Читать книгу Improper Miss Darling - Gail Whitiker, Gail Whitiker - Страница 7

The three letters arrived on Lord Stewart’s desk within a few days of one another. Each had been written in the author’s own distinct style and each was intended to sway the reader to the writer’s assessment of a situation never before encountered: the unexpected engagement of Alex’s younger brother, Peter, to a young lady unknown to his family or to society at large.

The letter from his father, the earl, had been typically bombastic—a strongly worded missive condemning his youngest son’s behaviour, throwing out words like duty and obligation and saying that such conduct was not at all in keeping with what he expected from a member of his own family.

The letter from his mother had been more gently phrased, blaming the error of Peter’s ways on the impulsiveness of his nature and pleading with Alex to intervene before it caused irreparable rifts within the family.

But the third and most heartwrenching letter had been written by Peter himself; a desperate outpouring of emotion inspired by his love for the lady to whom he had blithely pledged his troth, along with a request for Alex’s support in light of his father’s blatant disapproval and his mother’s resultant unhappiness.

All Alex could think of as he reread the three letters was how remarkable it was that a single engagement could have spawned such a wide and diverse range of reactions.

Still, he supposed it was only to be expected. Peter might not be first in line for the title, but he was still the Earl of Widdicombe’s son, and their father always had been a stickler for propriety. No episodes of drunkenness, excessive gambling, or contracting of unsuitable marriages had ever been permitted to tarnish the family name. Alex’s ancestors prided themselves on their ability to rise above such weaknesses, eschewing the vices that had crippled so many other noble families. They had been responsible family men and landowners for centuries, and, in time, Alex would follow in their footsteps and take up the role he had been groomed for from birth. Peter would likely settle into religion or law, either being an acceptable occupation for the younger son of a peer, and both would marry ladies of high birth and exceptional breeding suitable to producing children worthy of carrying on the line.

At least, that had been the expectation until Peter had done the unthinkable by betrothing himself to an unknown girl from the country, who, in his father’s words, … while no doubt possessed of a pretty face, has absolutely nothing else to recommend her …

Now it seemed the entire family was looking to Alex for a resolution, and time was of the essence since Peter was planning a family dinner for the coming week, followed by a grand ball and gathering two weeks after that at Ellingsworth Hall, his recently acquired country estate. And while Alex wasn’t sure anyone was up to the task of smoothing an entire family’s ruffled feathers in so short a time, he realised he was probably in the best position to try. If there was one thing at which he did excel, it was cutting through the layers of emotional chaos to get to the heart of the problem and resolve it before any lasting or serious damage could be done.

‘Godfrey, have I anything of importance scheduled for the next few weeks?’ he enquired of his steward.

That impeccably groomed gentleman turned the pages of a large leather-bound diary and scanned the entries. ‘Nothing a few well-worded letters of regret won’t take care of, my lord. Why?’

‘It seems I am required in the country for a time.’

‘In the country?’ The steward looked at him askance. ‘Now?’

‘Unfortunately, my brother does not concern himself with the goings on in society. No doubt it slipped his mind that the Season would soon be underway.’

‘No doubt,’ Godfrey said, though his tone clearly indicated incredulity that anyone in the Earl of Widdicombe’s family should be so negligent in their planning. ‘I take it there is no chance he will change his mind?’

‘None whatsoever.’

‘Very well. I shall prepare the letters and have them ready for your signature by this evening.’

‘Thank you.’ Alex paused, frowning. ‘When is Lady Glynnis due back?’

‘The twenty-fourth, my lord. A week Friday.’

Friday. The day after his brother’s dinner to introduce the members of his family to those of the young lady he intended to marry. Pity. Glynnis’s presence would have gone a long way towards calming the troubled waters this first meeting was sure to stir up. His father liked Lady Glynnis Pettle. He heartily approved of Alex’s plans to marry her. And he was far less likely to fly off the handle or to embarrass Peter in front of a houseful of guests if she was there lending her graceful manners and soothing influence to the proceedings.

Of course, there was always that other kind of soothing influence, Alex reflected. One his father was known to be particularly fond of …

‘Godfrey, have we any of the earl’s favourite whisky tucked away in the cellar?’

