Amanda Scott (25 page)

She followed the others across the gallery to the dining room. There the conversation was desultory for the most part, although Davy asked Meriel more than one question about her French adventures, and Eliza wanted to hear all about the fashions and social life in Paris. Twice Meriel caught her brother’s eyes upon her in such a manner that she avoided looking his way again for several moments afterward, and it was only a chance remark of Eliza’s toward the end of dinner that, by stirring her temper, restored her customary self-confidence.

“It seems a pity that the fighting had to start again,” the younger girl began harmlessly enough, “for I should like to visit Paris. Still, I daresay it will all be over by the time Freddie and I are married, and we shall pay Nest and dearest André a lovely, long visit.”

Meriel controlled her voice with an effort. “Have I missed something?” she inquired faintly. “Surely you have not already announced your engagement to Captain Halldorson.”

“No, no, nothing of the sort,” Jocelyn interposed in jolly tones. “I’ve told the minx she oughtn’t to speak so until Halldorson requests my permission formally and the announcement has been placed in the
Gazette
. Of course, the match has my approval, so when Halldorson comes up to scratch, as I make no doubt he will—”

“I should not like to see such an announcement before the Season is done,” Lady Cadogan said gently.

Jocelyn shrugged, casting a wary glance at Meriel, but she folded her lips tightly together, determined to say nothing more on the subject until they were alone. Realizing that Eliza was also looking anxiously her way, she forced a smile. The younger girl relaxed visibly.

“I think Captain Halldorson is very handsome,” Gwenyth said thoughtfully, “but he is not the sort of man I wish to have for a husband, I can tell you that.”

“No one asked you,” Eliza pointed out, frowning at her.

“Fellow’s no more than a dashed show-off,” said Davy scornfully. “Saw him from the schoolroom window when he rode into the square today, and even the veriest nodcock could tell at a glance that he fancies himself a pretty fine fellow on horseback. Jabbed the bit down the poor nag’s throat and made him rear up like one of the trick horses at Astley’s when he brought him up at the door. Probably thought you was watching from the drawing room, Liza.”

“Hold your tongue, sir!” commanded Jocelyn in a sharp tone.

“Well,” said Meriel fairly, “he is entitled to express an opinion, Joss, but I do see that the less he says about Astley’s the better it will be for him. How do you like your new tutor, Davy?”

The boy shot her a grateful look and launched into a description of Mr. Scott’s attributes grand enough to persuade her that the man was a vast improvement over Mr. Glendower. She glanced at that gentleman, now engaged in a low-toned conversation with her aunt, and was glad to see that although he had indeed heard Davy’s words he showed no sign of jealousy. Since he had considered the boy his special charge for a good many years, Meriel would not have been surprised to learn that he felt displaced by Mr. Scott.

Lady Cadogan signaled at last that the time had come to leave his lordship and Mr. Glendower to enjoy their port in masculine solitude. However, when everyone stood up, Jocelyn turned to the chaplain and said, “I hope you will excuse me, sir. I have business with my sister that must not be put off any longer. Do not let me prevent you from enjoying this excellent port, however. Remain here as long as you like.” Then, following the others onto the gallery landing, he said quietly to Meriel, “If you will be so good as to come downstairs with me, we may be private in my library.”

She said nothing, for by now she had as great a wish to speak to him as he had to speak to her. Laying her hand lightly upon his arm, she excused herself to the others, who were on the point of entering the drawing room, and allowed him to take her down the stairs and into the library.

This chamber was quite as grand as any of the other public rooms of the house. Its walls and tall bookshelves were painted white with gold trim, while a groined vault, which Meriel thought particularly Gothic in character, helped to fill the space between the bookcases and ceiling, where good pictures would have been wasted. Indeed, the only picture in the room was an antique Roman mosaic of a lion savaging a leopard, which had been acquired by an earlier Traherne during his Grand Tour and incorporated into the ornate overmantel.

Jocelyn crossed the white-and-gold floral Wilton carpet to the library table, which was in fact a walnut desk with a broad flat top, boasting drawers, cupboards, and kneeholes on each side. Taking his place at the far side of this massive but elegant piece of furniture, he gestured toward one of a pair of Chippendale chairs near the crackling fire.

