Lord Clayborne's Fancy (2 page)

“Yes, I would have expected that,” the governess stated triumphantly with a sage nod of her head. “And you are doubtless familiar with posting houses all over the country, but I must confess that I have seldom traveled myself. We stayed last night at an unexceptionable inn where I assure you that the sheets were properly aired, as I am very particular, but not so fussy, I hope, as to take along my own sheets as I have heard of others doing. Our meal was not perhaps as tasty as we get at the Hall, but then we are fortunate at home. I should not complain, even if the fricasée was the least bit salty and the veal a bit overdone. Meg will tell you that the ragout disagreed with her, but I myself was not in the least discomforted by it.”

Meg had no intention of telling anyone that the ragout had disagreed with her, of course, but by this time Rebecca was having difficulty maintaining a straight face and she urged her guests into the house. Although Lord Clayborne had received all Miss Turnpeck’s information with every appearance of great interest, his sincerity was placed in doubt by the brow he lifted to the two sisters. “I am sure,” he ventured during a slight pause, “that Meg has found your companionship on the journey most welcome. You must wish, though, to go to your room to freshen up from your travels.”

Miss Turnpeck, in a swirl of wraps despite the June heat, fluttered into the Tudor half-timbered residence which had been the home of the Barons Clayborne for several centuries. “What remarkable paneling! Such enormous beams! No, no, I could not think of resting until I have seen Meg situated. There is always a delightfully homey feeling about a Tudor building, do you not agree, Lord Clayborne?” she chirped, and barely waiting for an answer, rushed on, “Meg, dear, you must let me see you settled in your room. My, what a fine hall this is, and that huge fireplace. You could roast an ox. And, Meg, I have just been wondering, did you remember to bring your music for the pianoforte?”

Never stopping for a breath, but frequently pausing to gaze in rapt wonder at the finely carved screens or the magnificent oak staircase, she passed like a whirlwind, shepherding Meg before her. With a despairing glance at her sister, Meg allowed herself to be driven inexorably onward. It was with some difficulty and fully a half hour later that the two young ladies shut the door behind Miss Turnpeck’s retreating form, hearing her protest, “No, no, the maid shall show me my way. No need for you to bother.”

“I had forgotten,” Rebecca said mournfully, “how very talkative is your Miss Turnpeck.”

“Had you? Well, I have not and I mean to have my turn now, if you please,” she beseeched.

“Of course, goose. You have much to tell me of your London season, no doubt.”

“Becka, it was above anything great! You didn’t tell me there were so many balls, and suppers, and card parties and breakfasts, and operas, and the theatre. Mama and I were invited everywhere, and must have met hundreds of fashionable people. And my clothes, everything the first stare! Mama insisted I wait until we got to London before she would consent to purchase so much as a fan for me, for she knew of the most expert modiste that I must go to. Well, you shall see from some of the things I have brought with me, but I did not think that you were so formal here in the country. It must be much as at Farthington Hall, so I have not brought the lot.”

“Thank heaven,” Rebecca murmured soulfully and grinned at her sister.

“Oh, you are quizzing me,” Meg laughed. “But we did not go about town at all until the new clothes had arrived, and then I felt quite the thing. Do you know I had six new reticules and at least a dozen fans?”

“I cannot imagine how you managed with such a paltry few.”

“I confess I found it difficult to use all of them. I had to take particular care to hide each one away after I used it so that the next would have a showing, for I was sure Mama would notice if I forgot any of them. And some I did not like above half. But enough of that. I have so many messages to give you. Mama sent her best, and Papa, of course, before they left. They will be in Paris for a month or more and may stop to visit you when they return. Mary left a sen’night ago to visit Aunt Adeline in Bath because she is of an age with our cousin Sally, you know. Aunt Adeline did not invite me at all, but I had much rather come to you anyway.”

“I hope Mary will enjoy herself. Was Mama pleased with your success in London?” Rebecca asked.

“Well, she would, of course, have been more pleased to find me married by now. After all, there is still Mary to bring out next year, and Mama feels a bit put about with me that she might have the both of us next season,” Meg said, eyes twinkling.

“But she may not? What is this, Meg? Are you planning to enter a nunnery?” her sister quizzed.

