Lord Clayborne's Fancy (28 page)

“No, even Eustace Lawton would hesitate to do her harm there, but he would have the authority to drag her home.”

“Yes, but by that time I can be summoned. You must trust me in this,” he said calmly, bending the penetrating brown eyes on her.

“Of course I do,” she said, meeting his gaze steadily. “I always have.”

Clayborne, painfully aware that it was true, wished to speak of his shame in not having believed in her, but Constance’s presence forestalled him. The conversation turned away from Elvira to a discussion of London and whom he had met there.

“Uncle Henry sent his fond regards. He’s home from Egypt due to the gout, but he seems in plump currant now. Lady Stonebridge asked to be remembered to you, also. On the other hand, your parents, being the only ones who know that you are not with me, were provoked with the two of us. You may expect a scathing letter from your mother any day, no doubt.”

“I am sure that Mama is only concerned with the scandal. She is so looking forward to presenting Mary in the spring, and she will look on this as a setback,” Rebecca replied.

“She does. And when the news spreads to London, as it eventually shall, of course, I have no doubt she will drag your papa off to Farthington Hall without delay.”

“Where Mary will inform her that she couldn’t care less for a London season, as she has already expressed to me in a letter I received a few days ago. In fact, she begged to come and stay with us here.”

“From past experience I should look for her on your doorstep any day,” Clayborne said with a grin.

“You do not really believe that, do you?” Constance asked, aghast.

“Well, she did run away from my aunt in Bath to join us in London,” Rebecca admitted, “but she does not know where we are, as the letter came through Mr. Darcy.”

“I doubt that would stop her,” Clayborne commented dryly.

“No, perhaps not,” Rebecca mused, “for Mary is very resourceful. However, if Mama is soon at Farthington Hall, she shall put a stop to any such plans.”

Clayborne stayed to dinner and the young women provided some music afterwards, but it had been an exhausting day and Clayborne soon excused himself, taking Rebecca’s letter for Elvira with him.

Constance made sure that Rebecca was settled for the night before she adjourned to her own room, where she lay awake for some time, considering the events of the day and trying to push from her mind the thought that tomorrow they would have been in the cottage for a month.

Chapter Twenty

Rebecca was startled the next morning to find Constance dressed in her prettiest outfit, a rose-colored morning dress trimmed with white loops. Of course, Rebecca herself had discarded the older gown Harpert had laid out for her and had chosen instead to don a pale green walking dress whose high collar framed her face. It had been included in her trousseau but had not yet been worn.

The same young lad was seated at the corner of the lane when they went out to the shops, but they were sure it was an arrangement of Clayborne’s and they could only be grateful for his care of them.

After purchasing some lengths of ribbon and thread, as well as meat and vegetables from Harpert’s list, the young ladies strolled home down the sunny lane past other stone cottages, the flowers fragrant in the summer morning. Constance was the first to spot the carriage before their door and a blush of pleasure suffused her face. Rebecca took one look at the carriage she had ridden in for several days and then looked at Constance, saying with a sigh, “I have been blind indeed, for I thought he was interested in Mary. Why did you say nothing, Constance?”

“There is nothing decided as yet,” she replied, blushing more fiercely.

“Well, come, it is time there was. I shall stay only to greet him and then leave you alone,” Rebecca said, grinning gleefully at her friend. “And your mama does not even know him!”

When Rebecca had greeted Mott enthusiastically and seen him seated near Constance, she excused herself on an imaginary errand. He did not reseat himself after rising for her exit, but instead wandered about the room for a few moments, admiring the improvements they had made. Constance sat with her hands folded in her lap while her eyes followed him.

“I have been to see your brother,” Mott finally announced abruptly.

“How is Charles?”

“He is well and sent his fondest regards to you. I have a letter from him somewhere, but I cannot remember precisely where I put it.”

“I am sure it will turn up. His wife and children are well?”

“Oh, yes, all are fine. Did I forget to say so?” he asked distractedly.

“I was sure you would remember eventually,” Constance teased him.

“You’re laughing at me.” He grinned. “I don’t know why this should be so difficult I asked your brother for his leave to pay my addresses to you.” He stopped expectantly.

