Lord Clayborne's Fancy (11 page)

“Ladies, please be seated,” Clayborne commanded in a long-suffering voice. “I am sure Mary will gratify us with an explanation of her sudden advent.”

“Well, I will, of course. You see, I came on the stage with Grimms. My abigail, you know,” she explained to Clayborne.

“I am delighted to hear that you did not come alone,” he murmured ironically.

“But, Mary, why did you come?” Rebecca prompted.

“Oh, there was never anything so horrid! Aunt Adeline is stuffy and pious—always reading a Bible to us. Sally is a sneaking, mean-spirited, chicken heart!”

“Miss Mary, you must not speak so of your relations!” expostulated Miss Turnpeck. “It is most unbecoming in you.”

“Fiddlesticks! It is no more than the truth. I had rather live in a dungeon than with them in Bath. Aunt Adeline is forever prosing on about her good works and her duty to God, to say nothing of mine, while Sally is flirting with every link boy in town. Disgusting!” Mary growled.

“Miss Mary!” Miss Turnpeck was so shocked that she dug frantically in her reticule for her vinaigrette, which she was sure must be there, as she was never without it.

“There was never anything so wretched. I could not bear to be with them,” Mary proclaimed dramatically.

“No doubt,” Clayborne said dryly. “Could you not have written to explain your situation?”

“No, I could not,” she flared at him. “I would not stay there a minute longer. Sally kept sneaking into my room to catch me reading a novel just so she could tattle on me. A novel! I don’t even like reading novels as a rule, but I was so bored that I descended even to that. And her mama would berate me and drag me off to church to be purged of my sin,” she said disgustedly.

“And then Sally would have it that I was trying to attract the attentions of the young man who lived next door to us, just because she was smitten with him. And I did no such thing—the silly-faced fop he was! I would never dream of encouraging such a one,” she declared indignantly. “Why, he could not even drive a pair.”

Rebecca let out a strangled chuckle, which was met with a reproving glance from Clayborne, so she schooled her face to a solemn look to match his own. “No doubt, my love, but it would have been wiser to write us.”

“But you do not know the whole yet! Sally told her mama of this fop and her mama forbade me to go to the party.” Mary obviously considered that this clinched the matter, and sat back with some satisfaction.

“And what party was this?” asked Clayborne.

“Well, you know, Aunt Adeline and Sally go nowhere and it is the greatest bore. We sat at home reading the Bible or went to church. We did not go to the Pump Room above twice during the time I was there. And there was to be a young people’s party where we were to meet a gentleman who had been driving a mail coach as a lark, and I so wanted to hear all about it. Aunt Adeline had finally agreed that we should go, for she knew nothing of the mail coach driver, of course, and then Sally spoiled that, too, the spiteful little witch.”

By now Miss Turnpeck was having a fit of the vapors and Meg and Rebecca were required to pay their attentions to her. Mary shed two large tears in self-pity, and Clayborne stood with his shoulders propped against the mantel, his arms folded, and viewed the scene with ill-concealed irony. “We will need to discuss the matter further, but for the present I suggest, Mary, that you be shown to a room where you can rest from your journey and try to compose yourself. Rebecca, will you please see to it?”

His wife, unable to tell from his tone of voice whether he was deeply annoyed or not, did as he suggested. “Now, Mary,” she said, as she escorted her sister into a cheerful room toward the back of the house, “I hope you will calm yourself. You are much too young to go junketing about the countryside like that, and you have upset all of them.” She shrugged vaguely in the direction of the drawing room. “But, there, I know you have been sorely distressed and I mean to see you come about. Clayborne will know what to do, you can be sure.”

“But he was displeased, wasn’t he, Becka?” Mary asked unhappily. “I had nowhere else to go, with Trudy in Suffolk and no one at home at Farthington Hall. I did not mean to make trouble for you,” she cried penitently.

“No more have you. I am pleased to have you here and know that you are safe. Do not mind Jason. He gets into the crotchets sometimes, poor dear. He does tend to be a rather high stickler and I fear you have offended his sense of what is proper, but it will not stop him feeling responsible for you, and so he will do what is best,” she assured her sister.

“Now do lie down for a bit and I shall send a maid to you later. I’m sure your own Grimms will not be up to it yet. I fear you have frightened the poor girl out of her wits.”

