The Impossible Ward (23 page)

“Oh ho, so that’s the tale, is it? Young Richard has been escaping his gaolers, has he?”

Richard looked fearfully at his hero. “I
don’t know
what is
escaping,
but I did not do it. Me and Nuisance was tired of staying inside. We wanted to go out and climb a tree.” Richard was more than willing to allocate an equal share of the responsibility to the dog.

“You know you must always ask Nurse when you wish to go outside, Richard. You might have become lost in the woods. What would you have done then on such a cold day?”

After due consideration the boy slewed around from his position in front of Sir Martin. “Nuisance knew the way home,” he stated with simple faith and touching dignity, but the day was not to be his for Lord Andrew had the final word.

“Well, old chap, we are all happy that you came to no harm, but you are in line for a thundering scold from your nurse.”

Recognizing the brutal truth of this pronouncement, Richard relapsed into a sulky silence for the remainder of the short ride back to the Hall. He made the trip uncomfortably memorable for his host by his constant twisting to assure himself that the puppy was still among the party. Nuisance, happy to be in his rightful place among the humans, was panting but game to keep pace with the horses.

Indeed it was a rather quiet group that slowly approached the great house a few minutes later.

Sophia, never loquacious at any time, was silently treasuring the enchanted moment when Andrew had addressed an endearment to her and looked at her with deep concern. Though she was too sensible to build on what was probably a slip of the tongue—a throwback perhaps to childhood days—there was no repressing the dreamy contentment that brought an especially sweet expression to her comely face.

Lord Andrew was facing some facts he had hitherto blithely ignored and reassessing his immediate future plans in the light of this new knowledge. Strangely enough no one had been more surprised by his recent actions than he himself, and he needed time and solitude to think things through. His expression was abstracted as they drew near to the Hall but he held his passenger with great tenderness.

Sir Martin Archer, after a swift study of his friend’s face when he had refused to allow him to transport Lady Marianne home, had finally admitted to himself that Lunswick was seriously courting his ward. It was rather a sticky situation and he would have to devote some concentrated thought to his own position.

At the beginning of the ride home Lady Marianne was busily engrossed in resenting her trustee’s contribution to the embarrassment she had brought upon herself by her pretense of fear when in that tree, though this was certainly mitigated by the satisfaction of being proved correct in her reading of Sophia’s and Andrew’s unexpressed feelings for each other. In fact the more she thought about it the more complacent she became with her own role in the affair and the more charitable toward the marquess. After all, it would have needed a saint to resist teasing her about her predicament in the tree, and he had
not
given her away. Once before she had found herself being carried home on Mountain, but this time it was impossible to ignore the nearness of the marquess, for her treacherous body was relaxing against him in pure enjoyment, though she refused to think about those few moments when he had guided her down the tree, handling her as though she belonged to him. The inadmissible thought crept in and she sat up straighter, determined to banish it.

As if reading her mind, Justin tightened his hold on her and gently drew her back against his shoulder once more. “You aren’t dripping wet this time,” he murmured into her ear and was rewarded by a ghost of a chuckle as she settled more comfortably against him.

As the quiet party approached the Hall, all the individual moods were shattered by the reception awaiting them. Coleman must have been watching for the gentlemen because he had the door opened before they were halfway down the drive. By the time they pulled up in front of the main entrance he had been joined by one footman, two of the maids, Lady Lunswick, Nurse, and Lady Mauraugh. Even Selwyn hovered on the fringes of the group, radiating disapproval.

Lady Mauraugh hastened forward to take her son from Sir Martin.

“Is he hurt?”

“O’ course I’m not hurt, Mama,” came the indignant reply as the earl struggled in his mother’s arms until she stood him on his own sturdy feet. She knelt down beside him, as did Nurse, to check the truth of this claim, then looked up with misty eyes at the marquess who had dismounted and was preparing to lift Lady Marianne down.

“Thank heavens you found him, Justin. How can I ever thank you?”

“You cannot, because I had nothing to do with finding Richard. It was Miss Huntingdon and Lady Marianne who came across him marooned in a tree and rescued him.” He set Lady Marianne on her feet and smiled at Lady Mauraugh.

“In a tree? What were you doing in a tree, Richard?” queried Lady Lunswick, while his mother and nurse simply stared.

“I
climbed
up the tree o’course, and I wasn’t ’rooned,” the earl declared with commendable aplomb, “only I did not quite know how to get down, so I waited until Miss Huntingdon and Lady Marianne came, and Lady Marianne showed me how to climb down, only then she got dizzy and couldn’t get down herself and Cousin Justin had to go up and get her.”

