Читать книгу The Regency Season: Ruined Reputations - Mary Brendan - Страница 14

Chapter Six

‘Why don’t you come with me to London?’

While speaking Elise continued folding a lawn petticoat, then packed it away in readiness for departure later that morning. Her maid was attending to the baby’s things, neatly piling them alongside her mistress’s garments in the travelling trunk.

When Beatrice continued cooing at Adam, Elise renewed her effort to persuade her sister to have a sojourn in town. ‘You’ll enjoy the shops in Oxford Street and I’ll introduce you to some nice people.’ She waved aside Bea’s dubious frown. ‘There are some nice ladies, I swear. In fact I’d say some of the matrons in this neighbourhood are worse tattlers...’

‘I can’t think who you might mean,’ Beatrice replied drolly.

‘In any case it is high time you said hello to the Chapmans. Verity would love to see you. She’ll tell you all about the babe she is expecting...’ Elise bit her lip, realising it was insensitive to enthuse over another woman’s marital bliss to a dear sister who had recently been jilted. ‘Fiona is naturally still at home with Mr and Mrs Chapman, and I’m sure she’d adore having your company.’

‘There’s no need to fuss over me, Elise.’ Beatrice raised her eyes from the baby’s rosy face to give her sister a serene smile. ‘I’m better now, honestly, and will bear up here with Papa.’ She held the baby aloft, rolling him to and fro and making him giggle. ‘The shock of it all has been short lived, I assure you. Isn’t that so, Master Adam?’

‘The shock of what, exactly?’ Elise quipped. ‘Seeing Hugh Kendrick or losing your fiancé?’

‘I no longer think of Colin as a loss but as a hazard I avoided.’ Bea got up from the clothes-strewn bed where she’d played with her nephew and handed him to his nurse. Helpfully, she started to assist her sister with packing. She felt her profile growing warm beneath Elise’s determined stare. ‘Oh, all right, I admit Mr Kendrick’s appearance did shake me up a bit. But I’m over that too.’

‘I wasn’t hinting that you should come with me so you might see Hugh again,’ Elise fibbed. She had seen the way the couple had reacted to one another yesterday and it had stirred in her an idea that they might still harbour feelings for one another. Hugh had not taken his eyes off her sister and Bea had certainly not seemed indifferent to him in the way a woman should if an old flame—now completely forgotten—turned up out of the blue.

Following his upturn in fortune Hugh was highly sought after by top hostesses and fond mamas with debutantes to settle, but Elise knew he wasn’t courting any well-bred young lady. Of course she heard the gossip, like everybody else, and knew he associated with female company of a very different class. Although Elise liked Hugh, he was an unashamed philanderer, and that fact dampened her enthusiasm for Beatrice again falling for him. The last thing Elise wanted was for her beloved sister to again have her dreams shattered by a man.

‘I suppose I ought to tell you that Hugh is known as an incorrigible rake who keeps company with demi-reps. I have to admit, though, that Alex’s reputation was vastly embellished upon by excitable ladies before we were wed.’ Elise smiled wryly; she’d not forgotten how jealous she’d felt, hearing about Alex’s paramours.

‘Thank you for the warning,’ Bea said mildly. ‘I’m not surprised to know it; he seems very different now from the man I once knew. Anyhow, his sordid habits and so on are of no interest to me. I don’t care how he spends his time.’

Elise gave her sister an old-fashioned look. ‘You might have sounded a little more convincing, my dear.’

Beatrice raised her eyes heavenward, miming exasperation, making her sister chuckle.

‘Papa won’t mind at all if you stay in town with me for a week or two. Mr and Mrs Francis attend to all his needs—’

‘No...’ Beatrice interrupted, giving her sister a winning smile. ‘But thank you for the invitation.’ She knew what Elise was up to: finding her a replacement for Colin. Although Bea was swayed by an offer to visit dear friends in the metropolis, the idea that Hugh Kendrick might believe she’d followed him home to put herself in his way was terrifying enough to quash the temptation to accept.

Elise huffed in defeat. ‘I don’t know what you are afraid of. I have told you that Papa and I fielded every question that Mrs Callan batted over about your association with Hugh. I made a point of letting them know he had courted our friend Fiona Chapman to put them off the scent.’

‘And I do thank you for it. But I am not afraid, Elise, of gossip or of Hugh Kendrick.’ Bea knew that was not quite truthful and hastened on. ‘So, I will remain here, quite content, though I pray your mother-in-law will recover.’ Bea looked reflective. ‘She was very kind to us at your wedding reception and made sure Papa and I had servants dancing attendance on us. She introduced us to so many people, and Papa was glad to renew his acquaintance with her that day. He told me he had liked her late husband too.’