“And what did Charles say?” Constance prompted.

“Oh, well, as to that, he said you were your own mistress and should make up your own mind on the matter. But he did give us his blessing, should you decide to have me. I know I may not be everything you look for in a husband, and I have lived secluded for a very long time. There is little George, too. As you know, he is a handful and forever where you do not precisely wish him to be.”

“I am very fond of George,” Constance admitted, her eyes laughing up at him.

“Constance, you are trying to make this harder for me,” Mott accused. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, for I love you dearly.”

“Now that was quite an admirable declaration,” Constance mused. “You know, I am very  tempted... Yes, I shall accept you.”

Mott pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. “And are you a little fond of me, too?” he asked, eyeing her exasperatedly.

“Yes, Gregory, I love you,” she replied, and returned his kiss as ardently as he could have hoped.

When they finally seated themselves on the sofa, holding hands and smiling idiotically at each other, Mott asked, “Can we be married soon? Now that I have found you I am anxious to take you home with me as soon as may be.”

“And I wish to go with you, but there are any number of things to consider. I shall have to bring you up to date on our... ah... activities this last month.” It took some time to do so, and Mott watched her with fascination as she unfolded the lengthy tale of Elvira and her wicked uncle.

“Clayborne is here?” he asked, when she had finished.

“He is gone to Broadway this morning, but I expect he shall be back soon. So you see, Gregory, there are several matters to be settled before I may be wed. I do not like to leave Rebecca here alone, either, but I know she would be very put out with me if I were to delay the wedding on her account. She is the most generous of friends.”

“She cannot reach an understanding with Clayborne? You know, he is an excellent fellow, and she is an admirable woman. They are so perfectly suited that I cannot feel their separation is at all right.”

“I know,” Constance sighed. “I cannot understand it, for I feel sure they are fond of each other. But she will not speak of it, and I do not wish to interfere.”

“I know. I tried to speak with Clayborne and he intimated that they were both at fault, but he would brook no meddling. Like to snapped my nose off when I pursued the matter.”

“Well, they shall have to work it out for themselves. Let us tell Rebecca our news!”

* * * *

Clayborne found his trip to Broadway well worthwhile. The young man assisting him in his inquiries had immediately contacted the former estate manager for Campden Manor and had obtained enough information from him to present a case to the local magistrate, but Clayborne instructed him to delay this until he had had a chance to speak with Mr. Lawton himself. As he approached Campden Manor late in the afternoon, Clayborne felt fortunate indeed to meet with his groom riding swiftly to fetch him, for Mr. Lawton had just returned. The groom was thanked, and, much to his chagrin, informed that he might return to the inn. He rode off muttering, “Keeps all the sport for hisself, he does.”

Without hesitation Clayborne drove his curricle straight through the gates and up to the manor house. He handed the reins to the startled groom who sauntered forth from the stable, and ascended to the front door. He was greeted, though that might be an exaggeration, by the churlish housekeeper, who assured him that Mr. Lawton would be unable to see him. He assured her in turn that Mr. Lawton could and would see him, for he had no intention of leaving until he had spoken with the man.

“Wait here,” she grumbled and shut the door, leaving him standing on the doorstep. Already in disgrace with her employer, who had returned to find Elvira was no longer locked in her room and was in fact not in the house at all, she shuffled off to Lawton’s study. He had threatened to dismiss the housekeeper should she displease him again and she had no doubt that this latest arrival would displease him exceedingly.

“There be a London swell at the door insisting on seeing you, sir. Says he’ll not leave ‘til he’s done so. I told him, I did, that you wasn’t receiving, but him not likely to listen to the likes of me!”

“Send him away. I’ll see no one,” Lawton grunted.

“I’ll tell him, but I doubt it will do any good,” she replied darkly, and left to convey the message to Clayborne.

It did no good at all, of course, for Clayborne was not used to be left kicking his heels, and he merely set the housekeeper aside and entered the hall. While she stood loudly declaiming his manners, Clayborne patiently opened each door off the hall to find his quarry.