As she listened to this tale Lady Mauraugh’s face took on a set expression, but she wore a glittering smile as she rose and approached the two younger girls. She thanked them graciously for their efforts on behalf of her son, then addressing Lady Marianne, added lightly with a brittle laugh: “It does not sound like you, Lady Marianne, to suffer from a fear of heights, or indeed to fail in any endeavor for a want of nerve.”

Marianne returned a sweet false smile. “It is strange, is it not, Ma’am, that we both came to grief over a tree branch?
You
rode into one and I got stuck on one. Fortunately I sustained no injury of any kind, but if you will please excuse me, I should like to change this crumpled dress. Sophia, will you come with me?” She paused in the huge open doorway, but her friend, after checking the time, declined hastily as she was expected back at the vicarage.

Marianne bid Sophia good-bye and headed for the main staircase. She had her foot on the second stair when Andrew’s voice, soft and close behind her, halted her movement.

“Oh, Marianne, be sure to take care on those stairs.”

She had been lost in thought and his words failed to penetrate.

“I beg your pardon, Andrew?”

“You’ll be perfectly safe as long as you do not look down,” he assured her solemnly.

She stared into his dancing eyes for a moment, her own blank, then as his meaning sank in, fled up the stairs in confusion, conscious of his mocking laughter rising after her.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Lady Marianne Carstairs glided down the main staircase humming softly to herself. A discerning ear might have identified the tune as the ballad she had sung to the assembled household nine days previously. The refrain had been running through her mind ever since and, being unobserved, she trilled a few bars aloud in a slightly theatrical fashion as she approached the first landing.

The last four days had seen changes in the personnel residing at the Hall. Following Richard’s adventure in the tree, Lady Mauraugh had made a decision to bring her visit to an end and had said her farewells the very next day. Her hostess had calmly accepted her sister-in-law’s explanation that a less stimulating environment would be more beneficial to a child of his tender years, and had cheerfully set her household to the task of assisting in the somewhat precipitous departure of the countess’ entourage for London. Not for a king’s ransom would the marchioness have pointed out that Richard’s alleged need of a more robust environment and additional masculine contacts had been the ostensible impetus for the visit originally. Remembering the flurry of preparations set in train to enable the countess to make as noteworthy a departure as her arrival had been, Marianne smiled and admitted to herself that life had taken on an aura of contentment subsequent to this happy event. She had expected the departure of the countess to signal the end of the distinguishing attentions being paid her by her trustee and had made a determined effort to convince herself that this was a consummation devoutly to be wished. To her amazement, however, the only change she could detect in Justin’s behavior was a relaxation in his bearing and a gentler curve to his mouth when he smiled at her. Not even the most determinedly pessimistic of young ladies could have convinced herself that there was the slightest diminution in the number of smiles directed at her by the marquess.

The only occurrence to cloud her happiness briefly was an offer of marriage made to her by Sir Martin Archer on the day following Lady Mauraugh’s leaving. Not being a scalp hunter like some of her sex, Marianne was cast into low spirits at being obliged to hurt her friend by refusing his very flattering offer, and was thrown into a further turmoil of agony at the thought of the awkwardness attendant on unavoidable future meetings with someone whose affections she had not been able to reciprocate. Sir Martin, however, as befitted a gentleman of his nice sensibilities, insured that his presence should not be a living rebuke to her by removing from the immediate vicinity. His departure had followed close on the heels of Lady Mauraugh’s, and for the past two days the number of persons residing at the Hall had decreased to just the immediate family and Marianne. The two days had passed in a haze of quiet contentment with no visitors and no social activities scheduled. She had spent most of her waking hours in Justin’s company, scarcely registering the interesting fact that Lord Andrew was spending a great deal of time at the vicarage these days. He had not mentioned a morning ride either day, and the fencing lessons had been allowed to lapse by tacit agreement.