She settled her sister on the bed, kissed her, and drew the covers over her. When the exhausted Mary had fallen asleep, Rebecca crept from the room.

As she had no desire to face either Miss Turnpeck’s vapors or Clayborne’s tongue, Rebecca repaired to her own room. But there was no evading his lordship, for soon there was a tap on the door and he entered, a worried frown on his brow.

“I am sorry for this trouble, Jason. Now you seem to have a full complement of underage Farthingtons, to say nothing of their aging governess.”

“I realize it is no fault of yours that brings your sister here,” he replied equably.

“What are we to do with her, Jason? We could send her home with Miss Turnpeck, but then Meg would probably have to go, too, and I do not wish to lose her company as yet. Can Mary stay here with us? I cannot imagine what I shall write to Mama. She will be excessively angry, but she will hardly bestir herself from Paris.”

“I am willing to have her stay with us, Rebecca, but she is a regular hoyden and is like to be a burden to you. Can you manage her?”

“She is my sister,” Rebecca replied stiffly.

“That is little to the case. You are young yourself to have charge of her, and Miss Turnpeck, I can see, will be useless,” he remarked dryly.

Rebecca said softly, “I can manage.”

“I hope you can. And, Rebecca,” he said seriously, “you are to come to me with any problems.” When she looked skeptical he continued, “Do not imagine that I am an ogre. You are not in the habit of trusting in me, but I am your husband and you should learn to accept my protection, for it will be freely given always, no matter what problems we may have.”

An agony of desolation swept through Rebecca, who felt her loneliness sharply at that moment, but she replied evenly, “Thank you, Jason. I shall remember.”

Clayborne regarded her sad, downturned face. Gently he lifted her chin and said softly, “Please trust me, Rebecca.” He stood there hesitantly for a moment, but merely continued, “I shall write to your parents and your Aunt Adeline apprising them of the situation.” Then he touched her cheek and quickly left her.

Wonderingly, she raised a hand to the spot where he had touched her cheek. It was a gesture he had occasionally used before their marriage, and in those days she had taken it as a sign of affection. Why had he done it now? Although he was unbending a bit in public, he continued formal in any private encounter. She sighed and shook her head. No doubt he felt some sympathy for her because of Mary’s advent, and the problems it was likely to generate.

Dinner was less than enjoyable that evening, with Miss Turnpeck flushed and scolding, Mary pale and quiet. Clayborne put an end to the scolding by pointedly taking over the conversation himself. There was no hint of reproof in his manner as he directed his remarks kindly to each of the ladies in turn. But Meg continued to look upset and Rebecca could not keep her attention on what her husband was saying. Everyone was delighted to escape early to their rooms, and it was only then that Rebecca remembered the drawing of the maze.

In the chaos of Mary’s arrival she must have put it down somewhere, for she could not find it in her reticule or anywhere in her room. She drew a wrapper on over her night dress, took up her candle and walked barefoot to the drawing room. The house was quiet, the servants having retired after the houseparty was settled for the night.

In the drawing room Rebecca searched on the tables and under the chairs, finally locating the drawing crushed under a cushion. Plumping up the cushion, she sat down to study the sketch, and noted the delicate female hand with curlicues of embellishment. She was about to put it away when she noticed a line at the bottom which read, “Next time you shall surely find me, Jason.” It was signed Alexis.

Rebecca grinned, and wondered if he had indeed found her the next time. Only one woman of her acquaintance had the Christian name of Alexis, and that was Lady Hillston. Rebecca had met that dashing young matron during her season last year and she chuckled out loud to picture the straight-laced Clayborne with her.

“Up to some devilment, Rebecca?” Clayborne asked from the doorway, startling her.

“No. It is just this old maze drawing. I found the note amusing,” she laughed, her eyes dancing in the candlelight, as she held it out to him.

When Clayborne had read the note, which he had long since forgotten, he did not share her amusement. In fact, he made to put the drawing in his pocket, thought better of it, and handed it back to her without a word. His face was unreadable in the candlelight, and Rebecca said lightly, “I shall make a copy of it and return it to your study.”

“That will not be necessary. Shall Mary go with you to Hampton Court?”

