Читать книгу Improper Miss Darling - Gail Whitiker, Gail Whitiker - Страница 8

Ellingsworth Hall was an exquisite Elizabethan house perched prettily on the edge of a vast wood. Unlike many such grand houses, it had not been ruined by tasteless additions thrust upon it by succeeding generations; but had retained the dignity of its origins, the mellow gold stone reflecting warmth and welcome to all who came near.

‘The formal gardens in the back are exceptionally lovely,’ Linette said as the carriage drew to a halt under the portico. ‘Mr Taylor took me for a walk through them last week. He was remarkably knowledgeable about the names of the flowers. I just said they were all very pretty and that my sister would create the most beautiful arrangements if she had such a garden to draw upon.’

Emma smiled, silently adding botanist to the growing list of her future brother-in-law’s accomplishments. ‘I am content with the selection I have in our own gardens, Linette, but I suspect you will be grateful for the variety. The need for flower arrangements will be that much greater in a house the size of Ellingsworth.’

‘Without question,’ Aunt Dorothy said. ‘Mrs Connelly told me the house has twenty-seven rooms, including twelve bedrooms.’

And Mrs Connelly would know, Emma thought drily. The wife of the local squire made it her business to know everything that went on in Little Moreton. In a bucolic village where the arrival of the post was the most exciting thing to happen in a day, the upcoming marriage of a peer’s son to a local girl must have seemed like manna from heaven.

‘Can this really be happening, Emma?’ Linette asked in a voice of wonder. ‘Or shall I wake up to find that it has all been a dream?’

‘I certainly hope it is not a dream,’ Emma said. ‘Otherwise I shall have expended a great deal of time and effort getting dressed, and all for nothing.’

‘It is never a waste of time to make oneself look pretty, Emma,’ Aunt Dorothy chided. ‘On such an auspicious occasion, we must all try to look our very best. Even your father has made more of an effort than usual.’

‘I have made no more or less of an effort than I would have for any other occasion,’ Mr Darling objected.

‘Nonsense, Percy, you look quite the thing in your new mulberry jacket. And I do like the way Jenks has tied your cravat. Simple, yet elegant. The hallmark of a gentleman.’

Emma smiled, aware that how they looked would likely be of secondary importance to how they behaved. They were about to meet the Earl and Countess of Widdicombe, two of society’s most illustrious and influential members. Lord Widdicombe sat in the House of Lords and Lady Widdicombe was a close confidant of the patronesses of Almack’s. They owned an elegant town house in London, a sprawling estate in Kent, and likely several other establishments with which Emma was not familiar.

By contrast, Emma’s father was a former tutor and her late mother was the daughter of a well-to-do merchant. They had acquired Dove’s Hollow upon the demise of Mr Darling’s older brother, Cyril, who had apparently won the house and all its contents at the faro table. After Cyril’s unfortunate death in a drunken brawl, the house had passed to Emma’s father, who had been only too delighted to move his young family in and take up the life of a gentleman. They were not well travelled, did not go regularly to the theatre or museums, and though Emma had been to London once, she had not been formally presented at Court, having had no one to sponsor her or cover the costs of a Season.

Still, at least they made a presentable party as they climbed the steps to the front door of the house her sister would soon be calling home. Aunt Dorothy was wearing a stylish new gown of terre d’Eygpt sarsenet, Linette was radiant in white muslin trimmed with double bands of gold embroidery and Emma’s own gown was a shade of pale green she knew to be flattering to her dark hair and fair complexion.

Nevertheless, she was thankful she was not the one who would have to bear the brunt of the scrutiny tonight. This evening, she was simply a bystander. She would support her sister in every way she could, but if the earl and countess took it into their heads to be disdainful, she suspected there would be little any of them could do but smile as bravely as they could and count the minutes until it was all over.

They were greeted at the door by a tall and rather impressive-looking butler and shown into the elaborate Chinese drawing room. Linette had already informed them that Mr Taylor intended on having all of the reception rooms redone and that he had decided to start with this, the largest of the saloons. Emma, whose eye was always drawn to line and colour, paused on the threshold, impressed by the elegant proportions and by the deep crimson and gold colour scheme. Fire-breathing dragons and sword-wielding warriors were prominent throughout the room and the furnishings were Oriental in design. Two magnificent black-lacquer cabinets with ornate battle scenes hand painted in gold and crimson stood on either side of the long window.