“Sit there, Meri. The room’s still chilly, so I daresay the fire has not been going long. You will be warmer if you take that chair.”

Meriel eyed the chair, with its pierced splat-back in the shape of a lyre, and shook her head. “If you will draw up that Kent chair from the window, Joss, I should prefer it. I have never understood why Papa insisted upon keeping those Chippendales in here. They are elegant but dreadfully uncomfortable, as you would know if you had ever sat in one.”

The look he shot her gave her to understand that she was merely being contrary, but he said nothing until he had drawn up the blue velvet Kent chair trimmed with tiny brass nails to a position near the hearth for her. Then, when she had settled herself comfortably, he moved to his own deep leather wing chair behind the massive library table, sat down with his elbows on the desktop and his fingertips pressed together to make a steeple in front of his chin. Then, folding his lips together tightly, he peered at her in silence for several moments. Just when she had begun to think she would have to speak first, he said abruptly, “I should like to hear just why you thought it necessary to travel into France at such a dangerous time.”

Meriel returned his steady look, no longer feeling the least bit nervous of his temper. “I believed the trip was necessary, Joss, and I am home again. There is no more to be said unless you wish for further news about Nest and André.”

A curt gesture waved away that notion. “France is at war, my girl. You’d no business there.”

She lifted her chin. “It is perfectly true that France is now at war with England, though they were enjoying peace when I departed. Perhaps I ought to have realized when we reached Barmouth and began hearing more recent news than had reached us at Plas Tallyn that war was imminent. However, by that time I had already fixed my purpose and the arrangements were made. No one warned me that I might be in danger, Joss, although I did begin to think before ever I saw the school that even with Nest in Paris to look out for her, Gwenyth would do better to remain at home.”

“Going to France was a crackbrained thing to do,” Jocelyn said sharply, leaning forward and pointing his fingertips at her. “You’d no business to be traveling alone, and don’t play off your tricks telling me that Gladys Peat was chaperon enough. I won’t stand for it.”

“What you will or won’t stand leaves me supremely indifferent, Joss,” she told him calmly. “I suppose you would have had me engage someone to look over the school for me, but that is not my way and never shall be. And if you think I would simply believe Nest when she assured us of her safety, all I can say is that you have changed even more than I can see, for you would certainly never have done so, yourself.”

“No, and had I been here, no doubt I should have gone to see her just as you did,” he said grimly, “and perhaps even have had a look at that blasted school—”

“But you were not here, Joss. That decision, like every decision these two years past, was mine to make, and I made it. You have no business to be telling me now what I should or should not have done.”

“I have every business, Meri. Dammit, I am the head of this family.”

“Yes, indeed, and how very kind it is in you to have returned to take up your duties at last. You cannot know how grateful I am to be able to place the family in your capable hands after all these years.”

“Here now, don’t go throwing that in my teeth again. Papa’s only been gone two years, and I explained how I missed your blasted letters.”

There was a moment’s silence. Then Meriel said gently, “If you had had the consideration to write to us occasionally, I should have known where to direct my letters, Joss.”

He stared at her resentfully for a long minute, idly rearranging a penknife and letter opener on the desk pad. Then, his jaw tightening, he straightened where he sat. “Look here, Meriel, we did not come in here to discuss my travels, but yours. You cannot begin to comprehend the danger you were in. Who is this dashed fellow Sir Antony Davies, I should like to know?”

She was nearly betrayed into a chuckle at the thought of Sir Antony being classed among the dangers she had faced in France, but she managed to answer calmly, “He is a friend of Lord Uxbridge. I believe he is also well-acquainted with Lord Hawkesbury, the foreign secretary. His family comes from Shropshire, and I met him at a supper party in Barmouth before we sailed.”

“Good God, do you mean to say you traveled the entire time in his company? Meriel, surely you must realize your reputation is seriously compromised.”

“Fiddlesticks,” she retorted. “I was never once in his company alone, except aboard the packet when everyone else was ill, and then we were in a public room with servants in and out. As for his kindness in escorting us on the road, there was nothing in the least compromising about it. In Rouen he stayed in a different wing of a very large inn, and in Mantes-de-Jolie, the village where our chaise broke down, Gladys was with me every moment.” She saw no reason to mention her moonlight walk or her meeting with a would-be thief; therefore, she fell silent.