“Now, Becka, it is no such thing, you may be sure! There is nothing settled as yet, you understand, but dear Will Travers has been most particular in his attentions. He arrived in London soon after we did, you know, and oh, Becka, he seemed so different in town. His manners were so gentleman-like, and his dress so distinguished. Why, even poor Brummell would not have had the least objection to him.”

“I find it difficult to picture him in other than buckskins. No, no, don’t scold me. I am only funning. I shall have to meet this budding paragon. My own recollections are otherwise. Will joining us on our picnics and rides in the country. But then we have not seen him for some time now. Has he been up to Cambridge?”

“Yes, but he is down now and intends to devote his time to his estate. I thought at first Mama would not care for his attentions to me, but she has been most accommodating. I think she is in the way of finding him an eligible suitor.”

“Does his mother approved of the connection?”

“Mrs. Travers came to town in early May for a spell and she was very gracious to me. I am thinking things are in a way to being settled. Certainly Will seems to think so,” she added with a rosy blush.

“I am so happy for you.” Rebecca kissed her sister’s cheek and hugged her. “It sounds a splendid match to me.”

“Will has not approached Papa yet, as he wished to sort out the estate affairs first. When his papa died last year he was still at Cambridge and he has yet to involve himself in the business matters attached,” Meg said, knowing it was not necessary for her to explain to her sister that Mr. Travers, more interested in his books than in his estate, had no doubt left the estate business in rather a shambles, which it would take the inexperienced young man some time to right. “Of course, Mary will have it that I could not bring him up to scratch, but it is no such thing,” Meg declared indignantly.

“Pay no attention to Mary. She was only teasing you, I’m sure.”

Meg was inclined to be cross with Mary for not taking her romance seriously, but as she knew her youngest sister’s propensity for outlandish behavior and an unruly tongue, she decided to dismiss the matter, knowing full well it would do her no good to dwell on it.

 “That reminds me,” she exclaimed suddenly. “I met your friend Constance Exton in town and she asked especially to be remembered to you. She has gone with her family to Brighton for the summer and says she will write you in hopes that you will invite her to Gray Oaks for a few days so that she may have some peace.”

Rebecca laughed. “Her mama is so insistent on pushing Constance at every marriageable man that Constance is quite in despair. I shall look forward to having her visit.”

“I met your darling Captain Gray at Almack’s and he never stopped talking of you. And I saw him in the park one day. He looks so handsome in his uniform—the 10th Hussars is it?—with his funny moustache and sideburns.” Meg paused before she burst out, “And I saw Thomas a few days before I left home. He asked of you and sent his regards. His wife has just given him a son and both are well.” Meg, played with the fringe of her shawl and kept her eyes on her lap. “He seems to have settled down these last months.”

“I imagine married life suits him, and I’m pleased they have a healthy boy. Now I must leave you to rest for a while. Join me in the Blue Saloon when you’re ready.” Rebecca got up abruptly, then hesitated at her sister’s anxious look. Taking Meg’s hand she said kindly, “You know, it is perfectly all right to talk of him. I no longer retain a tendre for Thomas and am happy to hear that all is well with him. Now, have a rest and we will talk more later.”

Chapter Two

It was perfectly true, as Lady Clayborne had said, that she no longer retained a tendre for Thomas Burns. He was one of the few young men she had met at Farthington Hall and his obvious admiration of her had led to a puppy-like devotion on her part. But she had soon found herself consoling him with the necessity of his marrying a young lady of fortune. The irony of it had not perhaps amused her at the time, for she had striven to be his friend at no small cost to herself. It had left her with a guardedness about giving away her heart again, though, and since she was not by nature inclined to light dalliance, her London season had not particularly recommended itself to her. She had enjoyed Captain Gray’s amusing stories and lighthearted escort, but she thought of him as a brother.

Lady Farthington, disturbed at seeing her second daughter leaning toward bookishness and not at all taken up with the season she was providing at such immoderate expense, eyed Clayborne enthusiastically. She was impressed with his handsome face and fine figure, to say nothing of his title and wealth. It never occurred to her that such a gentleman would tolerate, and even encourage, her daughter in her wandering pursuit of knowledge, but such seemed to be the case, for he escorted Rebecca to several lectures which her mother would have preferred to miss had her chaperonage not been necessary.

