelia said, ‘That was one subject that I wanted to consult you about. Now I have another, and since we are upon visiting and consulting terms, pray call me Aurelia; may I call you Emily?’

‘Yes of course,’ Emily replied, trying to think of another lady, apart from Nathalie, with whom she was on Christian-name terms.

‘There is a matter about which I need to glean information and you, as a lifetime resident of the Close, will probably be able to help me better than anyone.’

‘Of course I will, if I can,’ Emily answered, happy to be of service.

‘I am really hoping to find out from you if there are any
eligible
young ladies living in the Close, and if there are, what their dispositions may be like.’

‘Young ladies?’ Emily echoed, puzzled.

Aurelia leaned forward and dropped her voice a little. ‘I am thinking of Gareth,’ she said.

‘Gareth?’

‘My brother Gareth,’ Aurelia explained, the tiniest hint of impatience in her voice. ‘He is forty years old now, and it is high time that he married. He has a title and property, and there are no more brothers or even male cousins in our family now, so the line will die out if he does not set up his nursery.’

‘I see,’ said Emily. She was remembering what a very
attractive
man Sir Gareth was. It seemed strange to her that his sister should feel it necessary to find a wife for him.

Almost as if she could read Emily’s thoughts, Aurelia spoke again. ‘He does not seem to be able to find a woman to suit him, the foolish man. In fact, he has run away from a houseful of eligible females; that is why he comes to be here.’

‘Perhaps he does not wish to be married,’ Emily suggested.

‘Nonsense! Of course he wishes it,’ replied the baronet’s sister. ‘He has said himself that he would like to be as happy as Alan and I. The only difficulty lies in finding the right woman.’

At that moment, Mr Whittaker came in, and Emily presented him to their new neighbour. She was a little afraid that Mrs Trimmer’s decisive manner might give her father the impression that the clergyman’s wife was overbold, but she need not have worried. That lady had a wide experience of social and
ecclesiastical
gatherings, and she was able to strike just the right note.

‘I was just saying how grateful I was to your daughter for coming to see me yesterday, Canon,’ she was saying. ‘Her act in welcoming the stranger showed true Christian charity.’

‘I am delighted to hear you say so,’ answered Mr Whittaker, smiling gently. ‘I very seldom have to blush for anything in Emily’s behaviour.’

‘Papa, I am thirty, not thirteen,’ Emily protested.

‘Emily!’ said her father in a tone of gentle reproof. He turned to Mrs Trimmer with an apologetic smile. ‘Still headstrong, I am afraid ma’am.’

Mrs Trimmer smiled back, but briefly. ‘You have a fine cathedral here,’ she remarked. ‘I am very much looking forward to
getting to know it.’

‘If you ever wanted me to take you round the cathedral, I should be glad to do so,’ Emily offered diffidently.

‘I expect the dean will want to take Mr Trimmer around the cathedral himself,’ her father said. ‘I doubt whether our little efforts will be needed, my dear.’

‘I am sure that the dean and my husband will have a
fascinating
visit together, but I do not think that they would want myself or the boys in the way,’ murmured Mrs Trimmer. ‘We should be very glad of your daughter’s services.’

‘Well, that is very good of you to find Emily something useful to do,’ answered the canon. ‘But for now, I must leave you, if you will excuse me. It is time for me to visit my father. Emily, I trust you will not be negligent in that respect.’

‘No, Papa,’ Emily agreed.

Her father went out and closed the door. After he had gone, Mrs Trimmer looked at Emily’s tightly clasped hands, then glanced around at the room, spotted the fire irons and set them up in a clear part of the floor. Then she took a cushion off the rather old-fashioned sofa, handed it to Emily and, indicating the fire irons, said, ‘Go on, throw it. You’ll feel better, I promise you.’

After staring at her visitor for a moment or two, Emily took hold of the cushion, pressed her lips firmly together, and threw it at the fire irons, which fell with a tremendous clatter.

When the maid came in moments later to see what on earth the noise had been about, Mrs Trimmer was standing the irons up in the grate and saying, ‘Oh my goodness, how clumsy of me. I must have caught them as I turned.’ Emily was standing at the window with her back to the room. Once the maid had
ascertained
that there was nothing for her to do, she withdrew. As she did so, Aurelia heard a strange choking sound, and for a
dreadful
moment wondered whether Emily was crying. Then the other woman turned round and it was clear that she was
laughing
, rather in the manner of a person who does not know how.

‘Have you never wanted to do that before?’ Aurelia asked curiously, when Emily had calmed down and they had ordered a fresh pot of tea.