She paused at the landing and rubbed her hand over the newel post, absently savoring the satiny smoothness of the polished wood as she stood stock still, acknowledging what she had heretofore refused to admit, that the globe of happiness in which she had dwelt these past few days had been designed by Justin and erected during the joyous hours of companionship they had enjoyed without interruptions by other people. It still seemed incredible that Justin should have preferred her to the beautiful countess, but at last she was beginning to accept that he had indeed singled her out from all the lovely and accomplished women of his acquaintance. She could no longer doubt that he was as quietly happy in her exclusive company as she was in his, but she still refused to look ahead to the future. For now, she was quite content to drift along, treasuring each shining new day to the fullest. And this day was already advanced to very late morning. She had best stop daydreaming on the stairs and go to seek out her hostess whom she had been neglecting shamefully in the last couple of days. Not that Lady Lunswick had appeared even to notice that her young guest was spending less time with her. She was happily engaged in a bustle of housekeeping activities these days, but at this hour was likely to be in her morning room. Marianne ran lightly down the last flight of stairs, her soft house shoes making no sound at all. Indeed she felt weightless and perfectly capable of flying today. Smiling a little at this fanciful notion, she turned and headed past Justin’s study toward the morning room. She noticed that the door to the former was not quite shut and stopped abruptly, wondering if Justin might be in there. He had not suggested a ride this morning, probably because the skies had been rather threatening. She hesitated at the door, her hand extended, but was prevented from pushing it open by a sudden attack of shyness. No, she could not quite bring herself to seek him out. Her hand dropped, but before she could turn away Lord Andrew’s voice drifted out to her.

“Very well, that’s settled then. I say, do I recognize this walking stick?”

Justin’s laugh. Justin’s voice. “Most likely you would not require three guesses. He was here earlier this morning to ask my permission to pay his addresses to Marianne. I had not noticed that he left it here.”

In the act of turning away, the sound of her own name froze Marianne in her tracks.
Who
was seeking permission to address her? Her pulses started hammering and she must have missed Lord Andrew’s next question, but Justin’s laughing reply reached her clearly.

“You guessed correctly. I sent him on his way with no halfway measures about it. He’s not going to repair his excesses with his cousin’s fortune.” Cousin Justin must be referring to Aubrey then. She caught only the latter part of Andrew’s next remark.

“... have them all beating a path to your door once Marianne hits the London scene.”

“Do I not know it!” came the rueful reply. “Of course there is
one
way to prevent all the fuss and bother. You might marry her yourself.” Lord And
r
ew’s casual tone once again stopped Marianne as she was turning away. She felt suspended in time as she waited, scarcely breathing,

for Justin’s answer. When it came there was still an undercurrent of laughter running through his words.

“What an excellent suggestion, brother. I shall give it due consideration.”

“Especially since you’ve thought of nothing else since you met her. I never thought to see you tumble head over ears, Justin, but she’s a girl in a thousand and exactly right for you. You will suit wonderfully.”

These last remarks of Lord Andrew’s, though he was unaware-of the fact, were delivered to an audience diminished by one, for Marianne was charging blindly up the great staircase, her only thought to put as much distance as possible between herself and the laughing voice of her trustee. It was another voice calling her name insistently that jerked her momentarily out of the state of numbed despair caused by Justin’s careless reference to possible marriage plans. Her headlong flight jerked to a stop and she turned with a hand on the rail.

“I ... beg your pardon, Ma’am. Did you speak to me?”

“
Speak
to you? I shrieked at you rather,” laughed Lady Lunswick from the hall below. “Where are you dashing to so madly?”

“Nowhere ... that is, I ... forgot my handkerchief and am going up to my room to get one. Did you wish to speak to me?” She was still half turned from her hostess while she sought to compose her features.

“Not really, my dear, but Coleman has just brought me the mail and there is a letter for you from Yorkshire. I thought you might like to have it now. I was on my way to the kitchens to confer with Christophe when I saw you, so I took it from the bag and followed you.” The marchioness smiled and held out a white envelope.

“Of course, Ma’am, I thank you.” Mechanically Marianne descended the stairs and accepted the envelope. She managed a creditable smile. “Do not allow Christophe to bully you,” she said to break the tiny silence that ensued.

“No fear of that today,” Lady Lunswick replied gaily as she turned in the direction of the kitchens. “I can take on an army these days.”

Her nonsense brought a real smile to Marianne’s pale face. “Let us hope then that Christophe is not feeling just so full of bravado as you today.” She headed back up the stairs at a more sedate pace this time, noting but not really absorbing the fact that the envelope she held was directed in the rector’s spidery hand.

Once in the shelter of her bedchamber she leaned wearily against the closed door for a moment, still clutching the letter but making no attempt to read it. Instead she was gazing blankly into her future which had instantly been blighted by some half-joking words from her trustee. What a fool she had been, what a stupid fool to allow herself to hope that Justin had begun to love her as she loved him. For the first time she admitted her folly to herself. Despite the wise counsel of her brain which had recognized danger at the initial moment of meeting, she had allowed Justin’s charm of manner and that irresistible smile of his to disarm her defenses. Not quite immediately perhaps, but steadily, insidiously, his charm had eroded the sandstone of her pretense of indifference and left her now as bereft as she had felt in that instant in the barn when his quick glance had dismissed her as an object of interest. Why, when she had heard warning bells right from the beginning, had she chained up her intelligence, and thus encumbered, proceeded to jump into the sea? Well, she admitted wearily, she had now sunk without trace and all the blame was her own. She had ignored the blatant signs that Justin was a man incapable of loving a woman in the only way she would accept: by a mutual and total surrender of oneself to the loved one. It mattered little really whether his incapacity could be laid at Lady Mauraugh’s door or not, the end result was the same.