Lawton would have had to be deaf not to have heard the commotion, and he angrily slammed out of the study and stood confronting his visitor.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” he screamed. “Get out of my house!”

“Not until I have had a word with you, in private,” Clayborne said coldly.

“Well, you shan’t, so get out,” Lawton cried, his face suffused with an angry red.

“Perhaps it would interest you to know that my name is Clayborne,” his visitor suggested grimly.

Lawton backed away from him saying, “So what of it? I have nothing to say to you.”

“But I have a great deal to say to you,” Clayborne replied softly, advancing toward the man, who edged his way into the study. Clayborne followed him and shut the door in the astonished housekeeper’s face. “You tried to force your attentions on my wife.”

“I did no such thing! The jade encouraged me,” he smirked, but not for long, as Clayborne put to use the skills he had been acquiring at Jackson’s Boxing Saloon. Lawton picked himself up from the floor and advanced menacingly on his adversary. He had very little form, but his strength was considerable. Clayborne dodged the low blow aimed at him, and planted a hit to the jaw which sank Lawton to the floor again. “I think you should apologize for your rudeness,” Clayborne commented, watching the other man pick himself up again.

If the truth be known, it gave Clayborne considerable pleasure that Lawton was not yet ready to apologize. Although Elvira’s uncle had engaged in many brawls with men unequal to his powerful right, the man had not met the likes of his opponent before. Clayborne calmly evaded the punishing right and the kick aimed at his groin and knocked Lawton down three more times before the latter was willing to make a grudging apology. Since it was unlikely that he had ever apologized in his adult life, it was not surprising that the apology was not everything expected by Clayborne. Once again Lawton found himself on the floor, this time with a bloody nose, which he protested had been broken.

“Perhaps it would be easier if I were to frame a suitable apology for you to repeat,” Clayborne suggested quietly. “I think I might be willing to accept your saying, ‘My apologies to you and Lady Clayborne for my disgusting and cowardly behavior and for my disparaging references to that good lady.’”

Lawton’s puffing right eye and bleeding nose notwithstanding, he had a difficult time repeating the sentence Clayborne proposed, and he had to be prompted several times before he completed the task. “Now we shall turn to other matters,” Clayborne said composedly, as he seated himself comfortably and watched his host drop dejectedly into another chair.

“My wife wrote me some days ago that she was concerned about your mistreatment of your ward,” Clayborne began conversationally. “She also intimated that you were most likely misappropriating your ward’s estate.” He noted that Lawton paled considerably but maintained a belligerent expression. “I took the liberty of looking into these matters and have found that my wife was correct on both heads.”

“Much you could do about it even were it true,” Lawton sneered.

“True, there is a good deal I can do about it,” Clayborne mockingly agreed. “I came here today to settle the first matter with you, as you will understand, privately. I have not met your niece as yet, but I am assured by my wife that she is a proud girl and would not enjoy the scandal that a public trial of her uncle would create. However, as she is a minor she can have no say in the matter. Nevertheless, I am here to inform you that if you yourself wish to avoid imprisonment, you had best flee the country today, for tomorrow the necessary information will be laid with the local magistrate, who cannot fail to act on it. That is all I have to say. Good-day,” Clayborne said and strode from the room, leaving Lawton open-mouthed and looking sick in his chair.

Lawton screamed after his departing guest, “You’re lying! You cannot prove a thing!” But he knew that Clayborne was not bluffing. Greedy as he was, he had not been clever enough to cover his tracks. His only hope had ever been to tame his niece to the point where she would never question his management of her estate, and marry her to a man of his choice before she came of age. But Lawton had been unable to break Elvira’s spirit so far and now there was nothing left for him to do but take Clayborne’s advice. His body ached as he lifted himself out of the chair to prepare for the journey.

* * * *

When Elvira had heard hoofbeats approaching the manor she had slipped down the back stairs and out the door, waiting in the shrubbery until her uncle was in the house. Avoiding the stable, she walked the mile to the vicarage, where she was kindly invited to take tea with Miss Andrews. The vicar was from home at the time, but returned shortly to find her there.