A Country Gentleman (18 page)

‘But you have only been home for five minutes,’ Lavinia responded. ‘It hardly seems fair.’ At that moment, they heard the sound of the front doorbell.

‘Perhaps Miss Wheatman has come back early,’ said the countess hopefully. They left Lavinia’s chamber and walked along the passage, descending the stairs just as the butler was admitting a caller. As they stood at the top of the flight, they looked down, just as the visitor looked up. He was dressed for travelling in the finest London fashion.

‘Lord Riseholm!’ Lavinia gasped.

Riseholm executed an elegant bow. ‘Your servant, Lady Thurlby. And Miss … Muir, is it not? Your pardon for intruding, but as I was in the area, I thought that I might call.’

‘That is very civil of you, my lord,’ said Lady Thurlby descending the stairs, and giving the earl her hand as he bowed again. ‘Allow me to show you into the drawing room, so that I may offer you some refreshment.’

‘You are very gracious,’ Riseholm responded, following his
hostess after she had asked the butler to bring wine. ‘Particularly since we barely know one another.’

‘Which makes your courtesy in visiting us all the greater,’ the countess responded, receiving a gracious inclination of the head by way of reply. ‘Is this the first time that you have visited Lincolnshire, Lord Riseholm? Your own estates are in Shropshire, I believe. You must find this countryside rather flat in comparison.’

‘As far as I recall,’ he answered, taking the seat that she
indicated
, and crossing his legs, after laying his hat and cane on the floor next to his chair. ‘I do not go there very frequently, madam. Unlike your son, I am not a squire by nature.’

The countess’s smile did not reach her eyes. ‘I know how to be a good hostess, Lord Riseholm,’ she said. ‘But speak of my son with the slightest disrespect, and I shall show you the door.’

Lavinia looked at the other lady in amazement. Never had she seen her godmother look so haughty!

‘I intended no disrespect, I assure you,’ Riseholm replied. ‘I was merely attempting to point out the differences between your son and myself – differences which I am very well aware show him to great advantage.’

The countess inclined her head. ‘I accept your explanation,’ she said, as the butler brought in the wine, together with a jug of lemonade. ‘Will you be good enough to pour, my lord?’

‘You honour me,’ he answered, rising fluidly to his feet and crossing to the sideboard where the butler had placed the tray. ‘Wine for you, ma’am, or do you prefer lemonade?’

Lavinia listened to all these politenesses with gathering
irritation
, and barely managed to accept a glass of lemonade from the earl without snapping at him. The shock of his arrival had been sufficient to push everything else to the back of her mind. Now, she asked herself what could have brought him into the heart of the country. She suspected that he was simply there to torment Isobel in some way. Whatever his reasons, the urgency of her errand became greater with every passing moment, and she was
now anxious to be on her way. On the surface, the countess did not appear to be concerned at all; but when Lavinia darted a glance at her as the earl returned to his own place, she frowned and shook her head slightly. She had not forgotten, then.

‘And what brings you to this part of the world, Lord Riseholm?’ Lady Thurlby asked him. ‘My understanding was that you spent most of your time in London.’

‘That is so,’ Riseholm replied after he had sat down. ‘However, a recent letter from an acquaintance reminded me of what I had been missing. Have you been having an agreeable stay, Miss Muir?’

‘Yes, very agreeable, thank you,’ Lavinia replied, determinedly hiding her impatience.

‘My goddaughter is being too kind,’ Lady Thurlby interrupted. ‘I have been obliged to neglect her for a little when I was called to the bedside of a sick friend.’

‘You did not have to leave her here alone, I trust,’ murmured the earl, before taking another sip of wine.

‘Oh no,’ Lady Thurlby answered. ‘My neighbour Miss Wheatman came to take my place.’

There was a brief silence before the earl said, ‘That was indeed fortunate.’ He paused. ‘This little fencing match has been entertaining in its way, my lady, but perhaps it is time that I was a little more direct. I believe that you also have a young lady staying here by the name of Isobel Macclesfield, with whom I am acquainted. I would be glad if I could pay my respects.’