She began a slow pacing of the large room, as aimless as her wandering thoughts. Justin had assured her that she would not be wooed for her fortune and she readily acquitted him of having any designs in that direction. She could even accept that there was something in his nature that sought to win the approval of every attractive female who crossed his path, and therefore acquit him of any deliberate intent to wound those whom he succeeded in captivating by the inevitable withdrawal of his interest when a new face caught his eye. Whatever capacity he might have had for forming a lasting attachment had withered and died in the last five years. She knew he liked her quite well and enjoyed her company. He would undoubtedly be a charming lover. For many women, perhaps the majority of those who had lived through the romantic stage of the very young, this mild regard might be sufficient. But she knew by the depth of her disappointment at hearing his casual half declared intention to wed her to save himself future inconvenience that it was totally unacceptable to one of her passionate nature. Before meeting Justin she had calmly dismissed marriage as improbable in her circumstances. She had not really understood then that her “circumstances” could be more accurately described as a mental and emotional attitude than physical or financial restrictions. But now that she did know what she demanded, she must strive for acceptance of defeat and stop yearning for the unattainable. There was no question of compromise; not for her a half a loaf. Her lips twisted wryly as she acknowledged to herself that she was quite capable of destroying a pleasant marriage of convenience in her disappointment at not having achieved a true marriage.

So, having faced this unpalatable truth, it remained only to remove herself from Justin’s orbit, for she had no taste for daily martyrdom. Her place was in Yorkshire with her grandfather. Her hands which had been twisting something absently as she paced the floor, stilled at the thought of home, and her glance fell on a thoroughly mauled envelope. Heavens, the rector’s letter would be all but undecipherable after such treatment! With slow deliberate movements she opened the crushed letter and smoothed out the single sheet covered with crossed writing. She read it with the concentration of a lawyer perusing a contract, keeping her unhappy thoughts at bay for the duration. By the time she had completed a second careful reading she had resolved on a course of action. Her angry insistence on wringing from Justin that promise to allow her to go home in return for her cooperation in the mock courtship was proving to be a farsighted policy. All that was required from her was enough resolution to play her part without giving herself away. At this point no one need know that nothing less than Justin’s permanent exile would induce her to set foot in Lunswick Hall again. At the thought of never seeing Lady Lunswick again her step faltered in her pacing and the hot tears stung behind her eyelids. Angrily she dashed them away with the back of her hand and glanced at the mantel clock. This was no time to indulge in a bout of weeping; luncheon would be served almost immediately. There would be ample time for the shedding of tears in the years ahead, she concluded somberly—all the rest of her life. She repressed the shudder that rippled through her frame at the idea and, walking to the pier-glass, adjusted her sash with trembling fingers. She pinched her cheeks violently to restore some color to her ashen countenance and resolutely headed for the stage on which it was essential that she give her finest performance.

The beautifully sprung traveling chaise that the marquess’ father had had specially built for his wife some few years before his death was swaying crazily as they struck a particularly bad stretch of road. Marianne bent forward to peer through the window at the familiar Yorkshire scenery glittering in the weak sunshine under a thin coating of ice from last night’s storm. Even at the snail’s pace demanded by the condition of the road they should be arriving at the farm in full daylight and then it would be over, her bittersweet sojourn amongst the nobility. After today she would revert to her former position of farm manager and sometime companion to two elderly scholars. Unconsciously she sighed aloud, but so deeply immersed was she in her sad reverie that she failed to see the quick sympathetic glance cast her way by Agnes, one of the younger maids at the Hall, who had been detailed to be her traveling companion. Agnes, who had never been farther from her village than Bath, and that rarely, was all eagerness to endure a cold, uncomfortable journey in the dead of winter for the privilege of extending her provincial horizons. From her artless conversation Marianne received the indirect but distinct impression that the young country girl intended to make capital of this excursion to raise her status in the servant’s hall. In any event she welcomed her undemanding presence and intermittent chatter as an occasional respite from her own unsatisfactory musings, and a buffer between herself and Justin who had insisted on providing her with his personal escort back to her grandfather despite her heartfelt protests that she would do perfectly well with one of the grooms for protection.