‘Susannah is a dear soul...’ Elise frowned, folding linen with renewed vigour. ‘I must quickly get back and visit her. I’m sure the doctor is right, though, and she’s already on the mend.’

Beatrice comforted her sister with a hug. ‘She will be fine, Elise. The dowager will be up and about again in no time...’

* * *

‘I should like to attend.’

‘Are you feeling up to the journey, Papa?’ Beatrice asked in concern.

The post had arrived just ten minutes ago. Alex’s bold black script had been on one of many letters Bea, with heavy heart, had brought to her father’s study. Walter had opened it at once. There had been a note for her too, from Elise, but Beatrice had slipped that into the pocket of her skirt and would read it later.

The other letters, she surmised, were replies from the guests who’d been informed by her father last week that the wedding would not be taking place. She recognised Mr Chapman’s hand, and also that of her Aunt Dolly on two of the five sealed parchments. Bea felt sure all would contain messages of sympathy and encouragement for her, but she didn’t yet want to know about any of it.

Neither did Walter, it seemed. Bea’s father left untouched the pile of post and continued sighing and polishing his glasses with his handkerchief.

‘Are you sure the journey will not excessively tire you?’ Beatrice rephrased her question in an attempt to draw her father’s attention.

‘I will bear a few discomforts to pay my respects to Susannah Blackthorne.’ Walter dabbed a handkerchief at his watering eyes. He put his glasses on, then held up Alex’s letter so he might again scan the sad news that his son-in-law’s mother had passed away. The funeral was to be held in a few days’ time and Alex had offered to send his coach for Walter and Beatrice so they might join the mourners at Blackthorne Hall. He had added that he hoped very much they would attend as his mother had enquired after the two of them only recently.

‘You will come as well, my dear, won’t you? I should not like to travel alone.’ Walter raised hopeful eyes to his daughter.

‘Of course I shall come with you, Papa!’ Beatrice replied. ‘I would not want to miss it.’

Walter nodded, content. ‘I shall write a reply and get Norman to quickly despatch it to Berkshire. I don’t like imposing on the viscount’s generosity but we must accept the use of his transport.’

‘Alex will be cross if you do not! I expect he and Elise are feeling very low and will be glad to see us as soon as maybe.’

‘As a family we lately seem to be in the doldrums more often than not.’ Walter dropped the letter to the desk, drawing forward his quill and a plain parchment. ‘Susannah was a very vivacious woman...and more than ten years my junior.’ He dipped the pen into ink. ‘I’m getting quite ancient now...’

‘Don’t be so maudlin, Papa!’ Beatrice dropped a light kiss on the top of her father’s sparsely covered crown. ‘You are a mere spring chicken.’

She could tell he was feeling quite depressed at the news of the dowager’s death. Bea had noticed that as he aged her father acted increasingly sentimental when hearing about sad or happy events.

As Walter’s quill began scratching on paper she turned for the door, informing him, ‘I’ll start to pack a few things.’

Beatrice took down her carpetbag from the top of the clothes press. She blew dust off it and set it on her bed’s coverlet. It seemed she would be taking a trip to stay with her sister after all, but glumly wished something nicer had prompted it.

* * *

As the viscount’s well-sprung travelling coach bounced over a rut the letter in Bea’s hand fluttered from her fingers to the hide seat. She retrieved it and recommenced reading. It had arrived that morning, before she and her papa had set on the road for Berkshire, and had been sent by Fiona Chapman. Bea had known the identity of the sender as soon as she spied her name written in elegant sloping script. But it had only been moments ago when her papa, seated opposite, ceased chattering and started dozing that she’d drawn her friend’s note from her reticule and unsealed it.

As expected, the message bore very kind and sincere wishes to boost her morale following her jilting. Bea had already received fulsome sympathy from Aunt Dolly and Fiona’s father. Walter had shown to her the letter from Mr Chapman and Bea had had to smile at Anthony’s robust defence of her reputation. In his honest opinion Walter’s daughter was too good for the physician in any case, and the whole matter was a blessing in disguise for Beatrice. Anthony had emphasised that observation with a very large and forceful exclamation mark that had punctured the paper.

‘My sentiments exactly,’ Walter had barked, perking up on reading it. Then he’d promptly helped himself to port from the decanter on the edge of his desk.