‘Isobel is not here,’ Lavinia said, unable to keep silent any longer.

‘No doubt she is off being squired about the countryside by the young clergyman she is rumoured to be seeing,’ he murmured.

‘Mr Ames?’ exclaimed the countess.

By a strange coincidence, at this moment, the door opened. ‘Miss Tasker and Mr Ames,’ the butler announced.

‘Caroline! Oh, thank goodness,’ Lavinia exclaimed
involuntarily 
whilst Lady Thurlby busied herself with introducing Lord Riseholm to the newcomers.

‘Mr Ames,’ said Lord Riseholm, with a flourishing bow. ‘May I congratulate you on your engagement?’ The earl’s expression was everything that was appropriate to the sentiments that he was expressing, but his eyes looked cold and empty.

Mr Ames responded by saying ‘You are very kind, my lord. I am a fortunate man.’

Lavinia happened to be looking at Riseholm at this moment, and she noticed a strangely blank look cross his face before he said, ‘You are indeed. I know the lady slightly, and she is certainly a prize.’

‘Why, so do I think so,’ answered Mr Ames, glancing warmly at Caroline.

‘You are very kind in your sentiments, my lord,’ said Caroline. ‘But I must confess that I do not recall meeting you before.’

Riseholm glanced from one to the other. ‘This is the lady to whom you are engaged?’ he said, frowning slightly.

‘It is,’ Ames answered.

‘You are not, then, engaged to Miss Macclesfield?’

‘No indeed,’ the clergyman answered hastily. ‘Nor was there ever any prospect of my being engaged to her. Miss Tasker and I were betrothed before the young lady arrived in the district.’

The earl looked at him, then began to chuckle. ‘Of course you were,’ he said.

‘Your meaning, my lord?’ said Mr Ames, lifting his chin.

‘Dear me, I appear to be very maladroit today,’ said Riseholm mournfully. ‘I do not seem to be able to meet anyone without almost immediately giving them offence. Perhaps I should instantly excuse myself.’ He turned to Lady Thurlby. ‘Would you kindly have the goodness to inform Miss Macclesfield that I called when she returns? I have taken rooms at the George in Stamford and shall do myself the honour of calling upon her another day. Your servant, ma’am.’

Lavinia looked at the countess. ‘Aunt Phyllis?’ she said. Lady Thurlby made a gesture of assent. ‘Isobel has gone,’ she said, turning back to Riseholm.

‘Yes, so you told me earlier,’ he replied. ‘That is why I am now sending her my compliments as I take my leave.’

‘No, you don’t understand,’ said Lavinia urgently. ‘She has gone – eloped.’

There was a brief silence, broken only by exclamations from Miss Tasker and Mr Ames. ‘Presumably with some gentleman whose identity is unknown to me,’ said Lord Riseholm, picking an infinitesimal piece of fluff from his sleeve. ‘In that case, you will probably not see Miss Macclesfield in order to pass on my
compliments
. I will take my leave of you. Pray wish her joy on my behalf.’

‘No!’ cried Lavinia, hurrying to lay a hand on his arm. ‘She will be miserable. Who would not be, if they were called Izzy Twizzle? You must help me to rescue her.’

‘Forgive my obtuseness, but ladies do not normally need rescuing when they are eloping,’ said the earl, his tone hardening a little. ‘I am not her father. It is not my place to drag her home when her choice is made.’

‘But it is not made,’ Lavinia replied. ‘It … she …’ She thrust Isobel’s letter at him. ‘You had better read for yourself,’ she said.

He took the letter and ran his eye over its contents. His face gave little away, but it seemed to Lavinia as if some of the
hardness
around his mouth disappeared, particularly as he reached the last paragraph. ‘You said that you intended to go after her,’ he said, his tone lacking some of its customary languor.

‘Yes, I do,’ she replied. ‘And if you will not help me, I shall go alone.’

‘No you won’t,’ said Caroline. ‘We’ll come with you, won’t we, Timothy?’