‘I believe so, my lord.’

‘Good. Have a case of that put in the carriage as well.’

‘I shall see to it at once.’

Might as well go in prepared for all eventualities, Alex thought as he slid the letters into his desk and locked the drawer. If it didn’t help sweeten his father’s mood, it would certainly improve his. He could sit back and watch as the rest of his family battled around him, all the while thanking the gods of fortune and fate that love had not chosen him to be the unfortunate recipient of Cupid’s annoying little arrows.

If there was one thing Emma Darling longed for, it was harmony—the blissful absence of the emotional strife that turned one’s life upside down and made rational people do completely irrational things. Witness her Aunt Augusta. For the last three weeks, Emma had been staying with her aunt in Bath, listening to her go on about her daughter’s unhappy marriage and her son’s unsuitable bride, about the loneliness of her life and the scandalous affair her husband was supposedly having with the widow next door. When she became too emotionally overwrought to function, Emma had made the tea and run errands, baked Chelsea buns and read poetry, all in an attempt to console her aunt in what was obviously a very trying time.

Then, without a word of explanation or thanks, Aunt Augusta had simply packed her bags and walked out, saying she was going to stay with a friend in Newport and that she wasn’t coming back!

Not sure what else to do, Emma had hastily written letters to her cousins, explaining that their mother had gone to Newport and that it would be a good idea if one of them contacted her as soon as possible. Then she had written a note for her uncle with much the same message, adding that she would be leaving Bath the following day and returning home to Hampshire.

Emma doubted he would care. She had scarcely seen the man since her arrival in the spa town three weeks ago. And had she known the state of affairs in her aunt’s house before boarding the coach, she would never have come in the first place. The only reason she had come to Bath was as a result of her father’s other sister, Dorothy, suggesting upon her arrival at Dove’s Hollow for her twice-annual visit, that Augusta ‘wasn’t well’ and perhaps seeing Emma’s smiling face would help lift her spirits.

Aware now that it would have taken a Belzonian pulley to lift her aunt’s spirits from the abyss into which they had fallen, Emma closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief that she was almost home—back at Dove’s Hollow, where life was, for the most part, tranquil and uncomplicated. When she went downstairs in the morning, it would not be to find a middle-aged woman weeping into her tea, but her father, quietly perusing yesterday’s copy of The Times as though there were nothing of greater importance that needed to be done. Rory and Ranger, their two ageing spaniels, would be lying at his feet and there would be pleasant conversation, perhaps something of interest to be shared, until her younger sister, Linette, came downstairs to fill the room with chatter about hairstyles and dress patterns and whatever gossip happened to be circulating in the local shops the previous day.

At that point, Mr Darling would pick up his paper and escape to his study for the rest of the morning, leaving his daughters to discuss the latest goings on in London and to speculate upon who was marrying for love and who was marrying to better their position in life.

Emma, who tended to believe that everyone wed for material gain, would eventually finish her tea, bid her sister good morning and then go about her day. If the summer months were upon them, she would head into the garden to cut fresh flowers for the various table arrangements, or take a book into the shady recesses of the garden to read. In autumn, she would don her riding habit and enjoy a brisk canter along the leaf-covered roads, or collect apples from the trees in the nearby orchard. Once winter fell and the air grew chill, she might harness Bess and take the trap down to the village to shop for fabric, or, if too cold to go out, gather up her embroidery and settle in front of the fireplace to sew.

But now in the spring, her days were devoted to painting, to capturing the myriad shades of the new season on canvas, from the pastel greens of the freshly burst buds to the delicate pink-and-white blossoms of apple and cherry trees. With brush in hand, she would venture into the garden and try to replicate the glorious panoply of colour all around her.

Having to spend three weeks with Aunt Augusta at such a time had been agony!

However, that was all behind her now, and with her brother away at Oxford and Linette in a lull between passionate storms, Emma had every expectation of life being uneventful. As the carriage finally rumbled to a halt in front of the old stone house, she found herself counting the minutes until she could escape into the peace and quiet of the garden with her easel and brushes—

‘Emma, dear, welcome home,’ Aunt Dorothy cried, appearing in the courtyard as the carriage door swung open. ‘Did you enjoy your stay in Bath?’