The Countess of Widdicombe was seated on a red-velvet chair by the fireplace, hands folded calmly in her lap. She was a regal-looking woman, still relatively young, with a smooth, unlined complexion and glossy black hair artfully arranged in an elegant coiffure. Wearing a gown of rich crimson silk, she seemed almost an accessory to the room, her elegance and grace very much in keeping with her surroundings.

Emma thought she would have looked a great deal friendlier had she troubled herself to smile, but apparently smiles were not required of a countess when meeting a prospective daughter-in-law and her family for the first time.

Two other men occupied the room and stood on either side of the fireplace like mismatched bookends. Emma recognised Peter Taylor at once and, though he was not the kind of man that appealed to her, she could well understand Linette’s attraction to him. He was not overly tall, but his slenderness conveyed the impression of height and the combined skills of his tailor and valet did the rest. His thick, nut-brown hair tapered neatly to his collar, and with quite the most charming smile Emma had ever seen and a demeanour that was totally without arrogance, he reminded her of an anxious puppy, desperate to be loved by one and all.

The other man, who was clearly too young to be the earl, was obviously the eldest son, Viscount Stewart. Lord Stewart towered over his younger brother by a good four inches and possessed the kind of looks that would invariably send young girls swooning. Thick black hair, luxurious as sable, was swept back from a broad forehead already tanned by the warm spring sun. His jaw was square, his mouth full lipped and sensual, his lashes dark under even darker brows.

Only his eyes were light, the clear, cornflower blue seemingly at odds with the rest of his appearance.

But where was Lord Widdicombe? Surely he should be here to greet his son’s intended bride and her family?

‘Mr Darling, I am so pleased you were able to come,’ Peter Taylor said, quickly stepping forwards. ‘Mother, may I present Mr Darling and his family.’

As Lady Widdicombe inclined her head, Emma studied her face for some indication as to what she was feeling. But apart from a slight stiffness of manner, there was nothing to indicate either pleasure or resentment. ‘Good evening, Mr Darling. I do not believe you have met my eldest son, Lord Stewart?’

‘I have not, Lady Widdicombe, but I am very pleased to do so.’ Mr Darling bowed to both the countess and the heir, and then turned to introduce the members of his own family. ‘May I present my sister, Mrs Grand, my eldest daughter, Emma, and, of course, my youngest daughter, Linette.’

‘Mrs Grand, Miss Darling,’ the countess said, her gaze resting on each of them for a moment. ‘And Miss Linette Darling. Step forwards, child.’

Linette did, her cheeks taking on a deeper-pink hue as she moved closer to the countess’s chair. Stopping a few feet in front of her, she executed a graceful curtsy.

The countess nodded her approval. ‘How old are you, child?’

‘Seventeen, your ladyship.’

‘Seventeen. And you think you can make my son happy.’

‘Of course she will make me happy, Mother,’ Mr Taylor said, springing to Linette’s defence. ‘That is why—’

His mother’s upraised hand silenced him. ‘My question was addressed to Miss Linette, Peter. Kindly allow her to answer.’

All eyes swung back to Linette, who suddenly looked like the sacrificial lamb being led to the slaughter. ‘I … I—’

‘Speak up, child. I’m not going to eat you.’

‘Of course not, Mother, but judging from the look of terror in Miss Linette’s eyes, I’m not sure she believes you.’

It was Lord Stewart who spoke, the rich timbre of his voice drawing every eye in the room. He stepped away from the fireplace and offered Linette a surprisingly friendly smile. ‘Good evening, Miss Linette. We are very pleased to welcome you and your family to Ellingsworth Hall.’ His voice was low and deep, the tone undeniably reassuring.

Linette visibly relaxed. ‘Th-thank you, Lord Stewart.’

‘I regret that my father is not able to be with us this evening, but his health is not the best and it was necessary that he remain in London for a few days.’

‘We are very sorry to hear that, my lord,’ Mr Darling said in a tone of mingled relief and regret. Obviously, he too had been wondering at the reason behind the earl’s absence. ‘I hope he will be recovered in time for the coming festivities.’

