A Reason to Rebel (20 page)

“But how did you find me?”

“I will tell you everything later.”

“And who is the gentlemen with you?” Marianne’s gaze was now fastened upon Alex.

“Lord Crawley, may I present my sister, Marianne Winthrop.”

“Lord Crawley?” Marianne dropped into a curtsey but her eyes were on her sister rather than the gentlemen in question.

“Indeed.” Alex bowed. “I had the pleasure of making Miss Winthrop’s acquaintance at Mrs. Cleethorpe’s wedding.”

“Marianne?” A door opened and Mr. Porter appeared. “What is going on?” He stopped in his tracks when he saw Estelle. “Oh, Mrs. Travis, you are here.” He coloured as he bowed, not only looking as confused as Marianne but exceedingly embarrassed too.

“Mr. Porter.” Estelle turned towards Alex. “Lord Crawley, may I make Mr. Porter known to you.”

Alex acknowledged Mr. Porter with a slight inclination of his head and subjected his person to prolonged scrutiny.

“I bid you welcome to my mother’s house, my lord.” Porter still appeared flummoxed by Alex’s presence but was regaining his composure with commendable speed. “And you too, Mrs. Travis, naturally.”

“Thank you.” Estelle spoke graciously, aware of his discomfort and intent upon putting him at his ease. Marianne was safe and obviously happy. After all Estelle’s fears for her welfare, she was too relieved to care about anything else.

“Marianne would have had you here long before now, Mrs. Travis, and it is merely my cautious nature that prevented her from writing to you.”

“I see.”

“My father passed away last year but I promised him I would complete my articles with Nesbit, which I shall do in just a few months’ time. I will then be able to take full responsibility for all of my obligations,” he said with a significant glance at Marianne, “since I have been asked to remain with the firm.”

“Benjamin is doing splendid work. Mr. Nesbit relies on him excessively and is quite unable to manage without him. That is why he has offered to employ him when he is out of his articles.” Marianne spoke with pride in her voice.

“I am sure that must be so.” Estelle smiled. “Mr. Travis was not a trusting sort of man but even he could not find fault with Mr. Porter’s grasp of his business affairs.”

“Is your mother at home?” asked Alex. He received a reply in the negative.

“Come this way.” Marianne tugged at Estelle’s hand and led her towards the stairs. “I have another surprise for you. Molly,” she added over her shoulder, addressing the maid who had avidly been watching the entire scene unfold, “some tea for us on the top floor, if you please.”

“Where are we going?” Estelle tripped lightly up the stairs behind her sister.

“Shush, be patient!” As they reached the landing on the top floor, Marianne stopped outside a closed door. “He was awake just now.”

“Who was awake, darling?” asked Estelle. “Why are you speaking in riddles?”

“Because…” Marianne threw the door open with a theatrical flourish that was so typical of her that Estelle felt more tears spring to her eyes. Because they misted her vision it took her a moment to recognize the figure sitting up in a wide bed reading a book. He looked up with a smile on his lips; a smile that turned to disbelief when he espied her.

“Matthew!” Estelle hurtled herself towards her brother, who warded her off with a cautionary wave of his hand.

“Be careful, sis,” he said, laughing. “I am still so weak that a strong puff of wind could knock me out right now.”

“Whatever happened to you?” She bent to kiss his brow and frowned when she noticed how thin he was.

“Long story,” he said cheerfully. “But, by God, it’s devilish good to see you, Estelle. How are you? Sorry and all that about Travis.”

“Thank you.” She introduced Alex and they all sat down, Estelle holding Matthew’s hand in one of her own and Marianne’s in the other.

The maid appeared with a tray loaded with tea things and, leaving Marianne to pour, closed the door quietly behind her as she left.

“Well.” Estelle’s eyes roamed to first one sibling’s face and then the other’s. “Which of you will go first?”

“I will,” said Marianne. “Estelle, I am so sorry I could not tell you where I was and that it was necessary for Benjamin to answer your letter dishonestly. But, you see, we could not be sure—”

“You could not be sure that I was not writing on behalf of Papa.” Marianne’s eyes widened but Estelle spoke again before she could interrupt. “It is perfectly all right, darling. After the insensitive manner in which I behaved the last time we met, I can scarce blame you for doubting me.”

Marianne gaped in open astonishment. “So you
do
understand. I said she was sure to, did I not, Benjamin?”

“I should have trusted your judgment,” said Mr. Porter, “and saved you both a deal of heartache.”

“It is of no consequence.” Estelle smiled her reassurance at Mr. Porter and leaned across to kiss her sister. “You were not at fault, either of you, and I have long wished for this opportunity to beg your pardon. I should have lent you a more sympathetic ear when you came to me for advice, Marianne.”

“It is not your fault,” said Marianne kindly. “It is in your nature to be dutiful and you could not help yourself.”

“You came to pour your heart out and I refused to listen. No wonder you wanted nothing more to do with me.”

“Not one day has gone by without Marianne agonizing over you, wishing you were here, Mrs. Travis,” said Mr. Porter with transparent sincerity. “But I persuaded her that until she comes of age we could not risk it. If your father were to discover her whereabouts, well…we simply could not take that chance. If he were to find her here he would in all probability draw inappropriate conclusions, which could cost me my position at Nesbit’s.”

“Yes,” said Estelle, “I quite see the difficulty.”