Emma frowned. Aunt Dorothy was still here? ‘Not exactly, but I dare say you’ll be hearing why from one of your nieces in the not-too-distant future. But what are you still doing here, Aunt?’ she asked, climbing down from the carriage. ‘I thought you were to have gone back to London weeks ago.’

‘That was my intention, but there have been some interesting developments while you’ve been away and your father asked me if I would stay on a little longer.’

Developments? Emma wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. ‘What kind of developments?’

‘You’ll see. Your father is waiting for you in his study.’

Emma paused, arrested by the expression on the older woman’s face. ‘Aunt Dorothy, you look like the cat that swallowed the canary. What has been going on?’

‘I would love to tell you, my dear, but your father insists on giving you the news himself. But once he has, come to us in the drawing room and we will tell you all the things he has most likely forgotten.’

Emma didn’t miss her aunt’s use of the words us and we. ‘Has this something to do with Linette?’

‘It has, but more than that I dare not say.’ She kissed Emma fondly on the cheek, smelling vaguely of sherry and peppermint, and then turned to lead the way into the house. Emma followed, wondering what could have happened to warrant such an inexplicable turn of events. Aunt Dorothy was not fond of country living. She only came to stay with them twice a year, saying it was the least she could do for her poor widowed brother and his three motherless children, but Emma knew she counted the days until she could return to London again.

What kind of ‘development’ could have prompted her to stay on, and to look as though there was nowhere else she would rather be?

‘Linette is engaged?’ Emma repeated after her father gave her the news. ‘To whom?’

‘Can you not guess?’

‘In truth I cannot. The only gentleman of whom she has spoken with any affection is Mr Taylor, but I cannot imagine that he …’ Emma stopped. ‘Never tell me he has proposed.’

‘Yes, and very sweetly, according to your sister.’

‘But … the youngest son of the Earl of Widdicombe? Why on earth would he propose to Linette?’

‘For all the usual reasons, I suppose. Apparently he is head over heels in love with the girl and cannot imagine life without her.’

‘Good Lord.’ Emma sat down in the nearest chair. ‘Did he really say that?’

‘He did, and naturally your sister is over the moon. There is to be a ball held in a few weeks’ time to celebrate their betrothal.’

Emma’s eyes widened. ‘Not here!’

‘Good Lord, no, we are not nearly grand enough. The festivities are to take place at Ellingsworth Hall. I believe Lady Widdicombe is coming down to oversee the arrangements. That’s why I asked Dorothy to stay on. I thought it might be helpful for Linette to have an older woman to talk to. One who has … experience of marriage and would be able to offer advice in that regard. You understand.’

Oh, yes, Emma understood. Educating a young girl as to the ‘expectations’ of marriage was a job that usually fell to the mother or married older sister; but in the absence of both, her father had obviously decided that his widowed sister was the best person for the job.

Pity, Emma reflected drily. If her father had wanted his youngest daughter to learn about the expectations of marriage, he should have sent her to Bath. Linette would have learned a great deal more there than she had by staying here.

‘When did all this happen?’ Emma asked. ‘I’ve only been gone three weeks.’

‘The proposal was offered a few days after you left.’

‘And no one wrote to tell me about it?’

Her father had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘We thought it best not to. We knew you would wish to come home at once and Dorothy felt it better that you stayed with Gussie.’ He tugged at his ear, a sure sign of his discomfort. ‘I understand she is having some … family issues.’

‘You could say that,’ Emma muttered, not about to go into the details. ‘Have you heard anything from Lord and Lady Widdicombe?’

‘Not yet. They are in London and no doubt very busy with the Season. But I expect I will be hearing from his lordship quite soon.’

‘I wonder what they think of this engagement,’ Emma mused. ‘Linette is the sweetest girl in the world, but the disparity between her social standing and Mr Taylor’s cannot be denied. I would have thought it an insurmountable barrier to marriage.’

‘As would I,’ her father agreed. ‘But young Mr Taylor doesn’t seem to mind and there is nothing one can object to in Linette. She is as lovely as a spring day and as sweet as custard pie, although perhaps a trifle naïve.’