But now, as Beatrice’s blue gaze landed on the final paragraph of Fiona’s letter, she gasped at the startling news it contained. Mr Kendrick, Fiona wrote, had put a flea in Colin Burnett’s ear over vulgarly flaunting his new fiancée before anybody in town had been given the news that he’d jilted his former bride-to-be. Bea’s eyes sped on over the paper. The clash had taken place at her sister Verity’s home, Fiona informed her, and Mr Kendrick had threatened, very discreetly—Fiona had underlined those two words—to throw the doctor out if he didn’t go before people started asking awkward questions. Colin had bowed to Mr Kendrick’s dictate and slunk off with his tail between his legs, Fiona penned in conclusion, before signing off with affection and good wishes.

Beatrice felt her heart thudding in consternation and her cheeks glowing despite the breeze from the window. The last thing she’d wanted was any fuss about the affair, because it would be sure to give an impression that she was bitter and jealous over it all. And whereas for a short while those emotions had overtaken her, they had now faded away. Or so she’d thought...

Beatrice slowly reread that ultimate paragraph. She was irked that Colin could treat her so shabbily when less than a month ago he’d said it was her he loved and would marry if only he could. She pondered then on Stella, and whether the girl was pretty, and if Colin had quickly fallen in love with her.

In which case, Beatrice impatiently scolded herself, he is the most dishonest and fickle man alive and you should pray you never again are foolish enough to be taken in by his like.

Having mentally shaken herself, she turned her thoughts to Hugh Kendrick. So he had championed her, had he? She wondered why that was. Their recent meeting had been frosty, if civil. She stared through the coach window and twisted a smile at the passing scenery. Perhaps the aim of his gallant intervention had been to impress Fiona. Beatrice recalled that he had courted her friend a few years ago; perhaps Mr Kendrick was of a mind to do so once more as they were both still single and Fiona was a minor heiress. At her sister’s wedding reception Hugh had partnered Fiona in the ballroom and Bea recalled thinking they had looked happy together...

Bea folded the note without again looking at it, putting it back into her reticule, then rested her head against the squabs. Behind her drooping lids two couples were dancing and laughing. The gentlemen had both once professed to want her as a wife. Beatrice huffed a sigh, wishing for a nap to overcome her so she might have a respite from her irritating fantasies.

Wearily she again watched the verdant landscape flashing past, but the same thoughts were haunting her mind. Colin and Stella would be the first to get married: no long engagement for him this time, as he now had enough money to set up home immediately. If Hugh Kendrick were intending to propose to Fiona, and her friend were to accept him, Bea would make sure she was one of the first to send congratulations...

‘You are sighing louder than the wind outside.’ Walter had one eye open and was watching his daughter’s restless movements from beneath a thick wiry brow.

‘It is rather gusty...’ Bea pulled the blind across the window to protect the coach interior from draughts.

‘Have you read your letter?’

‘Mmm...’ Bea guessed her father was keen to hear what was in it.

‘I have lately shared my missives from London with you,’ Walter wheedled, giving her a twinkling smile.

Beatrice smiled, swayed by his mischievous manner. ‘Oh, very well... Fiona Chapman has written to me more or less echoing her father’s thoughts on Dr Burnett.’

‘Oh...is that it? No other news?’ Walter queried. He’d watched his daughter from between his sparse lashes while she’d been reading and had been sure he’d heard a muted cry of dismay. Not wanting to immediately pry, he’d waited till she seemed more herself before letting her know he was awake.

Walter had felt very protective of Beatrice since the doctor had broken her heart. The more she put a brave face on it, the more he desperately wanted to make it all come right for her. He’d guessed the cause of her distress was reading about some antic of Burnett’s reported in her letter.

‘I’ve just had news that Colin turned up at Verity’s house, but it was made clear he was unwelcome, so he left.’

Walter struggled to sit upright. ‘Did he, by Jove?’ Gleefully he banged his cane on the floor of the coach, grunting a laugh.

Bea nodded, suppressing a smile at her father’s delight on hearing about her erstwhile fiancé’s humiliation. ‘Miss Rawlings was there too.’

Walter thumped the cane again, in anger this time. ‘How dare he treat you like that? Damned impertinence he’s got, squiring another woman so soon. I’ve a mind to bring it to his notice.’

‘I believe Mr Kendrick has beaten you to it, Papa...’

‘So it was that fellow, was it?’ Walter nodded. ‘That’s twice he’s done us a favour in a short space of time. Hugh Kendrick has just gone up considerably in my estimation. I suppose I must find an opportunity to tell him so.’ He grimaced, remembering how rude he’d recently been to Hugh.

Beatrice settled back into the seat, niggling anxieties again assailing her. Just how much of a good deed had Mr Kendrick done her? She feared that embarrassing rumours about the jilting might even now be circulating, and would only be worsened by talk of two gentlemen—both past loves of hers—arguing in public over her.