‘I think I have, often,’ Emily admitted, ‘but I have only just realized that that is what I had wanted to do.’

‘What do you usually do?’

‘I go to the cathedral,’ Emily replied simply. ‘I can be myself there. That is where I have always gone if ever I have felt
troubled
about anything.’ She looked straight at the other woman and said, ‘The Lincoln imp always makes me smile.’ With that she turned upon her visitor a smile of great sweetness that made her look considerably younger than her thirty years.

The second pot of tea had just arrived when there was a knock at the front door, and soon the sound of voices in the hall told them that Mr Trimmer and Sir Gareth had arrived. Had Mrs Trimmer been looking at her hostess at that moment, then some of her earliest suspicions would have been confirmed, but she was suddenly afflicted with a sneezing fit, and by the time she looked at Emily again, that lady was standing up in order to greet the visitors.

In between the arrival of the gentlemen and their entrance, Emily had told herself severely that her strange reaction to Sir Gareth Blades the previous day had simply been some kind of nervous condition, probably brought on by too much novel reading. There was nothing special about him. He was perhaps a little more stylish than most of the men she had met, but that was all.

Then the door opened and, as she caught sight of him, her heart and breathing played the same stupid trick upon her as they had done before. Both gentlemen were dressed in top boots and tan breeches, but Sir Gareth was in a dark-blue coat which seemed to impart some of that colour to his eyes, and his smile was just as devastating as she had remembered.

‘Miss Whittaker, good morning,’ he said in his deep voice, as he bowed politely. ‘Finding that Aurelia had come to see you,
we made so bold as to do the same.’

‘You are very welcome,’ Emily managed to say without
stammering
. ‘Would you like some tea, or …’ She paused, not sure what else there might be in the house that would be suitable for two gentlemen who had just been for a long walk.

‘Tea would be delightful,’ Sir Gareth answered, smiling at the maid who disappeared in order to fetch two more cups. ‘But you must allow me to introduce my brother-in-law to you, for I do not think that you met him when you came yesterday.’

Emily greeted the new clergyman, and was soon put at her ease by his calm manner. ‘Did you have an agreeable walk?’ she asked them. ‘Your sister mentioned that you might perhaps go to Brayford.’

‘The walk
there
was agreeable,’ Mr Trimmer qualified, ‘but I think that it will be some time before my muscles recover from that climb back up the hill.’

‘For shame, Alan!’ Sir Gareth exclaimed mockingly. ‘What you really need to do is tackle the same walk every day for a week, then you’ll soon be in shape.’

Mr Trimmer looked less than enthusiastic. ‘It’s my belief that you are in conspiracy with the boys,’ he retorted, ‘for they certainly declared themselves ready to take the same walk tomorrow; by the way, we left them at home as we came past.’

‘And what did you reply, sir?’ Emily asked him.

The clergyman looked a little guilty. ‘I told them that I had a sermon to write,’ he admitted.

‘Oh Alan, what a shocking untruth!’ exclaimed his wife. ‘You will have no credibility with them at all if they find out.’

‘I believe I lost most of my credit with them as I staggered behind them on the way up Steep Hill,’ he replied. ‘And I am rapidly losing what remains every time Oliver asks me a
question
about Lincoln to which I don’t know the answer.’

‘Well what can you expect?’ his wife asked in reasonable tones. ‘Children never believe that their parents know anything, do they?’ she added, turning to Emily.

To her great annoyance, Emily found herself stammering and blushing again, for she could not remember challenging her father upon any matter. ‘I … I cannot say,’ she murmured.

‘Fie, Aurelia,’ Sir Gareth declared. ‘Anyone can see by
looking
at Miss Whittaker that she was an obedient child.’

‘Unlike myself, I suppose you will say,’ his sister retorted.

‘If the cap fits, my dear, I would be the last man to prevent you from wearing it,’ he replied with a smile.

There was general laughter in which Emily joined, and she reflected that she had not laughed as much as this in her own home for many a long year.

The tea had just arrived when Mr Whittaker came back in and, of course, Emily was then obliged to introduce him to the two gentlemen. Mr Trimmer greeted his fellow clergyman with courtesy and a deference that was pleasing to an older man.

Sir Gareth murmured polite gratification at the introduction then said, ‘Since I met your daughter yesterday, sir, I have been trying to remember where I have met someone by your name before. Today, I have been looking at the portrait above your fireplace, and I wonder whether perhaps it is of Patrick Whittaker?’