The Earl Next Door (12 page)

‘A thousand apologies,’ said Henri. ‘I was just – ’ow you say? –
overjoyed
to see Miss Marianne safely ’ome again.’

‘I’ve only been down to the sea shore,’ said Marianne, taking off her damp cloak and hanging it on a chair in front of the fire.

‘And so I told him. But would he listen? He was all for me sending Tom out after you. As if Tom didn’t have enough to do!’

‘Even so,’ said Henri stubbornly, ‘you ’ave been gone a long time, Miss Marianne. I worry!’

‘Well, here I am, and in one piece,’ said Marianne, touched at Henri’s concern. Ever since he had discovered that her papa kept to his room he had seemed to take on the rôle of her protector, looking after her and trying to make life easier for her.

‘Now you are back, the butcher’s been pressing for his bill to be paid,’ said Trudie. ‘I don’t like to worry you but –’

‘No. You’re quite right to mention it, Trudie. I’ll deal with it at once.’

‘
Non
. Not until you ’ave ’ad something to eat. You are cold. Sit ’ere, and Henri will pour you some good ’ot soup.’

He was as good as his word, and placed a steaming hot bowl of soup in front of Marianne. She ate it gratefully, and the appetising bread that went with it, thinking again how fortunate they had been to find Henri. It had been a piece of good fortune for all concerned.

‘How is your leg today?’ she asked, when she pushed the empty bowl away.

Henri pulled a face. ‘It gives me no trouble, but to walk far –
non
, it is not possible.’

‘Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to suggest you made the trip to
London
,’ said Marianne, adding teasingly, ‘I am beginning to think we will not be able to part with you when your leg finally mends.’

‘Ah!’ Henri gave a satisfied sigh. ‘The good chef, ’e is ’ard to replace,
non
?
Mademoiselle
, you make me proud.’

Marianne laughed and then, much refreshed, set about seeing to the accounts. But as she did so, Lord Ravensford was never far from her mind. What had been the meaning of his behaviour in the cave: half predatory, half protective?  And what had he meant to say when he had stopped himself half way through the sentence: If I was trying to seduce you, you’d already be . . . ?

She didn’t know. But she had a feeling it would be exhilarating as well as dangerous to find out.

The weather turned colder overnight. Frost sparkled from the trees and ice glinted in the ditches. Marianne, having played her morning game of chess with her Papa, was busily cleaning the morning-room when she saw Jem Cosgrove riding up to the house. Hastily she took off her apron – although the neighbours knew the Travis's means were straitened, they did not know that Marianne often helped out with the cleaning – and ran upstairs, changing out of her plain woollen dress and into something more suitable for receiving guests.

‘A good thing you saw him coming, Miss Marianne,’ said Trudie, fastening the wide green sash that girdled Marianne’s trim waist and giving a last brush to the glossy ringlets that fell down her back. ‘It’s bad enough for the neighbours to see you go visiting in a horse and trap; you’ll never hold your head up again if they know you do the dusting as well.’

Slipping her feet into a pair of satin slippers – a dark green, to match the colour of her dress – Marianne ran downstairs, and was sitting elegantly on the
chaise longue
in the drawing-room when Jem was shown in, just as though she had been sitting there all morning, with nothing better to do than to browse through the latest edition of
The Lady’s Magazine
.

‘Raw weather!’ Jem greeted her cheerfully as he came stamping and blowing into the drawing-room. ‘Cold enough to . . .’ His face fell, as he remembered that he was in a lady’s drawing-room and not a gentleman’s club. ‘That is to say, cold enough to make a man feel cold,’ he ended rather lamely.

Marianne smiled. Jem, though good-hearted, had never had a way with words. ‘Won’t you sit down?’ she asked, indicating the sofa.

‘Yes. Rather. Raw weather,’ he said again. He looked round the room once he had planted himself on the sofa. ‘Trudie not about?’ he said.

Marianne shook her head. Trudie usually joined her when she had visitors, sitting and sewing discreetly in the background, but Jem was such an old family friend that he was not likely to do Marianne or her reputation any harm. Even so, Marianne knew that Trudie would join them just as soon as she had finished her present chore.

‘Hem.’ Jem went bright red and looked at the wall. ‘I say, Marianne,’ he broke out a moment later, ‘you shouldn’t have to be doing all this.’

‘All what?’ asked Marianne, wondering whether Jem could have seen her dusting as he approached the house.

But Jem, obviously embarrassed, was being even less coherent than usual. ‘All this,’ he said vaguely. ‘At least, that’s what m’mother says. And I agree,’ he added hastily.

Marianne, usually able to follow Jem’s somewhat incoherent speeches, was mystified.

‘Looking after everything. Running the whole show,’ he explained suddenly. ‘Need a man to do that kind of thing. Two estates. Joining one another. Join at Nether Field. At the corners. Can’t say they don’t. May not join anywhere else, but join at Nether Field. Oh yes. So what d’you think?’

He looked at her hopefully.

Marianne was at a loss. Then the light dawned. 'You’re offering me Bates,’ she said. She was touched. Bates was the Cosgrove estate manager, and Jem, it seemed, had been sent to offer her his services.

‘Bates? Good God. Can’t mean to say you’d marry Bates?’ asked Jem, amazed.

‘Marry . . . ?’ asked Marianne, startled.