‘We certainly hope that will be the case,’ Lord Stewart said. ‘The doctor has advised a period of rest before resuming his social obligations. Especially one of this consequence.’

‘Will there be … a lot of people in attendance?’ Linette asked nervously.

‘Indeed, most everyone has written to say they will be here,’ Lady Widdicombe replied. ‘I had my doubts about Lord and Lady Martindale, but their acceptance arrived yesterday, and even Lord and Lady Huffton said they would be willing to leave town for a weekend. Then there will be Sir George and Lady Monk, and of course, the Earl and Countess of Leyland and their daughter, Lady Glynnis Pettle, whom Alexander is soon to marry.’

‘Marry?’ Peter Taylor’s eyebrows rose. ‘I wasn’t aware you’d proposed to Lady Glyn, Alex.’

‘I haven’t,’ Lord Stewart said with a speaking glance at his mother.

‘But we all know it is only a matter of time.’ Lady Widdicombe turned to Emma’s father with a complacent smile. ‘There has been an understanding between the families for some time. Lady Glynnis’s father is the Earl of Leyland and her mother the former Lady Georgiana Croft, daughter of the Marquis of Tunney. It is an excellent match.’

Mr Darling and Aunt Dorothy both offered dutiful murmurs of approval and Lady Widdicombe looked suitably appeased. Emma, who was not impressed by the countess’s reluctance to appear as welcoming towards Linette as she was to this other unknown lady, rolled her eyes, only to flush when she caught Lord Stewart watching her.

‘Miss Darling,’ he said, his gaze moving over her so quickly she felt a draught. ‘I would not have taken you for Miss Linette’s sister. The resemblance between you is not immediately discernible.’

‘Pray do not trouble yourself to be polite, Lord Stewart, the resemblance is not discernable after several hours of intense study. Linette has always been the beauty in the family,’ Emma told him. ‘I tend more towards the academic and the practical.’

‘Oh, now, Emma, you are being far too critical of yourself,’ Linette was quick to say. ‘You play the piano, manage the household and paint the most wonderful landscapes.’

‘All at the same time?’ Lord Stewart favoured Emma with a brief smile. ‘A remarkable talent indeed.’

Resisting the impulse to trade sarcasm for sarcasm, Emma said, ‘It no doubt would be if I were able to do all three simultaneously, but I prefer to do them separately and I admit to painting with far more skill than I play.’

‘How unfortunate,’ Lady Widdicombe observed. ‘A lady’s talent on the pianoforte must always be deemed more valuable than her ability to paint. Painting is such a solitary occupation and one cannot socialise when one is alone.’

‘True, but if a lady does not entertain well, surely it is kinder to her audience that she not make the attempt? I would far rather look at a well-executed painting than listen to a poorly played sonata.’

‘Surely the answer is to practise more often, Miss Darling.’

‘Only if there is something to be gained by the effort.’ Emma smiled. ‘Apart from Linette, my family is not particularly gifted in the musical arena.’

The remark was followed by a rather startled silence, leaving Emma to conclude that speaking truthfully about one’s abilities or lack thereof was probably not recommended. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought her father was not the only one who breathed a sigh of relief when dinner was announced a short time later.

Dinner in the baronial dining room was exceptional, though Emma thought eating in the smaller, more intimate family dining room would have been far less intimidating. The great table, which could easily have sat forty, was set with crisp white linens, sparking crystal and the family silver. A magnificent silver epergne graced the centre of the table, while smaller flower arrangements at either end provided a welcome splash of colour against the backdrop of white and silver.

As host, Peter Taylor took his place at the head of the table, with his mother on his right and Linette on his left. Lord Stewart sat to Emma’s right, while her father was on Lady Widdicombe’s right with Aunt Dorothy beside him. And, as expected, the meal was outstanding. A variety of courses, each more tempting than the last, was served by liveried footmen while the butler poured the wine and kept a sharp eye on every servant in the room.

Emma couldn’t help but smile as she thought of Jenks, their man of all trades. A country fellow at best, poor Jenks would have felt decidedly out of place here at Ellingsworth Hall. No doubt the servants below stairs were every bit as intimidating as the lofty family above.

‘Something amuses you, Miss Darling?’

