Barbara Metzger (18 page)

Alissa was getting almost everything she wanted: a good upbringing for her sons, a chance at a good match for her sister, a good name for herself. And she had a good cry both times one of Rockford’s impersonal correspondences arrived from London, from his new secretary.

Then his sister came home.

Lady Eleanor was as astonished to find Alissa in the house as Alissa was to see her new in-law.

“You and Rockford are married?” the earl’s sister asked, amazed that her high-toned brother would take a common-born wife.

“You are not?” Alissa asked in return.

Eleanor was dark like Robert, with his thick brows and straight hair, but she had a different nose, one seen on some of their ancestors’ portraits. It looked better on the dead relatives. She was tall and thin and sat erect, every inch a lady, except for that bare spot on her finger.

She followed Alissa’s glance, then said, “No, Arkenstall and I found we would not suit after all.”

After a month or so together? Alissa raised her brow the way she had seen Rockford do it. “I…see.”

“No, I do not suppose you do.” The two women had not been precisely friends, due to the disparity in their stations, but that raised eyebrow told Eleanor that Mrs. Henning had come into her own. Eleanor realized that she was no longer mistress here, and could not assume a welcome in the countess’s home. She owed her brother’s unexpected bride a better explanation. “I was blind,” she started. “Love does that, you know,” she added with a bitter laugh. “I did not see what Arkenstall was doing until too late. I never
knew he was actually
stealing from the estate until we were well on our way to Ireland—”

“I thought you were going to Scotland.”

“Oh, that was just to throw people off the scent, if anyone bothered to pursue us. I knew Rockford would not, but Arkenstall wanted to take no chances, and it was far more romantic to be plotting intrigue. Rockford would never have given permission for me to wed a bailiff, of course, which was why we were eloping.”

“Of course not.”

Something in Alissa’s tone warned the older woman that she had overstepped the line. “Oh, your father was a bailiff, wasn’t he?”

“And my husband. My first husband.”

“Yes, well, I decided that I could wed one too. After all, I was nearing forty, with no other prospects in sight. And I thought I loved him, fool that I was. But I was not a thief! He was clever, Arkenstall was. He had me convinced Rock Hill was suffering a bad year, that the revenues were off. He said things would turn around in the spring and we could rehire the laborers, make the repairs. I swear to you I never knew he was embezzling money until he bragged about it, when we were well on our way. I never looked at the ledgers. That was Arkenstall’s job, or Rockford’s, if he ever bothered to look.”

“I believe you. But how did you think you would live if Rockford did not give his blessings?”

“Oh, I thought he would come around once the deed was done. What was it to him whom I married, anyway? If he would not take Arkenstall back, I reasoned, then we could have led a decent life on my dowry, which was considerable.”

“Was?”

“How could I ask my brother to release the money, when Arkenstall had stolen from him?”

“I can see where that would be a problem.”

“I was still going to go through with the wedding, for I was already ruined and he said he had done it for love of me, to give me the life I was used to. You would think that at my age I would know better than to trust a silver-tongued devil, but perhaps I believed him just because I was an old spinster, and no one else was going to love me. Oh, I could have found a man to marry me anytime these last years, but I decided I would rather stay unwed than have a husband bought with my dowry. I was content here, until Arkenstall showed me what I had been missing.”

Alissa could well understand the other woman’s feelings. She handed over a handkerchief.

Lady Eleanor blew her distinctive nose before continuing. “Yes, well, then I discovered that he had not only robbed from the estate, but he had taken items belonging to Rockford besides, antiques, heirlooms, small items he could pawn. I found a case full of them while I was looking for one of my misplaced bags at an inn. There was no jewelry that I could see. Is it all accounted for?”

Alissa twirled the ring on her finger. “Claymore would have known if something was missing from the vault.”

“Good, because I could not search all Arkenstall’s bags. But I realized then what he was up to, why he had taken me away.”

“How dreadful.”

“Uglier still to realize that he never cared for me, only for what he could get. We had a terrible row. He did not want me to leave.”

“He could never get your dowry then.”

“Oh, he had to know Rockford would not release my portion to a thief. Anyone who has the least acquaintance with Rockford would know his moral inflexibility.”

“Arkenstall must have cared for you, then, to have wanted you to stay.” Because the other woman sounded so forlorn, she added, “For that matter, he must have held
you
in
affection or
he
would
not have taken you along or planned an elopement. Surely he could have traveled faster on his own.”

Lady Eleanor shrugged. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he needed the coach. Or else he had yet another plan, like ransoming me back to Rockford.” She sipped at the glass of sherry Alissa poured for her. “More likely he did not wish me to leave because I knew his plans and he feared I would tell the authorities. He claimed I was an accomplice, that I would hang alongside him, or be deported. I did not want to spend another minute in his company, much less voyage to Botany Bay with him.”

“So what did you do?” Alissa refilled Lady Eleanor’s glass and took a swallow from her own, leaning forward. The story was almost as good as one of Aminta’s novels from the lending library.

“I wrote to Squire Winslow, telling him which port Arkenstall planned to sail from. We were going to travel a bit until the dust settled.”

“You did not write to your brother?”

Lady Eleanor made no comment. They both knew Rockford would not have come, if he bothered to read the letter. He would have washed his hands of his errant sister, with that same moral inflexibility. “The squire is my godfather, you know.”

Alissa had not known that. Winslow was the magistrate, though. “And he rescued you from Arkenstall?”

“There was no rescue. I foolishly told Arkenstall what I had done, so he took an earlier ship. He was well out of reach when Squire Winslow arrived. Squire came home with me in the coach. Rockford’s coach.” She shook her head. “Quite a sad ending for an adventure, isn’t it?”

