An Unsuitable Match (18 page)

‘You won because you played by the rules, but since I am not considered by all to be a full member of the Radley family, I think it's time I changed tack. If I'm not good enough to be part of the team, then I shall just have to play outside of the rules. Bastard is as bastard does.'

‘David, promise me one thing,' Alex replied.

‘What?'

‘You won't go running off after Clarice tonight. I don't want to have to come and haul you out of a ditch somewhere on the Great North Road.'

David buttoned up his jacket and managed his first real smile of the evening.

‘Don't worry, brother, I shall return these borrowed clothes of yours in good order; I know your dear wife chose them. And no, I won't be giving anyone the satisfaction of knowing I rode off into the night while drunk and broke my bloody neck because Langham won't play fair.'

The Langham family coach pulled out of the coach inn at Fakenham, Norfolk a few days later. The carriage jerked as the fresh horses took up the slack, causing Clarice to stir from her sleep.

‘Where are we?'

‘Fakenham, my dear,' Lady Alice replied from the seat opposite. She reached into the cloth bag next to her and pulled out a small bread roll, offering it to Clarice.

Clarice turned her head away. ‘Thank you, but no. The movement of the coach has left my stomach unsettled. Food is the last thing I need.'

Lady Alice put the roll back into the bag. ‘You need to eat something, Clarice. We have been on the road since Monday and apart from a piece of dry bread at supper last night you have not eaten anything. It cannot be good for your health. Would you at least try to have some barley water? You don't want to faint again.'

She offered a flask to Clarice, who waved it away before pulling her blanket up around her shoulders. ‘Perhaps in a little while. In the meantime I think I shall just try to sleep.'

Lady Alice picked up her embroidery and continued to work on the piece she had started not long after they set out from London.

‘You do know your father is not doing this to punish you? He said so himself.'

Clarice closed her eyes and swallowed. If exile was not punishment then what was? And how could her father possibly think she would thank him for sending her away?

‘He thinks I am not right in my mind,' she replied sadly.

After she'd fainted in the sitting room, her father had carried her to her bedroom and sat with her until she regained consciousness. Tears and pleading had got her nowhere. Her dizzy spell had only further confirmed his decision to send her away.

Lady Alice leaned across and put a hand on Clarice's knee. ‘He is only concerned for your wellbeing. You are in a delicate state of mind and he fears you are being influenced by others into doing what they want, rather than what is good for you.'

‘There is nothing wrong with me; I simply hadn't eaten since the day before. You know what is really happening here. Thaxter Fox and Susan Kirk have poisoned Papa's mind. They don't want me to marry David, so they have conspired to ensure it doesn't happen. I have been sent away in the hope that David may decide to give up on me.'

‘And what of you, Clarice; what do you want?' her grandmother said, sitting back in her seat.

The last cottage in the town disappeared from view and open fields now stretched for miles either side of the road. Clarice lay back in her seat and stared out the nearest window of the carriage.

‘To be honest, I don't know,' she replied.

In her heart she knew she was in love with David. But love, even with all its complications, was unfortunately the easy part. It was better she kept the truth hidden from Lady Alice.

‘Then perhaps you ought to trust your father's instincts. This time away from London might be exactly what you need,' Lady Alice said.

Clarice massaged her temples with her thumb and forefinger. The past days had seen her emotions stretched to their limit. From the highest of highs, when David had held her in a passionate embrace, to the utter despair of discovering Susan had betrayed her.

To know that Susan had put her jealousy ahead of their friendship burned deeply. She sighed and shifted on the seat. Who was she trying to fool? Theirs had been a friendship born of mutual need and nothing more; Susan had done exactly what she needed to secure her own future. She had set her sights on Thaxter Fox and the promise of being the future Countess Langham. Clarice doubted the union of Thaxter Fox and Susan Kirk, if it were to happen, would be a happy one, but since she had already seriously misjudged Susan, who was to tell?

Outside the carriage the clouds were grey and threatening. With luck the travellers would arrive at Langham Hall before the heavens opened. Nothing made her travel sickness worse than being on the road in the middle of a storm. Heaving the contents of her stomach out on the side of the road in the rain had been the low point of her last journey back to Norfolk, something she did not wish to repeat.

She sat up in the seat and blinked hard, trying to clear her mind. The smell of the sea had awakened her senses and sleep would no longer come. Very soon she would be home.