“We did not know, when you wrote to me, whether you would feel duty bound to pass on any information I gave you to your father. And even if you did not, Marianne thought the servants very likely read your correspondence and might tell him.” Estelle nodded in understanding. “I did not want to mislead you but did not see what else could be done.”

He cleared his throat, colour heightening his complexion as he danced round the delicate subject of Marianne living beneath his roof. He was a very good-looking young man, his dark features the perfect foil for Marianne’s delicate blond beauty, and they made a striking couple. Estelle knew him to be serious-minded enough to counter Marianne’s capricious nature. She admired his diligent approach to his duties and his ambition to lend distinction to his chosen profession. It was also transparently obvious that he was wildly in love with Marianne, and she with him.

Mr. Porter ran his fingers round the inside of his high collar, looking acutely embarrassed. His eyes frequently darted towards Alex, who was doing his best to put him at his ease by pretending he was not there, but Mr. Porter obviously found his presence unnerving.

“Was there something you wished to say to Mrs. Travis?” he asked.

“Yes, indeed. You see, the thing is, Marianne not only worried about being forced into marriage but also feared for her safety, which is why she is here with me now.”

“What! That’s coming it a bit strong, Marianne,” said Estelle, shocked. “I know you did not care for the idea of marriage to Mr. Cowper but surely—”

“No, Estelle, just listen to what Benjamin has to say before you make up your mind about anything. You will understand so much better after you have heard him.”

“Her fears drove her here and I could not turn her away. No man of conscience could have done so, not if he knew what lay in wait for her if she was compelled to return home and when, well,” he said, colouring, “when the man in question loved the lady to distraction but never thought that love would be returned.”

Marianne beamed, her cheeks a becoming shade of pink. “How could you have been such a simpleton?”

“And so your mother took Marianne in and has acted as her chaperone ever since,” said Alex, recalling the pair’s attention to the delicate subject under debate.

“Quite so!” Mr. Porter flashed a brief smile of gratitude in Alex’s direction. “Nothing of an inappropriate nature has occurred beneath this roof—that is what I wished to make known to you, Mrs. Travis. I complete my articles in three-months’ time and Marianne comes of age a month after that. She has graciously consented to become my wife at that time,” he added, pride and love shining from his eyes, “and will then become the mistress of this house. My mother wishes to reside with her sister in Scarborough, which she intends to do as soon as we are wed.”

Estelle squeezed her sister’s hand. “You are happy, my love, that much is obvious, and I am very glad for you.”

“So you will not tell Papa?”

“Papa and I are no longer on speaking terms.”

“What!” cried Matthew and Marianne in unison.

“Why not?” added Matthew. “I would have wagered what few possessions I can still call my own that you were too dutiful to ever defy him.”

“That used to be the case but he has pushed me too far this time.” She smiled at her brother. “Everyone has their limits, you know, even me.” Briefly she outlined all that had happened since Mr. Travis’s death. She told them of Susanna’s intervention and gave an abbreviated account of her sojourn as an unemployed governess beneath Alex’s roof.

“So he now wants
you
to marry Cowper,” said Matthew. “My God, the man has not a scruple in his body.”

“It does not altogether surprise me,” Marianne said. “Cowper always preferred you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“It was the main reason why I ran away. Not that I would ever have married Cowper, of course. Benjamin and I had decided that for propriety’s sake I ought to pretend to go along with the scheme, but find reasons for the wedding not to take place until I came of age. Naturally, that was the point at which Benjamin would arrive on a white charger and spirit me away in the nick of time.”

“What happened to change that plan?” asked Alex, when the betrothed couple lost themselves in one another’s eyes and forget about the explanation which was being dragged from them with frustrating slowness.

“I overheard a conversation between Papa and Mr. Cowper.” Marianne pulled a disagreeable face. “Well, to be honest, I did not actually overhear but suspected they were up to something and listened at the door to Papa’s library.”

“And what were they talking about?” asked Estelle.

“They were discussing me,” Marianne said. “Cowper was complaining about my lack of docility. He thought it unreasonable that I would not even permit him to touch me, much less kiss me, and said how he would so much prefer to marry you. It seems you are much prettier, more compliant and know your place. Papa was going out of his way to placate him. I thought that rather odd because Papa seldom takes the trouble to be agreeable to anyone. He said marriages did not last forever, especially when the gentleman involved was older than his wife and fond of dangerous sports.”

“My God!” Estelle’s hand flew to her mouth. “Are you suggesting that they were actually plotting to kill Mr. Travis?”

“Yes, I believe they were. They spoke for some time about how it might be achieved, citing his love of the hunting field as the most likely place for an accident to take place. They mentioned the flighty new stallion he had just purchased and how unpredictable such creatures could be.”

“And that is exactly how he died.” Estelle’s hands were trembling. “Do you really think they put their plan into action?”

“I really cannot say but it seems highly suspicious to me. I did not hear any more because I was discovered by Johnson. He hauled me into the study and told Papa I was listening to his conversation. I have never seen him half so angry before—or so apprehensive. Anyway, he thrashed me, then and there in front of Mr. Cowper,” she said, her face flushed with embarrassment, “until I could not sit down and told me to forget all I had heard if I knew what was good for me.”

“And as soon as I received Marianne’s letter explaining what had transpired, I knew it would not be safe for her to stay in that house for a moment longer.” Mr. Porter claimed his beloved’s hand.

“So that is what you came to tell me about. And all I could do was advise you to be a dutiful daughter and marry Cowper.”

“Do not be so hard on yourself, Estelle. I was to blame as well for losing my temper.”