Aminta’s stories never ended so poorly. “At least you had an adventure. What shall you do now?”

“I thought to live here quietly. Rockford never comes, and old Claymore would not care that I am a ruined woman. He’s known me from birth, too. But now… I do not know. My presence will reflect poorly on you. It could even destroy your sister’s chances. I’d leave, but I have no funds left. I did retrieve a few items that belong to Rockford by hiding them in my own luggage, but if I sell them, then indeed I am a thief.”

There was no arguing Lady Eleanor’s estimation. Everything Alissa was working for would be destroyed by the scandal that was merely a rumor now—and she had enough money to send her sister-in-law away into safe anonymity. For that matter, the rent was paid through the new year on her old cottage. But this was Rockford’s sister, and she was supposed to be looking out for his family, wasn’t she?

“Could you be breeding?” she asked.

Eleanor stared into her glass. “No. I bled on the way home.”

“Excellent. Then you are not ruined. You are a heroine, and so we shall tell everyone.”

Lady Eleanor laughed in disbelief. “I should have known you were a ninny. Who else would take on my brother?”

“A practical woman with a family to protect. Here is what we shall say: You realized Arkenstall was up to no good and went after him in the family coach, with your maid for companion. You are not a young miss, so that is unexceptional. Foolish, perhaps, but not shocking. The maid came down with the influenza, so you left her behind, still bravely giving pursuit. When you located the dastard you sent for Squire, who arrived too late to arrest him but, with your help, retrieved the family heirlooms.”

Lady Eleanor considered the fabrication. “But where have I been? Too much time has passed.”

“Why, you have been recovering from the influenza yourself. At…surely you have an old school friend in the north or someone who would vouch for your presence?”

“I do have an old aunt who lives in Wales. She never comes to town anyway. It might just work.”

“It will work. It has to.”

“You are very good, Countess. I knew I did the right thing by sending William to you.”

“Thank you. He will be anxious to see you, as will Hugo.”

“Rothmore is here too? The Chudleighs always said he would never survive the journey.”

“I believe they felt he could get better care here, now. He is not as strong as I would wish, but he is thriving. He has something of your look, you know. The nose, I think.”

“Poor boy.”

They both laughed. Then Eleanor said, “You have indeed wrought miracles. Maybe you can manage this one too, making me respectable again.”

With Claymore’s help, they planted the tale on the local grapevine. Few believed the story, but if that was what the countess wanted them to think, then that was what they would, rather than lose her good graces.

None of the local hostesses had to worry about entertaining a stumbling, if not fallen, woman in their homes. Lady Eleanor refused all invitations. She would not accompany Alissa to the village or to the outlying farms. She would not join the boys on their excursions. She would not even take meals with the others. She just kept to her room or took long rides to who knew where.

Alissa was worried enough that she thought of writing to Rockford, but Eleanor had begged her not to tell him she was back, swearing that she would do it herself, in time. No correspondence waited to be sent, however. Claymore suggested the letter might have been mailed from the village on Lady Eleanor’s walks, but Alissa doubted her sister-in-law went there, with all the whispers.

The secretary would read the letter either way, so Alissa kept her own counsel. Lady Eleanor was still recovering from the influenza, she told anyone who was impolite enough to ask.

Alissa knew it was far more likely that the woman was recovering from a broken heart and shattered pride.

She could sympathize with both.

Chapter Fourteen

Alissa was starting to paint again. Sketches, actually, for she had few hours to sit in the attic room she had claimed for a studio. At night, when she and Aminta were not invited to dinner or an informal dance or a musical program at one of the neighbors’ houses, she had the time, but the light was not good enough. So she drew, and planned in her head the paintings she would create, perhaps in the winter, when there was not as much to be done out-of-doors.

She also thought about hiring an instructor to teach her the art of oil painting. She had never had the funds for lessons or materials before. Now she did, and some of the subjects she wished to capture would do better in the heavier medium. Watercolors, with their light and airy feel, could not lend the heroic quality she wished in the portraits she wanted to paint. She had pads full of quick studies of the four boys, each so different, but she wanted to paint them together in one large portrait, a family. And her sister was so dear to her, so perfect in her youthful beauty, that Alissa wanted a large portrait of Amy as she was now, to keep for when she moved away to start a family of her own. Watercolors seemed too ephemeral to her, for such a lasting tribute.

After a few attempts, she did not feel she could convey the solidity, the sheer weight of Rock Hill itself in her usual softly flowing landscape style. Her efforts were good renderings and pretty, with the leaves turning colors, but Rock Hill was not pretty. It was massive and permanent, looming down over its holdings like a dragon guarding its hoard of treasures. Whenever she was out, visiting tenants or on collecting expeditions with the boys, she stopped to study her new home, viewing it from every angle, in all kinds of light, to plan the perfect painting.

She wrote letters in her mind too, picking just the right words to express her thoughts, the right tone to transmit her feelings. She would tell Rockford about his sister and how she was grieving for her lost love. Alissa could not be certain from the few conversations she’d had with Eleanor whether the lady was madder at being betrayed, or sadder at being alone. Even if Rockford had no insight to his sister’s heart, his forgiveness might help Eleanor forgive her own blunderings.

Alissa wanted to tell him what fine boys he had. Hugo was teaching Kendall German, from Rockford’s own schoolboy texts, and he had made her take the potions and elixirs away from his bedside. He was far healthier now, but she thought he also wanted more room for books. Oh, and she had to make note for Rockford that Hugo was a dab hand at croquet, although he did not fare well at cricket.