Unless her father changed his mind and sent word from London that she could return, she was stuck at her family seat. Defying her father and leaving Langham Hall would be foolish, to say the least. She could only pray that fate would intercede on her behalf.

At least while she was in Norfolk she would be away from Thaxter Fox, a small blessing for which she knew she should be grateful.

‘Would you mind if I borrowed your writing desk?' she asked, pointing to the rosewood box stored under Lady Alice's seat. She had been sent to the country, but if Clarice remembered his words correctly, her father had not forbidden her to send letters.

She pushed her blanket off and bent down to pick up the handle of the box. Lady Alice raised an eyebrow.

‘I shall have a drink now, if you don't mind,' Clarice said, depositing the box on the seat next to her. While she didn't know the exact address of David's rooms, a letter sent to Strathmore House would no doubt find its way to him.

Lady Alice handed over a small leather-covered canteen and Clarice took a sip of the lemon barley water. She shuddered as it went down her parched throat. Horrid and bitter though it was, it was better than nothing.

‘Thank you,' she said. She smiled. Who knew what possibilities could eventuate from this letter? As soon as David discovered where she had gone, she knew there was every likelihood he would follow.

She opened the writing box and set it on her knee. With pen dipped in ink, she sat and stared at the blank page. What was she to write?

Come, save me from my evil father, who has sent me away?

She pursed her lips. Unlike David, she was not certain that she could write a love letter. Not only did the words fail her, but truth be told, she was uncertain of how to proceed. Was she ready to share with him everything of her life, all of her secrets?

The look of pain that crossed his face when she refused to put on the necklace had haunted her dreams. A reciprocal declaration of love would have been easier.. It would have made him happy.

By telling him she was at Langham Hall, it would no doubt create an expectation in his mind. An expectation she was not entirely sure she could meet.

Could she be that cruel?

The carriage hit a large hole in the road and swayed. A fresh wave of nausea hit her and the decision was made for her. She put the quill back into the holder and closed the writing desk.

‘I shall think on things before I send any missives.'

David gave a short flick of the reins and urged his horses on. The faster he got to Sharnbrook, the sooner he could inspect his new livestock. Bannister's letter informing him of their arrival had been the much-needed catalyst for pulling him out of his dark mood.

With Clarice now resident in Norfolk, there seemed little point in making further overtures to Lord Langham. Instead David had spent the days since his ill-fated meeting with Clarice's father organising his financial affairs and settling his household purchases.

‘So when does the ram arrive?' he asked his steward several hours later as he cast a studious gaze over the new flock.

‘The lads will bring him up the River Ouse from Bedford to just south of the village, then cart him the rest of the way,' replied Bannister. ‘He should be here later in the week.'

David saw the sly grin on his steward's face and chuckled. They were both excited at the prospect of breathing new life into the estate.

‘Very good, Bannister,' he replied.

Once back inside the manor house, David pulled out his satchel of papers, ready to finish the last of his pile of correspondence.

He sat back in a chair and looked out into the garden. As was so often the case when he was alone, his mind drifted to Clarice. For more years than he could count, she had lingered in his thoughts.

It was a warm summer's day, not unlike the day when he had fallen in love with her. That day he had been reading a book in the large rear garden at Strathmore House, pretending not to listen as Lucy and Clarice played at a game of ‘guess your future husband's name'. Lucy, for her part, had settled on the safe option of Harold and was pressing Clarice to decide whom she would marry. When she refused to reveal the name, Lucy threw a small cushion at her. The ensuing squeals and giggles caught David's attention and he looked up.

At that moment a ray of afternoon sunshine filtered through the ornamental English holly bush that stood nearby, and bathed the garden in a surreal golden light. The air surrounding Clarice was full of tiny specks of pollen and dust, made visible by the sun.

She lifted her head and, staring straight at him, softly said, ‘David'.

The roar of Lucy's laughter broke the spell. ‘You're going to marry David!' she squealed with obvious delight.

Blushing, Clarice had turned away, but not before her gaze had irrevocably pierced David's heart.

Yes.

A small voice in the recess of his mind had spoken, and from that day on he was smitten. He closed his eyes, recalling her laughter when they'd last danced together. Hope flared once again in his heart. More telling, however, was the look of despair on her face when Lord Langham took Clarice from the dance floor.

At that instant his desire for her had roared into flame. She hadn't attempted to disguise her anguish at being parted from him. The pained look on her face, which he knew from bitter experience could only come from the deepest place in her heart, confirmed once and for all that she loved him. He knew it in the depths of his soul.