‘Not the thing,’ said Jem, shaking his head. ‘Not the thing at all. Can’t marry Bates, Marianne. Good man, I’ll grant you.  One of the best. But got a wife. And children. Any number of ‘em. Ten, there were, at the last count. And still rising.’

Marianne smiled broadly. ‘I wasn’t thinking of marrying him. I thought you were offering me his services to help me manage the estate!’

‘Oh!’ Jem slapped his thigh and roared with laughter. ‘You thought m’father meant to share Bates! Lord, no, Marianne! M’father would never share Bates.’ He suddenly sobered. ‘Don’t mean “Marianne”. Mustn’t call you “Marianne”. Got to call you Miss Travis. M’mother says so. M’mother’s never wrong. Though why in Hades I should call you Miss Travis when I’ve known you since forever’s beyond me. Still, better do what m’mother says.’

He paused, obviously having lost the thread of his conversation.

Marianne prompted him kindly. ‘You said your father doesn’t want to share Bates?’

‘No, Marianne – Miss Travis – dash it, Marianne – that’s right. M’father don’t want to share Bates. He wants to share me. Well, not share me exactly . . . Lord, I’m making a mull of this,’ said Jem, tugging at his cravat. ‘Jennifer said I would. Looks like she’s right. Damn fine girl Jennifer. Oh! dash it! Didn’t mean to say damn! Told me to go down on one knee or some such thing. Don’t half like it. Look a fool. But the ladies like it.’ And to Marianne’s amusement he knelt down in front of her.

‘Oh, don’t Jem,’ she said, much to his relief. ‘Do get up, I beg of you. I’m very fond of you Jem, you know that, but if you mean to ask me to marry you I’m afraid I must refuse.’

‘Thought you would,’ said Jem, gratefully getting up off his knees. ‘Not dashing like Ravensford. Don’t know how to sweep a girl off her feet.’

‘Oh, Jem it isn’t that,’ said Marianne, whilst being uncomfortably aware that his words held far more than a grain of truth. ‘It’s just that we have been such good friends for so many years that it would be a shame to spoil our friendship. I like you very much, Jem, but I can’t marry you. We just wouldn’t suit.’

‘Ah well, can’t say I haven’t tried,’ he said philosophically. ‘Pity, though, Marianne. Devilish pretty girl, you know.’

‘You’ll find another devilish pretty girl, Jem. One who can love you in a way I can’t.’

‘Might have something there,’ said Jem, whose feelings, whilst honest, did not run deep. ‘Might find one at Ravensford’s do.’

Marianne looked at him enquiringly.

‘Got an ice yacht,’ Jem explained.

‘Who has?’ Marianne asked, finding it difficult, as usual, to follow Jem’s rambling speech.

‘Lord Ravensford. Having a party. Sail the ice yacht on the lake. Frozen,’ he explained helpfully. ‘Got the invitation this morning. Reminds me. Got one for you.’ He pulled a crumpled card out of his pocket and handed it to her. ‘Servant came round with them. Said I’d bring yours. Coming here anyway. Save the man a trip.’

‘Yes. Thank you.’ She turned the card thoughtfully between her fingers. ‘However, I’m not sure I shall be able to go.’ Her feelings for Lord Ravensford were becoming deeper and more difficult to control, and she wasn’t sure it was wise to see any more of him than was necessary, however tempting it might be.

Jem’s face fell. ‘Got to,’ he said. ‘M’family’ll be there. Got to tell ’em I didn’t make a mull of it. Otherwise m’mother’ll tell me to offer for you again.’

‘Oh dear, Jem, are you sure? I’m not a good match, you know. I don’t have any dowry to speak of. Can’t you persuade her it’s better this way?’

Jem shook his head. ‘Can’t say it’s not a good match. Old family, Marianne. Good stock. Good match without a dowry. Devilish pretty girl. Can’t tell her it’s not a good thing for you, either. Not much of a catch, but still, husband to take care of you. Make life easier. Use the carriage. No more horse and cart. Good thing all round. Or so m’mother will say. Likes the idea, don’t you know?’

Marianne sighed. It seemed there was nothing for it. She would have to go to Lord Ravensford’s gathering and convince the Cosgroves that Jem had done the thing properly, but that she had still refused to marry him.

‘You’ll come?’ asked Jem hopefully.

Marianne nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Good show. Should be interesting,’ he said, by way of consolation. ‘Don’t have to spend the whole afternoon with m’mother. Just enough to convince her I did it right. Down on one knee, don’t you know?’

Marianne smiled. ‘You did it very well. And I’m grateful to you, Jem. Truly I am. You will make some young lady an admirable husband.’

Jem went pink. ‘Pish,’ he said, but nonetheless looked pleased. ‘Well, must be off,’ he said, obviously deciding that as his task had been done he should not trouble Marianne further. ‘Tell Ravensford you’ll come, shall I?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Good. No, don’t trouble,’ he said, as Marianne accompanied him to the door of the drawing-room. ‘See m’self out.’

‘And what was all that about?’ asked Trudie, coming in a minute later, having just seen Jem leave the house.

‘He came to propose to me,’ said Marianne with a sigh.

Trudie nodded sagely.

‘Trudie, you can’t say you were expecting it?’

‘And why not? Jem’s of an age to be married, and you should have been married long ago, Miss Marianne. If you’re not careful you’ll end up on the shelf.’