A great deal naïve, Emma was tempted to say. There was a world of difference between life at Dove’s Hollow and the role she would be expected to fulfil as mistress of Ellingsworth Hall. Linette had never been exposed to society before. She had been to London once and had seemed happy enough to leave it. Her only social interactions since then had been at the local assemblies and dances that were held in the village of Little Moreton.

What a turnabout now to find her engaged to one of the most eligible bachelors in the county!

‘I hope she knows what she is doing,’ Emma murmured. ‘I love Linette with all my heart, but she is a hopeless romantic and tends towards impulsive behaviour. What seems like a good idea one day is positively the worst the next, with scarcely a breath in between.’

‘I know, and only time will tell how genuinely happy the two of them will be,’ her father said. ‘But you will have an opportunity to see for yourself tomorrow evening.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘We have been invited to dine at Ellingsworth Hall. Just a small gathering of the immediate family. Your aunt will have all the details. In fact, you had best run along now, my dear, I’m sure she and your sister are at sixes and sevens waiting to tell you all about it.’

‘Yes, I’m sure they are.’ Emma managed a smile as she slowly got to her feet. ‘Imagine, our little Linette engaged to the son of an earl. It is a tremendous match for her.’

‘Yes, though considerably less so for him. But they are not wed yet.’

‘Do you think one of them will cry off?’

‘My dear, when it comes to matters of the heart, I have learned that nothing is impossible.’ Her father retired to the comfort of his favourite chair beneath which Rory and Ranger slept and picked up one of his books. ‘A burning passion can be doused with a few ill-chosen words and undying love can, in fact, die a quick and painful death. Nothing is as fickle as love. We would all do well to remember that.’

For the next hour, Emma was treated to a complete and extensive list of the Honourable Peter Taylor’s qualities. According to Linette, he was the most handsome, the most charming, the most good-natured and the most patient of men. He was an accomplished rider, an excellent shot, spoke French like a native and even played the pianoforte.

By the time Emma reached her room, she was beginning to wonder whether her sister was marrying a saint rather than just a mere man. However, since Linette was also happier than Emma had ever seen her, establishing the difference seemed unimportant. She had found the man of her dreams and tomorrow evening they were to dine with Mr Taylor and his family at Ellingsworth Hall, a magnificent Elizabethan house nestled in over one hundred acres of rolling English countryside.

Not only that, two weeks later, friends and family would be arriving for an extended house party. It would commence with a grand ball on the Friday evening, followed by a series of outdoor events on the Saturday afternoon and a formal dinner that evening. Guests would likely begin leaving Sunday morning, and by the time it was over, Emma was sure she would know everything there was to know about the illustrious Peter Taylor and his family. Even her brother, Ridley, had been sent a note, strongly suggesting that he make himself available for the festivities.

Emma thought longingly of her easel and brushes. It was a beautiful afternoon and she would have loved to spend some time enjoying the sights and sounds of nature, especially after the long, dreary hours she had been forced to spend with Aunt Augusta.

However, it was clear that artistic endeavours would have to wait. Her sister was to be married to the youngest son of the Earl of Widdicombe. There would be a hundred-and-one details to sort out, and, knowing Aunt Dorothy’s tendency to tipple during times of high emotional stress, Emma suspected most of the decisions would have to be made by her. She would try to be as patient as possible, and make herself available for Linette in whatever capacity her sister required. Other than that, all she could do was offer up silent prayers that it wouldn’t be too long before the whole dizzying affair was behind them.

Prior to leaving for the country, Alex stopped off in Mayfair to pay a call on his parents. He hadn’t heard from either of them since making them aware of his intention to travel down to Ellingsworth and he was curious to know if they planned on attending the dinner Peter was giving to introduce his fiancée to whichever members of his family were present. Considering his father’s sentiments about the match, Alex knew better than to consider his parent’s attendance a foregone conclusion.

He found his mother seated at her desk in the Wedgwood Salon, going through a large pile of correspondence. Garbed in a morning gown of deep-turquoise silk, she looked the picture of serenity; but, upon closer inspection, Alex noticed that her complexion was pale and that she looked to have lost weight, something she could ill afford to do. He quietly crossed the room and bent to drop a kiss on the top of her dark, shining head. ‘Good morning, Mother.’