Emma looked up to find Lord Stewart’s blue eyes fixed upon her. ‘Yes, though I doubt anyone but myself would find it so.’

‘How can you know if you do not give us an opportunity to hear it?’

‘Because I learned long ago that while some things are amusing to all, others are not.’ Emma’s gaze moved around the room, touching on the elegant, the beautiful and the priceless. Somehow she knew her musings would definitely fall into the latter category. ‘I am sorry to hear of your father’s illness, Lord Stewart. I hope it is nothing serious.’

‘I’m sure it is not.’ Lord Stewart’s practised smile moved easily into place. ‘The doctor simply advised rest for a few days.’

‘Still, such things are worrisome. While I’m sure the doctor is doing everything he can to speed Lord Widdicombe’s recovery, it always weighs on one’s mind.’

‘As you say.’ He raised his glass and glanced at her over the rim. ‘Will your brother be joining us in two weeks’ time? I understand he is presently studying law at Oxford.’

‘Yes, but we sent word to let him know of the engagement and Ridley has assured us that he will be here in time.’

‘As, hopefully, will Father,’ Peter Taylor said, glancing at his mother. ‘We must have everyone in attendance for such an important occasion. Isn’t that right, Mother?’

Lady Widdicombe looked up and shared a brief glance with her eldest son. After a pause, Lord Stewart said, ‘Of course everyone will be here, Peter. It is, after all, the celebration of your engagement. And, on that note, may I ask you to rise, raise your glasses and join me in a toast,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘To my brother and his lady. May they experience good health, prosperity, and may they always be as happy as they are today.’

Emma dutifully raised her glass. It was not the most romantic of toasts, but perhaps Lord Stewart was not a romantic man. Just because he looked the part didn’t mean he had the temperament to go along with it. She spared a quick glance for her sister, who was smiling blissfully into her fiancé’s eyes and knew Linette didn’t care a whit about flowery tributes or good wishes. She was in love and the man she loved, loved her in return.

Not even the most pedantic of toasts was going to rob her of the pleasure she found in that.

At the conclusion of meal, Lady Widdicombe led the ladies into the elegant Green Saloon, leaving the gentlemen free to enjoy their after-dinner indulgences. Emma, who was decidedly relieved to be away from the probing eyes of Lord Stewart, found the Green Saloon far more to her liking. It was peaceful after the dramatic Chinese room, due no doubt to the absence of snarling dragons and sabre-waving warriors everywhere she turned.

‘Mrs Grand,’ Lady Widdicombe said as she settled into an emerald-green wing chair. ‘You are, I understand, a widow?’

‘Yes. My husband died three years ago.’

‘So you now live with your brother and take care of his family?’

‘Oh, no, your ladyship. I live in London with a companion. I’m not one for country life,’ Aunt Dorothy admitted. ‘I prefer the hustle and bustle of town. Always something going on and plenty of shops to spend your time and your money in. But I try to come down at least twice a year to be with my brother and his family.’

‘I see. Then I take it you, Miss Darling, have the responsibility of running the house and looking after your siblings,’ the countess said.

Emma smiled. ‘I look after the housekeeping and the accounts, and I take care of Papa and Linette as best I can, but my brother, Ridley, is presently away at Oxford and quite able to look after himself.’

‘And neither you nor your brother is married.’

‘No.’

The countess turned to regard Aunt Dorothy again. ‘Is it not unusual, Mrs Grand, for a younger daughter to be settled in marriage before the older son and daughter have made a suitable match?’

‘I suppose it is, your ladyship.’

‘Am I to assume, then, that Miss Darling has not been to London?’

The older woman’s cheeks coloured. ‘I believe she has.’

‘But obviously met with no success.’

‘On the contrary, I was most successful,’ Emma said, having had enough of people talking about her as though she wasn’t in the room. ‘I spent a good deal of time at the British Museum and, by the time I left, I had sketched nearly the entire contents of the Egyptian wing and made a decent start on ancient Greece.’

The comment was clearly unexpected and the resultant look of surprise on Lady Widdicombe’s face prompted Aunt Dorothy to say, ‘Emma is quite gifted when it comes to drawing, Lady Widdicombe. Her sketches of the Elgin Marbles were really quite astonishing.’