Jocelyn’s grim expression had relaxed. “I cannot like it, Meri, but at least on that damned yacht and during your journey from Portsmouth to London, you were accompanied by Carruthers. His addition to your party must certainly lend it a little more respectability.”

Meriel stared at him, not daring to trust herself to speak. She knew he meant only that two male escorts made a less singular appearance than one, but her sense of mischief urged her to assure him that Mr. Carruthers had been with them a deal longer than he realized. Wisdom kept her silent, however, and Jocelyn took that silence for acquiescence. He said quietly, “All will be well, I suppose, if you do not encourage Davies to haunt the house now you are home again. If you will oblige me in this matter, my dear, I will engage to say no more about your journey.”

But he had already said enough to fire her ready temper. “You have not the least right to tell me how I should go on,” she informed him roundly, “and if I choose to welcome Sir Antony to this house, that is all that anyone shall say about it. Not only am I of age, Jocelyn Traherne, but I have been my own mistress and mistress of this family for far too long to answer to you or to anyone else for my behavior now. No, don’t say another word,” she added furiously when his brows snapped together and his mouth opened. “You shall not speak against Sir Antony, whom you do not know at all. And considering your poor judgment of men, you would do better to keep silent altogether. What on earth are you about to have encouraged that idiotish soldier of Eliza’s to haunt the house?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” she retorted. “Eliza thinks herself as good as engaged to that penniless Halldorson fellow, and all you can see is his fancy uniform and gold braid. He is as unsuited to marry our sister as that Bugg Dewsall of hers back in Dolgellau.”

“Dewsall? Don’t tell me she had a fancy for him? His father’s nothing but a miner. I hope you won’t say Halldorson’s antecedents are anything comparable to that.”

“Oh, no, for he is the son of an earl, is he not?” Meriel said, her tone scathing. “The fourteenth child, if I did not mistake him, with a mere eight brothers betwixt himself and the earldom. For the love of heaven, Joss, even Dewsall will have more money than Halldorson. How do you suppose the captain will support Eliza, if I may make so bold as to ask such a question?”

“You are impertinent, Meriel,” Jocelyn said, adding loftily, “You must know that I do not care for such paltry stuff as rank or position, but only for the character of the man. I believe Halldorson to be a man of ambition who will go far.”

“Yes, all the way to France, I make no doubt. The Coldstream Guards are generally among the first regiments to be sent into battle. What will Eliza do then, do you suppose?”

“Why, she will live here with us, of course.” But he was frowning slightly, and she knew he had not before considered the probability that Halldorson might have to take part in the escalating war. “He is stationed at St. James’s now. Will he not remain on palace guard duty?”

“You must ask him,” Meriel said, her voice calmer now. “I do not know. I do know that he is not at all the sort of husband I should pick for Eliza. You scarcely know her, Joss, so you cannot be blamed for not realizing that she is nearly as shatterbrained as Nest. She always has her nose in some foolish novel and believes life marches along page by page.”

“Well, I cannot think what you were about to have let her read such stuff,” he said, disgusted.

Meriel shrugged. “Plas Tallyn offers little by way of entertainment during the long winters, you know, particularly since Eliza does not enjoy long brisk walks in the cold.”

“Up the mountain, I suppose you mean,” he said, a tiny reminiscent smile flickering across his face. “Do you still enjoy your private rambles, Meri?”

She nodded.

“What will you do in London, my dear? You cannot mean to continue them here.”

She sighed. “No, of course not. Things I can do at home, even things I could do on the Continent, will not do for London. I do know that, Joss, and I will not make a scandal here by behaving as I do at home. Though why I should not be able to walk alone in one of London’s lovely parks, I do not know.”

“Yes, you do, Meri. London’s rabble does not haunt the slopes of Cader Idris, nor yet the banks of the Wnion or the Dovey. A lady walking alone in a London park must expect to be molested. Even,” he added, smiling more broadly now, “a lady so stricken in years as you are.”