‘Alex!’ Lady Widdicombe jumped. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I was that caught up in my notes I didn’t hear you come in. How are you?’

‘Well. I’m on my way to Ellingsworth and thought I would stop by to find out if and when you and Father were driving down.’

His mother sighed. ‘I shall be leaving tomorrow, but your father won’t be joining me. He’s worked himself into such a state over this engagement, I’ve had to call in Dr Harrow.’

‘Harrow? That can’t have made Father happy. What did the doctor say?’

‘That Richard could do with losing a little weight and have one less whisky before retiring. And that he was to rest for a few days.’

‘Sage advice for any man, I suppose,’ Alex said. ‘Is he in his study?’

‘No. He wasn’t feeling quite the thing this morning so he decided to remain in his room.’

‘Then I shall go and see him—’

‘Alex, there’s something I have to tell you,’ his mother said abruptly. ‘Something you need to know before you go upstairs …’

It was bad news. Alex knew it from the way she suddenly refused to meet his eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It isn’t just Peter’s engagement that has upset your father. Last week he … collapsed, in his study,’ she said slowly. ‘Dr Harrow said it … could be his heart.’

His heart? Alex was stunned. His father was only fifty-nine years old and as fit as most men half his age. When had he suddenly developed problems of this nature? ‘Has this happened before?’

‘I don’t know. He says it hasn’t, but you know he doesn’t like worrying us and he hates having to see the doctor.’ His mother sighed. ‘Naturally, he didn’t want me to say anything to you at all. He said there was no point in upsetting you because in a matter of days it would all be fine. And maybe it will be. But I felt you had a right to know before you went down to see your brother.’

Alex walked slowly across the room, stopping by the long window. ‘What did Harrow suggest?’

‘That we restrict your father to a light diet. Boiled fish and broths, no rich desserts or sauces. And he must be kept as calm as possible.’

Calm. With his youngest son about to marry a woman of whom he heartily disapproved. It was like telling a starving fox to ignore the rabbit jumping up and down in front of his nose.

‘On second thought, perhaps it’s best Father not come down to Ellingsworth just yet,’ Alex said. ‘At least not until I’ve had a chance to see how things stand. With luck, I’ll be able to rectify matters without Father ever having to be involved.’

‘Oh, that would be wonderful, Alex,’ his mother said. ‘I do want Peter to be happy, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned. We know absolutely nothing about this young woman. Who her people are, where she comes from, what her background is. And naturally that worries your father very much. He is afraid Peter has engaged himself to some fortune-hunting social climber.’

‘We can’t deny that the possibility exists,’ Alex acknowledged, ‘but I’ll find out what I can. And I understand if you would rather stay here with Father than travel all the way down to Hampshire.’

To his surprise, his mother shook her head. ‘There’s really nothing I can do here. Your father will be happier having Murdoch look after him. He thinks he’s more likely to get that glass of whisky. But I’ve warned Murdoch not to indulge him and Dr Harrow did say he would look in while I was gone. Besides, I promised Peter I would take care of the arrangements for the ball. Being a man, he won’t have a clue where to start. That’s what I’ve been doing this morning,’ she said, indicating the pile of papers on her desk. ‘And to be honest, I do want to meet this young woman without your father being there to glower at her. If Peter cannot be dissuaded from going ahead with the marriage, I want to know what kind of person I am going to be welcoming into the family.’ She sighed. ‘I would like to feel there is at least one area of my life over which I have some control.’

The earl was dozing when Alex walked into his room, and though only a few weeks had passed since his last visit, Alex could definitely see a change in his father’s appearance. His complexion was grey, his hands lay limp at his sides and there was a definite rattle in his chest when he breathed. Hard to equate the elderly-looking man slumped in his chair with the vital, powerful figure Alex had known all of his life. ‘Father?’ he ventured quietly.

‘Hmm?’ The earl’s head moved, his eyes slowly opening. ‘Oh, it’s you, Alex. Didn’t hear you come in.’ He tried to sit up. ‘Must be all this medication Harrow’s been forcing down my throat. Told him I didn’t want any of the damn stuff.’