‘Yes, of course,’ replied Ames without hesitation.

‘I’ll send for the carriage from the stables,’ said Lady Thurlby, getting up in order to ring the bell.

‘No need,’ said Riseholm, stepping between her and the
bell-pull
. ‘I have only driven over from Stamford. My carriage is ready and my team is fresh.’

Before they left, Lady Thurlby said to Lavinia ‘I’ll tell Victor where you’ve gone.’

‘Good,’ said Lavinia, tying her bonnet ribbons with decision. She had forgotten briefly how angry she was with Lord Thurlby. Now she remembered. ‘You can tell him that I have run off with Lord Riseholm.’

Lady Thurlby smiled mischievously as Riseholm’s horses pulled the carriage away from the front door and set off at a smart trot.

Chapter Eighteen

F
or Benjamin Twizzle, the discovery that Isobel had been conducting an illicit correspondence with Rake Riseholm had been a real piece of luck. The notion of blackmailing Isobel had struck him as being an excellent way of providing himself with the means of getting out of a tight situation.

Isobel’s feelings on being exploited in this manner did not greatly concern him. He knew her to be an heiress with a comfortable if not a handsome fortune, and felt sure that she could easily spare something in order to solve his problems. Her protestations that she did not have any money to hand were seen by him to be flimsy excuses. Rich people could always manage to find money if they needed to do so.

Isobel’s willingness to flirt with him had convinced him that she did not regard the business of the money with any degree of seriousness. He, too, was very willing to indulge in a flirtation but he never lost sight of the chief object of the exercise. This, of course, was to extract himself from the nightmare situation in which the threat of retribution in the person of Mr Nightshade always seemed to be around the corner.

Just the night before Lord Thurlby returned home with his mother, something very alarming had happened; two of Mr Nightshade’s bully boys had actually caught up with Benjamin outside the Horseshoe. They had made it quite clear that their
master’s patience was not inexhaustible and that he expected to be paid without delay. Just as things were starting to look gloomy, even to one of Mr Twizzle’s disposition, he had had the bright idea of mentioning his ‘betrothed’, the heiress.

‘Oh yes, and why didn’t you mention this
heiress
before, then?’ one of them had asked, nodding to the other who had pinned Benjamin up against the back wall of the inn. The man had released him suddenly, causing him almost to lose his footing.

Twizzle had straightened his cuffs, trying not to show how his hands were shaking. ‘I didn’t want to drag her into all this,’ he had replied with a reasonable performance of carelessness. ‘Besides, if her family hear that I’m a gambler, the wedding’ll be off and then you’ll get nothing at all.’

‘Maybe so,’ the first man had said after a moment’s thought. The two men had held a low-voiced conversation, whilst keeping Benjamin well in their sights. ‘I’ll have to ask Mr Nightshade about this,’ the same man had said eventually. ‘Come here tomorrow evening at this time.’

‘And no double-crossing, or you’ll be the worse for it,’ the other had warned, before the two of them had swaggered away.

After this unsettling encounter, Benjamin had therefore come to his meeting with Isobel at Thurlby Hall determined to get her to part with some money, or at least some jewellery.

To his dismay, when he met her in the gardens that day, she seemed very disturbed and, more importantly, she had no money. ‘Nor will I have any more, so it is useless to expect it,’ she said, wringing her hands.

‘But you must have some jewels,’ he protested.

‘Well, I do not,’ she replied, not entirely truthfully. Most of her jewels, it was true, were in London in Mrs Wilbraham’s safe, that lady having refused to release them for fear that her charge would use them as a means to run off with some undesirable character. The only jewels she had with her were the pearls that had
belonged to her mother. Not for anything would she reveal the existence of those.

‘Then in that case, I will have to disclose what I know,’ he replied, thinking of Mr Nightshade.

‘Oh, go on then,’ she said wretchedly. ‘Disclose what you like, and see if I care. Nobody could possibly think any worse of me than they do now, not even if I were to do something utterly outrageous, like eloping.’ She stopped speaking; then, as the words that she had said sunk in, she glanced at him sideways.