Picking up his quill, he dipped it in the inkwell. For the time being he would focus his energy on urgent estate matters, ensuring that every other aspect of his sphere of control was in order.

Considering he had broken the terms of their agreement, he found himself oddly pleased that Clarice for the moment was at a distance. At least she would now have the time she had asked for. When next they met he would press her for the answer he so desperately needed.

With Clarice at her father's estate, she was away from London and, more importantly, away from Thaxter Fox. As long as she remained at Langham Hall, David could draw comfort in the knowledge that she was safe.

As the late afternoon sun sank to the west, the Langham family coach passed between the ancient stone pillars that stood either side of the long drive leading to Langham Hall.

Climbing down from the carriage, Clarice felt the first chill of the North Sea wind on her face. She shivered. Coming home should be a happy occasion, but as she looked up and took in the view of the house she felt little joy. The towering grey stone walls, with their haphazard patchwork of soft green ivy, mirrored her own confused state.

In her childhood she had loved the Hall, as it was known to all in the local district, imagining how her ancestors had fought battles to defend their precious home. The many happy hours she'd spent roaming the estate with children of her father's tenants, coming home at all hours grubby and hungry, were some of her fondest memories.

But when she turned twelve, her parents had appointed a new governess and all childish games were brought to an end. She was to be a lady, and only ladylike behaviour was now acceptable. Her former friends became strangers, made to bow and call her Lady Clarice.

The housekeeper greeted them, interrupting her reverie.

‘I am so sorry for the manner of your reception, my lady; we had no idea you were coming. If we had known, the household staff would have assembled to greet you. I shall send immediate word to the village and have the rest of the servants here as soon as possible,' she said.

Lady Alice gave her a forgiving smile. ‘Our journey home was a spur-of-the-moment decision and we had no time to send word. Whatever accommodations you have for us tonight will suffice. It is too late to call the staff back from the village; they may return tomorrow.'

Clarice followed Lady Alice into the house and heard the housekeeper close the front door behind her. The only thing missing was the sound of a key being turned. The Hall was to be her prison until her father decided on her future.

‘Do you think you could keep a spot of supper down?' her grandmother asked.

Clarice nodded. ‘But first I need to attend to my hair and face.'

Lady Alice gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘I know the journey was difficult for you, my dear. I hope that within an hour or two your stomach will settle. Go and lie down and I will send word when supper is ready.'

After the long, draining journey, Clarice had little interest in doing much else. The lure of her soft, warm bed beckoned.

With Bella following hard on her heels, she made her way to her bedroom. As soon as she opened the door, she was sharply reminded of how many months it had been since she and her father had left for London.

Her bed and all the bedroom furniture were hidden under large Holland covers.

‘I suppose that is to be expected; we weren't due to arrive back here for another month or so. I shall go downstairs and see what can be done to set your room to rights,' Bella said and left the room.

Clarice walked to the window, slowly unbuttoning her coat. Her room overlooked the garden and the thick woods beyond the stone garden wall.

Her first smile in many days found its way to her lips. Without her father in residence, she would be free to roam the woods and sit at the water's edge of the nearby lake. Deep and well stocked with wily tench, it presented the perfect place to hide away from her troubles.

Her mind was still in turmoil; and she knew that even once her bed was set to right, sleep would not come.

‘I shall find my brushes and paints,' she said.

Silence hung in the room.

Lady Alice picked at a small bunch of grapes hanging over the side of the ornate gold fruit bowl, pulling one small grape free and rolling it slowly between her thumb and her forefinger.

‘It is going to be a long, tiresome evening if I am the only one making any attempt to converse,' she said, arching an eyebrow.

‘Sorry,' Clarice replied, as she continued to push her spoon around her bowl of soup. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the worried look on her grandmother's face.

‘You should try and eat something, my dear.'

She nodded. Her travel-weary head and stomach had finally settled, but the food held little appeal. In the hours since their arrival, she had moped about the house, only agreeing to come to supper in order to remain in Lady Alice's good graces.

Without her father at home, she was adrift. She was still angry with him, but she also missed him.

‘Much as I resent being packed off to the country in the middle of the season, I think we should take a happier view of the situation,' Lady Alice continued.

‘What do you mean?' Clarice replied.

‘I don't think you are certain as to what you actually want. You have dallied with both Mr Fox and David Radley. Neither gentleman, I expect, would be happy to know you had been trifling with them.'