‘If he’s giving you medication, it’s because you need it,’ Alex said, pulling up a chair next to his father’s. ‘And if you don’t take it, I shall force it down your throat myself. We cannot have you messing about when it comes to your health.’

‘Damnation! She told you, didn’t she!’ the earl railed. ‘I knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself.’

‘Yes, Mother told me and she was right to do so.’

‘She was not right to do so and I’ll tell you now, it is not my heart! It was indigestion. Brought on by a bit of bad pork.’

‘A man does not collapse from indigestion,’ Alex said calmly.

‘Of course he does. I told Harrow as much too, the old quack! Said all I needed was a good glass of whisky!’

‘I trust he didn’t give you one.’

‘He did not. Neither did Murdoch, damn his surly Scottish hide! I’ve a good mind to send him packing.’

Alex smiled. ‘That would be a mistake, Father. Murdoch’s been with you for nigh on forty years.’

‘Yes, and he’s getting far too uppity in his old age,’ his father grumbled. He briefly closed his eyes, took a moment to catch his breath. ‘So, what are you going to do about this situation with your brother?’

‘Too early to say, but I’m on my way to Ellingsworth now.’

‘Good, Alex, good, I have every confidence you’ll be able to take care of it. And your timing couldn’t be better. You know Peter’s planned a dinner for the chit and her family on Thursday evening.’

‘I heard.’

‘Trumped-up little harpy,’ the earl muttered. ‘It was likely her idea that he hold a celebratory dinner in her honour so that she can get a taste of what her life is going to be like once she’s lady of the manor. But we’re not going to let that happen, are we, Alex? We’re going to nip this in the bud long before it gets to that point.’

Unwilling to give his father false assurances, Alex merely said, ‘I’ll do what I can, sir. I take it you’re not planning to be there.’

‘Ha! I’d as soon spit in her eye as see her sit at my son’s table. But Harrow has confined me to bed for a few days so I won’t be able to go regardless. But you know what’s what, Alex. You know we can’t allow this marriage to take place.’

‘It may be out of our hands. Have you spoken to Peter recently?’

‘What’s the point?’ The earl’s face twisted. ‘He says he loves her and that’s all there is to it. But we both know he’s marrying beneath himself. And mark my words, he’ll live to regret it.’

Alex decided not to address that for the moment. Marriages between mismatched social partners often did work out, but it wasn’t easy and it usually required a considerable degree of sacrifice on one part or the other. ‘Do you know anything about the girl?’ he asked instead.

‘Not yet, though I’ve engaged someone to make enquiries. And you needn’t look at me like that,’ he said when Alex raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘If there’s bad blood in the family, I want to know about it before my son puts a ring on her finger!’

‘It is possible you’re exaggerating things, sir,’ Alex said. ‘She may be a perfectly charming young woman.’

‘Really? Have you ever heard of the Darlings of Little Moreton? No, I thought not. Mark my words, she’s after his money and an easy life. Peter won’t believe that, of course. Reading his letter, you’d think she was an angel from heaven complete with fairy wings and a blasted halo! But I’ll wager she’s a common little chit with no breeding and bad manners. Pretty, but not at all suitable to being the wife of a Taylor.’

And that’s really what it all came down to, Alex reflected drily. The appropriateness of the ladies his sons wished to marry. ‘Well, I’ll do what I can, but you should be prepared for the worst,’ Alex said, getting to his feet. ‘Peter’s sensible enough to make up his own mind—’

‘No man’s sensible when it comes to women,’ his father interrupted. ‘That’s why I’m so proud of you, Alex. You take your obligations seriously. Always have. Lady Glynnis Pettle is precisely the sort of woman your brother should be marrying. A woman who knows her place in society. One you’ll never have to worry about. She’s an earl’s daughter, after all.’

Alex smiled. ‘Yes, she is, but she’s also a good friend and has been for a long time. As to the other matter, I’ll do what I can, but I’m not making any promises.’

‘I have faith in you, my boy,’ his father said. ‘You’ve been a good and dutiful son all your life. You’ve never once given me any reason to doubt you. If anyone is going to be able to resolve this mess and make Peter listen to sense, it’s you.’