Not a particularly patient person nor a loving mother, Lady Farthington had bluntly pointed out to Rebecca that she still had her two sisters to find eligible matches for, that Clayborne must be considered one of the few gentlemen who would permit her bookishness, and that it was unlikely that Rebecca would find such another suitor once she returned to the country. She intimated to her daughter that she did not intend, with such an ungrateful child, to repeat the experience of another London season, for her sister Meg was to be brought out the next year.

While aware of the pressure brought to bear on her, Rebecca understood the reasonableness of her mother’s arguments. She was not averse to Clayborne’s suit, as she was fond of him and he was unfailingly kind to her, treating her as a person of excellent understanding; there were no other men of her acquaintance, including Thomas, who could regard a woman as being possessed of any real intelligence. The idea that she and Clayborne should admirably suit took possession of her mind, and since she was determined that her head should rule her heart in this matter, she accepted him.

Lady Farthington was in ecstasies. She was perfectly willing to ignore the rumor of Clayborne’s involvement with Lady Hillston. Her daughter, never much interested in the on dits, would not likely have heard of this and she made no attempt to enlighten Rebecca. In fact, she had made little attempt to enlighten her daughter on any aspect of her contemplated married life.

“Your husband will, of course, expect you to perform your wifely duties,” Lady Farthington intoned, with a reminiscent shudder. “It is a wife’s obligation to accommodate her husband whenever he wishes her, and not to question his behavior outside the home. You are to behave always with propriety and never give your husband cause for complaint. Clayborne will wish an heir as promptly as possible to ensure the succession. I wish you better luck than I had,” her mother had commented with cold humor. Sir Rupert had never allowed her to forget that she had provided him with no son.

“Yes, Mama, I shall endeavor to please Lord Clayborne,” Rebecca had replied optimistically. Confident in her ability to run a household and how to conduct herself socially, she had sought no further information. For a country-bred young lady she was rather naive, having taken more interest in the library than the propagation of the estate animals. Miss Turnpeck had instilled in her four charges the sum total of her experience of marriage, which was of course nonexistent.

Rebecca’s own wedding night, therefore, had been something of a surprise to her, and it had turned into a nightmare. Since the only kiss Rebecca had received from a man had been from Thomas, and that fleeting rather than passionate, she had had no experience of desire, and she was pleasantly indoctrinated. Clayborne had entered her bedchamber to find her nervously twisting a lock of her black hair about her finger, unable to meet his gaze.

“You look enchanting, my dear,” he said gently as he climbed in beside her and took her cold hand in his. “Don’t be alarmed. I shall take the greatest care of you. Only trust me, little one.” Tenderly he had kissed her hand, and then her lips as she turned her face to him. With patience he had slowly won her confidence, and kindled her own desire, overcoming her natural embarrassment and fear. Consequently it was with no little astonishment that she found herself pulled very urgently out of bed after their marriage had been consummated, and made to stand shivering by the bed while he lit a candle. Clayborne jerked back the covers and pointed to the bed.

“Look at it!” he commanded harshly.

“But... I don’t see anything,” she quavered.

“Exactly!” he roared, and stomped unceremoniously from the room.

Rebecca, left frightened and confused, had no idea what was expected of her now. At length, after inspecting the bed for some time without enlightenment, she climbed back in, shivering and weeping, and eventually cried herself to sleep.

Afraid to face her husband, but even more determined to find some solution to the previous night’s startling events, Rebecca descended warily to the breakfast parlor the next morning. Although she had felt sure Clayborne did not love her when she married him, and she had held him only in fond respect, the very harshness of his countenance and the coldness of his eyes when she met him put her on her guard. “Good morning, Jason.”

He rose formally at her entrance and remained standing until Griggs had seated her, but he said nothing. The length of the breakfast table separated them, and she watched with trepidation as Clayborne indicated to the butler that they would serve themselves from the sideboard, and that Griggs would not be needed further. When he had left them alone, Clayborne asked coldly, “Do you wish eggs and kippers?”