“Yes, if you are agreeable. I am sure it would cheer her, and you must have noticed that all the animadversions she has borne have quite depressed her spirits.”

“If they have depressed her willfulness, we will be in luck. But I am not against her going. No doubt she will get in less trouble accompanying us than staying home.”

“You come, too?” she asked, surprised.

“I think it would be wise. Would you rather I did not?” He watched her closely in the candlelight.

“No, I think I shall be rather relieved to have you with us,” she admitted.

He nodded and said only, “I will see you to your room.”

* * * *

When the party had assembled for Hampton Court there was some discussion as to the driving arrangements. Finally it was decided that Captain Hardcastle, since he was unable to drive with his broken arm, would share the carriage with Meg and Miss Turnpeck, while Clayborne would take Mary and Captain Gray would take Rebecca, in their curricles. As Meg would be just as happy to be nowhere near a horse, this arrangement satisfied everyone, except perhaps Mary, who was still worried about Clayborne’s reaction to her arrival.

“I am sorry to have caused you such inconvenience by arriving as I did,” Mary ventured timidly as they drove off.

“There is no question of inconvenience, Mary. My concern was more for your safety and reputation, but let us not speak of that any more. I gather you are interested in driving. When we reach open road I have a mind to let you try these bays of mine if you wish to.” He smiled down at her.

Mary’s face was transfigured with joy. “You cannot mean it!”

“Why, have you never driven a pair before? I made sure you must have.”

“And so I have, but never such prime ones as these. I may not be able to manage them,” she confessed, “for I have only driven round Farthington Hall in the phaeton with an old pair, and the stable lad had to be much coaxed to allow that. I waited until the coachman had taken Miss Turnpeck and my sister into Salisbury, you know. They don’t expect me to accompany them since I have no interest in all their sashes and bonnets,” she explained scornfully.

“I see,” he said seriously, repressing a smile. “Here, I shall show you how to hold the ribbons, and once I have the edge off them you shall have a try.”

Knowing him to be an excellent whip, Mary paid close attention. Clayborne found her an apt pupil and a disarming child, and was much inclined to be more favorably disposed toward her, though he noted that she was more likely to be occupied by pastimes such as riding and driving than those amusements her sisters found enjoyable. She spoke of balls with loathing, and of the theatre as past enduring. It would be no easy matter to keep her busy and out of mischief in the city, he thought wryly.

Captain Gray, undoubtedly encouraged by the sight of Clayborne allowing Mary to handle the ribbons, offered to instruct Rebecca. Since she had never driven even one horse, a pair seemed overmuch, but she was willing to try. After she had nearly ditched them twice, which caused more laughter then alarm, the captain suggested that she desist for the day, and they drove along companionably to Hampton Court.

Upon their arrival Captain Hardcastle emerged from the carriage with a stunned expression on his face, and none of the curricle riders had the least doubt that Miss Turnpeck had once again taken an opportunity to expound on the intricacies of history commonly associated with this famous landmark. After they had made a tour of the palace, Rebecca and Meg, with due gravity, challenged the captains to see who could reach the center of the maze first, and the four set off immediately, while Clayborne proceeded more leisurely with Mary and Miss Turnpeck. They could hear the laughter ahead of them, and calls back and forth for a while, but soon these were rather distant.

Growing impatient with the pace kept by Miss Turnpeck, who was actually hurrying more than she thought strictly necessary, her wispy gray hair becoming disordered, Mary led the way, delighted with the blind alleys which caused them to retrace their steps. Clayborne, perhaps wishing to keep Miss Turnpeck out of breath, had set an ambitious pace, but took pity on her and slowed his steps. Soon Mary was out of sight, and when next they came upon her she was returning in the company of Captain Hardcastle.

“He’s lost the lot of them,” she giggled, throwing him a wicked look. “And I do not think we shall ever reach the center.”

“Of course we shall. Take pity on a wounded soldier, ma’am. Come, we shall find it together. I’m certain that it must be very close now.” Placing her hand ceremoniously on his uninjured arm, they strolled off together. Clayborne and Miss Turnpeck listened to her artless chatter (she recounted her driving lesson), and followed close behind. They could hear other voices now, and soon came upon the rest of their party.