‘Indeed.’ Lady Widdicombe turned her attention to Linette, obviously finding Emma’s achievements less than noteworthy. ‘Miss Linette, are you able to play the pianoforte?’

‘I am, Lady Widdicombe.’

‘Then pray be good enough to entertain us.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Linette quickly got up and moved to the instrument. ‘Oh! A Broadwood grand piano.’

‘Yes. Peter had it brought down from London.’ Pride resonated in the countess’s voice. ‘He plays exquisitely.’

Linette ran her fingers lightly over the keys, picking out a simple tune. ‘What a lovely sound. Emma, you must come and turn the pages for me.’

Dutifully, Emma got up and joined her sister.

‘What shall I play?’ Linette whispered. ‘I am so nervous.’

‘You have nothing to be nervous about.’ Emma calmly flipped through the sheets of music on the platform and pulled one out. ‘You play beautifully and your voice is that of an angel. And here is one of your favourite pieces.’

‘“Greensleeves,”’ Linette said, relieved. ‘Yes, I shall be able to do justice to that.’

She began to play and though Emma dutifully watched her progress so as not to miss turning the page at the appropriate time, she did risk an occasional glance at Lady Widdicombe to see if she was enjoying the performance. She hadn’t missed the ambivalence in the countess’s attitude towards Linette. While she wasn’t precisely hostile, neither was she warmly welcoming. Fortunately, she seemed to appreciate Linette’s skill on the pianoforte. She actually closed her eyes once or twice during the performance and was gracious in showing her appreciation at the end.

‘Very nice, Miss Linette. You play tolerably well and have a very pleasant singing voice.’

‘Thank you, Lady Widdicombe.’

‘Of course, both would be improved by regular practice. I would advise you to take the required time during each day to do so.’

‘Yes, Lady Widdicombe.’

‘And now, it is Miss Darling’s turn to entertain us,’ the countess said. ‘Unless she feels it will be too embarrassing for her.’

Emma smiled. Had Lady Widdicombe not tossed in that last line, she might have gracefully demurred. But never one to back away from a challenge, she sat down on the bench recently vacated by her sister and said, ‘I do have one or two tolerable pieces in my repertoire. I simply shall not sing for that would be most humbling after Linette’s performance. And I doubt that would be improved if I were to practise every hour of every day from now until I died.’

Lady Widdicombe said nothing, allowing Emma a brief moment of victory. The countess might be able to tell Linette what she should and should not do, but she certainly wasn’t going to exert the same influence over her. One had to draw the line somewhere.

It would have been a great deal better, Emma reflected later, had she been the first to perform and Linette the second. Because by the time Linette had taken Emma’s vacant seat next to Aunt Dorothy and Emma was ready to play, the door opened again and the gentlemen walked in. And it became immediately evident that no one had been expecting to see her seated at the pianoforte. Emma saw a look of startled pleasure on her father’s face and a slightly more cautious one on Mr Taylor’s.

Lord Stewart’s expression was unreadable. Nor could she glean anything from the tone of his voice, when, moving to stand beside the fireplace, he said, ‘I did not expect you to honour us with a performance, Miss Darling.’

‘I did not say I was unable to play, my lord,’ Emma said evenly. ‘Only that I do not play as well as I paint. Nor do I sing as well as my sister, whose performance you just missed.’

‘Then I hope we may prevail upon Miss Linette to sing for us again. But we should regret not hearing you play first.’

Equally sure he wouldn’t have cared had she left immediately after dinner, Emma turned her attention back to the piano. Normally, she would have quailed at having to perform in front of such dignified company, but having recently discovered a piece by Bach that she liked very much, and having spent more time than usual practising it while at Aunt Augusta’s house, Emma had managed to imprint the score firmly in her mind. Now, after giving herself a few minutes to recall the intricate opening, she placed her fingers upon the keys and began to play.

Music rolled forth. Not sweet and sentimental like Linette’s ‘Greensleeves,’ but strong and powerful, the melody filling the room. It was one of passion and unrequited love, and on the exquisite instrument the notes rang true and clear. For once, Emma forgot about her audience and lost herself in the music. She had never performed on such a marvellous instrument before and she was astonished at how well the piece sounded. As she brought her hands down on the final chords, her heart was beating hard, her exhilaration at having executed the complicated piece without a mistake bringing an unexpected glow of triumph to her cheeks.