‘Oh no,’ he said backing away.

‘Yes,’ she replied, pursuing him. ‘Just think of the benefits.’

‘Which are…?’

‘I will be able to lay my hands on a great deal of money straight away,’ she answered. ‘It comes to me without conditions when I am twenty-one, or when I marry, whichever is the sooner.’

‘No conditions at all?’ he asked suspiciously. ‘You don’t even need anyone’s consent to inherit?’ On one previous occasion, he had come perilously close to getting married, only to find that the young lady in question would forfeit every penny of her estate if she married without her guardian’s approval.

‘Oh no,’ she assured him blithely, quite unaware whether or not this was the truth. ‘Just think; you will have all you need.’

‘Yes, perhaps I might,’ he answered, regarding her suspiciously. ‘But what’s in it for you?’

‘I should like to be a married lady,’ she answered with a toss of her head. ‘People can’t tell you off and bully you if you are married.’

Benjamin Twizzle had not set out that day with the intention of eloping. With Nightshade on his heels, Lord Thurlby’s possible wrath to face, and no prospect of any money from any other source, it seemed that it might be the very thing. What was more, the idea of being in a position so that no one would bully him seemed to be very desirable at that moment. ‘By Jove, so they can’t,’ he murmured, his expression lightening. ‘But how to do the thing?’

‘I have an idea,’ she answered after a moment’s thought. ‘Meet me at the Horseshoe in an hour, and bespeak us a carriage and pair.’

If Lord Thurlby did not feel any more cheerful after his ride, at least the first heat of his anger was gone, to be replaced by a kind of heart-sore weariness. For several years after the girl he had once loved had shown her true colours at Folkingham, he had kept his heart very tightly under wraps. If he were honest, that might have been in part why he had avoided London so
determinedly
. Others in his position, such as Lord Riseholm, for instance, would no doubt have cultivated the female sex in a cynical way, spreading heartbreak in return. Thurlby had remained on his estate, saving his affection for his mother, his friendship for a select group in the local area, and giving his time to the cultivation of his acres. He had always known that he must marry to continue the family line. Of the kind of woman that he might marry he had not thought a great deal, save that he must be content to think of her occupying his mother’s place.

Remembering Lavinia’s disastrous visit several years before, he had been very suspicious of her, especially considering the unconventional nature of her arrival. Even while he still disapproved of her, however, he could not help observing how pretty and womanly she had become. As time went on, his respect for her had grown as he had seen her make a friend of an ordinary schoolmistress, and show kindness to an older spinster lady. He had taken pleasure in watching her becoming familiar with his dog, his home and his garden. He had gradually come to realize that his name and his title were of less importance than having her for his own, admitting to himself at last that he wanted her at Thurlby Hall on a permanent basis as his wife.

He had escorted his mother home, full of hope, only to have it destroyed utterly by the discovery that Lavinia’s attachment to Riseholm continued. He had confronted her with this, and she
had given him no explanation of her behaviour. Then he had seized her and kissed her in order to punish her.

Furious with her and almost as furious with himself for his lack of restraint, he had thrust her aside and gone for a long ride. He knew that he must get right away from her, otherwise he would be in severe danger of saying or doing something that he might regret. Fool that he was, part of him actually wanted simply to throw himself at her feet and to tell her that he loved her anyway and that none of it mattered, because without her beside him as his countess, life would be dry and meaningless.

As he returned his weary horse to its stable, he spoke a curt word of thanks to his groom – surprising the man by his unusual lack of courtesy – and walked slowly towards the house, his whole posture that of a man twenty years older. He looked around him without pleasure. It was the first time that he could ever remember viewing his home and its surroundings in such a way.