She examined the grape she'd spent the better part of a minute rolling in her hand, and put it down on the table. Sitting back in her chair, she fell silent.

Clarice put down her spoon and stared at her grandmother. Had she just been branded a flirt?

‘I did not think I had given Mr Fox any sort of encouragement for him to form a
tendre
for me,' she replied.

‘That is not what I had gathered from the afternoon you spent with him at Lady Brearley's garden party. In fact, several guests noted how well you and he seemed to suit one another. I expect there are those who would not be surprised to hear of a betrothal between you.'

Thaxter Fox? Thaxter Fox!

Clarice was adamant she felt nothing for Thaxter Fox. How could others have leapt to the preposterous conclusion that she would marry her father's heir?

She had assumed her father's
only
reason for sending her back to the country was to get her away from David. Had she underestimated her father?

Please Papa, not Thaxter Fox.

‘I think David is going to offer for me; he had intended to speak to Papa this week,' Clarice replied bravely.

‘Fool,' the dowager replied.

Clarice nodded her head. ‘Out of respect, I would not dare to say that of my father, but yes, I don't believe he is fair in his conduct toward David.'

Lady Alice picked up her spoon. ‘I refer not to your father but to Mr Radley. Though I must agree that your father could do with a cuff behind his ear every so often. What I meant was the folly of David offering for you and expecting your father to accept him at the first.'

Clarice's hopes fell. Lady Alice no longer supported her cause.

‘If I were him, I would have bundled you into a carriage and spirited you away to Scotland the second I thought
you
would accept me. His father does have a rather large castle in which he could hide you.'

‘What?' Clarice stammered.

‘Well, of course. Fine young man though he may be, the circumstances of his birth make it difficult for him to utilise the prescribed ways of attaining such a prize as you. Stealth and a fast horse should be the means he uses to claim you. Once he has you alone in a carriage, that would be grounds enough for the rest of society to demand a wedding.'

Clarice sighed. She doubted David would find her grandmother's solution to his liking. To elope was unthinkable.

‘He would never do such a thing. His honour means everything to him.'

‘Even at the cost of losing the woman he professes to love? If that is the case, you may have been spared marriage to a man who does not know the value of what he has.'

‘He is not like that; I know he truly loves me,' Clarice replied.

Her brow furrowed at her own remark. Defending David had become something of a habit of late.

One thing she did know for certain: her grandmother was right. Spending time away from London and all its distractions would give her time to think.

A knock at the door heralded the arrival of the main course. A small platter of roasted root vegetables and a rather small chicken with apple and walnut stuffing were the evening's meagre offering. The footman placed the platter in between the two women and then left.

Lady Alice chortled. ‘I shall give Cook a list of things to purchase in the village tomorrow morning so you can have some of your favourite things.'

‘Thank you. And the chicken is fine; I have always been partial to a simple meal. Much of the extravagant fare in London does not agree with my constitution,' Clarice replied.

For the next hour they enjoyed a comfortable meal, exchanging small talk about the happenings in London. At the end they both rose and adjourned to a nearby sitting room.

Clarice took a seat in a comfortable chair by the fire, while her grandmother sat down in her own special chair opposite. Lady Alice picked up her embroidery. Clarice smiled. Her late mother had always had a gift for beautiful needlework, and had been even more skilled than the dowager countess. Sadly, she had not passed on her gift to Clarice.

Her grandmother raised her head and looked at Clarice's empty hands.

‘Why don't you go and find a suitable book in the library, my dear, and bring it back here? I know there is no point in asking you if you have any needlework to go on with.'

Clarice rubbed her hands together in front of the fire. ‘Yes, Grandmamma, you may rest assured in the certain knowledge that I shall never take to the needle with anything other than a healthy degree of reluctance. If ever I marry, my house shall be infamous for its lack of fancy table runners.'

Lady Alice snorted loudly.

‘Oh my dear girl, it does me a power of good to see your old spark coming back,' she said. Her laughter settled to a soft chuckle and she took hold of Clarice's hand and held it.

‘Something tells me that here at our family home, you will soon discover the answers that you seek.'

‘Thank you for being so patient and understanding with me; I know it isn't easy. And yes, it is good to be home,' Clarice replied.

Later, as she lay in her bed, she decided Lady Alice was right. She would accept this time away from David and her father as a blessing and put it to good use. With luck her heart would find the answer she sensed was just out of reach.