There was a moment’s stunned silence. Then, enthusiastic applause broke out as Emma rose to take her bows. She saw a variety of expressions on the faces turned towards her. On her father’s, pride, pure and simple. On her aunt’s, pride mingled with relief, and on Linette’s, astonished admiration. Peter Taylor’s mouth was open and Lady Widdicombe was staring at her in disbelief.

Only Lord Stewart’s expression bore no indication of surprise. ‘You did not tell us the truth of your ability, Miss Darling. Seldom have I heard that piece played better or with more emotion.’

‘Indeed, I believe you were having sport with us, Miss Darling,’ Peter said. ‘I vow she would give Lady Glynnis a run for her money. What say you, Alex?’

‘I’d say Miss Darling could hold her own with anyone,’ he answered evenly. ‘Well done, Miss Darling.’

‘Indeed, Emma, well done!’ Linette said with unconcealed joy.

Emma politely inclined her head, grateful for the praise, but more relieved that she hadn’t made a fool of herself in front of everyone in the room. She’d told herself when she’d sat down at the piano that she had wanted to make a good showing for Linette’s sake and that she hadn’t played the piece to impress anyone, but that wasn’t entirely true.

She had wanted to make a good impression. She had wanted to impress him.

‘Thank you, but it is one of the few pieces I play well,’ she said. ‘As indicated earlier, my repertoire is extremely limited.’

‘If you were only to play that one piece, you would find yourself welcome in any drawing room,’ Lord Stewart said.

The subtle words of praise had Emma raising her eyes to his; something she immediately came to regret. She didn’t want him thinking she cared, any more than she was willing to admit she did.

‘Play something else, Miss Darling,’ Peter implored. ‘You must have at least one other song with which to entertain us.’

‘What about “The Merry Piper”?’ Aunt Dorothy suggested.

Emma nodded. ‘Only if Linette will sing.’

Not surprisingly, Linette was delighted to sing and because they had performed the duet so many times, Emma knew they acquitted themselves well. The music was lovely and Linette’s sweet soprano voice made easy work of the lyrics. At the conclusion, they were again met with enthusiastic applause.

‘I say, the two of you must perform for our guests at the ball,’ Peter said. ‘I don’t believe I have ever heard a lovelier duet.’

‘Nonsense, Peter, musicians have already been engaged,’ his mother said. ‘It is hardly the thing for your … fiancée and her sister to entertain.’

‘In that case, I am delighted we were treated to the performance tonight.’ He moved to stand beside Linette and taking her hand, raised it to his lips. ‘Did I not tell you she was the most beautiful, the most gifted, the most remarkable young lady of my acquaintance?’

Emma hastily averted her eyes from the lovestruck look on her future brother-in-law’s face and promptly locked gazes with Lord Stewart—whose expression was anything but lovestruck. What was he thinking as he watched the pretty scene unfold? That it was hopelessly romantic? An emotional embarrassment? Was he counting the minutes until he could politely slip away? The half-smile on his lips might be one of amusement, but it could just as easily signify boredom or contempt. He didn’t strike Emma as the type of man who would find pleasure in such simple drawing-room entertainments.

‘Well done, dearest,’ Aunt Dorothy whispered as Emma sat back down beside her. ‘Your father and I could not be more proud.’

Emma managed a fleeting smile, aware of being able to breathe a little easier now that the performance was over. But she was far from happy with her silly need to impress Peter’s brother. Of what concern was it to her what he thought of her? The man was attractive, wealthy and heir to an earldom. He was no doubt used to women falling at his feet and to singing his praises in the hopes of attracting his attention.

Emma had no intention of becoming one of those women. She was not some simple-minded female easily swayed by good looks and an impressive title. She judged a man on the strength of his convictions, on the fairness of his mind and on the kindness of his words. What she had seen of Lord Stewart tonight was a man assessing a situation. One who had likely been asked to pass judgement on Linette and possibly on the rest of her family as well. Because when a man married, his bride’s family became his family. Her assets became his assets. And her liabilities became his liabilities.

Was that what Lord Stewart had been sent here to find out? Emma wondered. The extent of the liability his brother was really taking on?