It was only when he was actually standing with his hand on the handle of the side door, ready to go in, that it suddenly occurred to him that Lavinia would still be there. His heart gave a lurch. ‘Fool!’ he said out loud. ‘No doubt she’ll be off to be with Riseholm at the first opportunity.’ Then he remembered that she had consistently denied corresponding with his rakeship. On the other hand, the landlord, who had no reason to lie to him, had said that all the letters from Mrs Hedges had been for Riseholm, and all the letters that came for the same lady had been franked across the corner. It had been Lavinia who had masqueraded as Mrs Hedges.

His expression hardened again, as he opened the door. Lilly, who had heard his approach long before anyone else, came
clattering
along the passage, her tail wagging furiously as she jumped up to greet the master who had been gone for so long. He bent to stroke her head and pull her silky ears. All at once, he
remembered
Lavinia petting the dog not long after her arrival. Lilly had
taken to Lavinia at once. He frowned. He had always believed that dogs knew good from bad. Maybe in this, as in so many other things, he had been mistaken.

He walked slowly to his study with Lilly at his heels. He was aware that first he ought to go upstairs and change his dress after his strenuous ride. The way he was feeling, however, he did not much care if he never changed his clothes ever again.

Once inside with the door closed, he poured himself a large glass of brandy and walked over to the desk. There was a piece of paper folded on the blotter, with his name on it, clearly having been written in haste.

Briefly, he hesitated. Was this from Lavinia? Had she gone to Riseholm’s arms, leaving him a note informing him in what utter contempt she held him? Telling himself that he was a clot to
speculate
when all he had to do was to open the paper and read its contents, he picked it up and unfolded it, staring at the words written there, clearly scrawled in haste.

His hand went to the drawer where he always kept an amount of money to cover all ordinary occasions. The drawer was slightly opened, the lock forced, and a roll of notes had been taken. Isobel, he thought; it was Isobel. Suddenly, a lot of things began to become plain. Actions that had seemed utterly out of character when attributed to Lavinia became perfectly comprehensible when laid at Isobel’s door.

Putting down his glass, still half full, he strode to the door, quite taking Lilly by surprise. The greyhound had settled down flat on her side on the hearth rug, and only just made it out of the door before her master closed it behind him.

Without a thought for the propriety of his actions, he ran up
the main staircase, two at a time, followed by Lilly, who thought this tremendous sport, headed straight for Lavinia’s room and knocked on the door, calling out her name at the same time.

‘She’s not there,’ said his mother, coming up behind him.

Thurlby lost a little of his colour. ‘Not there?’ he said.

She shook her head, sighing. ‘Oh Victor, you can be so
pig-headed
at times.’

‘You don’t mean that she’s gone; she’s left?’

Deciding that he deserved to suffer a little for his rash
assumptions
, her ladyship said, ‘That is exactly what I do mean.’

‘Because of what I said?’ He demanded. ‘God, I wish I had cut out my tongue before—’

‘The number of times I have heard your father say the same,’ Lady Thurlby remarked. She paused, not wanting to tell an untruth. ‘Your words and your manner towards her gave her little reason to suppose that you would want her to stay,’ she said
eventually
.

‘No, I suppose not,’ he agreed. ‘But she has been less than candid with me.’

‘Some secrets are not ours to share,’ she reminded him. ‘You would surely not have had her betray a confidence.’

He shook his head. ‘No more than I would do so myself.’ Then after a short silence, he said, ‘Anyone with an ounce of
intelligence
would have worked out that it was Isobel Macclesfield who was entangled with Riseholm and not Lavinia.’

‘Yes,’ his mother agreed. ‘Anyone who was not in love.’

After a long silence, he said in subdued tones, ‘Mama, the things I said – did I make her cry?’

Lady Thurlby had no intention of betraying her goddaughter over such a matter. ‘She said that she hoped you would fall off your horse and into a ditch,’ she replied.

After another moment’s silence, he said, ‘I’m not just
pig-headed
, am I? I’m an unreasonable bully as well.’

‘Yes, you are, although I suppose that if you realize it at least
there is some hope for you. That is, as long as you don’t add to your imperfections by being a laggard lover on top of everything. In fact, why are you standing talking to me instead of going after her?’