Beth Andrews (7 page)

‘The look upon your face was beyond price.’ Richard was both relaxed and deliciously mocking as he gently derided his friend.

‘I knew not which way to look,’ Julian confessed. ‘It was as though she were singing that awful song to me.’

‘No doubt she was.’

‘What do you mean?’

St George warmed a glass of brandy in one large, well-manicured hand. He seemed absorbed in contemplating the color of the liquid before consuming it.

‘Tonight’s performance was carefully orchestrated, stripling.’

‘Orchestrated?’ Julian repeated, mystified. ‘How so?’

‘Those two songs were specially chosen — I suspect by Miss Powell — to discomfit us, if possible. Failing that, they were at the very least a declaration that our beautiful dragon is well aware of what we are about.’

‘And Miss Woodford?’

‘Those two are as close as sisters, I would imagine.’ St George’s eyes narrowed. ‘There is very little that they do not share.’

‘So they both know that we are playing a deep game.’ Julian slid down in his chair, resigning himself to defeat. ‘Our position is hopeless then.’

‘Do not be so eager to surrender, little general,’ St George cautioned.

‘But how can we succeed, when our quarry is aware of our plans?’

‘There is always a weakness in even the most carefully constructed defence.’ The older man was calm and unconcerned by the difficulty. ‘In this case, I fancy it is the same weakness which led to the cat’s demise.’

‘Which cat?’ Julian was even more at sea now.

St George chuckled. ‘The one which was killed by Curiosity.’

‘Oh!’ The light broke upon his friend. ‘You believe that they are curious about us, since they are unused to any male companions beyond Mr Woodford and a few servants.’

‘Precisely.’

‘But they are hardly encouraging,’ Julian argued. ‘Miss Powell seems to have taken a strong dislike to you from the very first, and I am only surprised that she has not barred us from the house.’

‘But the fact is that she has not.’ Richard’s mouth curved slightly in something like a smile, but more deadly. ‘She may be repelled by what she believes me to be, but she is fascinated nonetheless.’

‘I still cannot forget that song.’ Julian shook his head. ‘I felt like the most vile creature alive — the worst felon yet unhanged.’

‘Which is precisely what Miss Powell intended.’

‘And what did she intend by her own performance?’

‘That,’ St George said, ‘was in the nature of a thrown gauntlet, or I am much mistaken.’

‘A declaration of war?’ Julian suggested.

‘A challenge which I am eager to accept. She is a wench all fire and spirit — a delightful dragon indeed. But I shall tame her.’

Julian’s brows drew together as he examined his friend’s countenance.

‘I very much fear that this battle may become our Waterloo.’

‘Take a lesson from Wellington, young Julian,’ St George counselled. ‘He always chose his battlefields very carefully.’

‘You delight in riddles, sir,’ Julian protested.

‘Thus far,’ Richard explained carefully, ‘we have fought only on the enemy’s field and on their terms. We need the advantage of having them on our own ground and on
our
terms.’

‘Get them away from the abbey?’ Julian was astonished. ‘It is like a fortress from which they never dare to venture out.’

‘Nor do they allow anyone in. And yet,’ St George reminded him, ‘we have breached the walls.’

‘But we are ignoble fighters, using a ruse to deceive them.’

‘One does what one must.’

‘I still do not see how we can accomplish it.’

‘On our own, we cannot,’ Richard acknowledged.

‘Then how?’

‘We must send for reinforcements.’

* * * *

The very next morning, St George closeted himself in the oak-panelled study which served as an office and library for the relatively small, twenty-room lodge. He wrote carefully, considering each word before dipping his quill. Even so, he discarded several sheets of paper before he had something which he felt was suitable for his purpose.

In the end, it was afternoon before he sealed his missive and dispatched it with a servant. He sat alone for some time after that. He had no compunction about their undertaking, as Julian seemed to have. He would win this wager by whatever means was necessary. Yet, for the first time, he began to examine his motives — to question himself.

At first their enterprise had been a mere diversion, an anodyne for a persistent malaise, the cause of which he could provide with neither a name nor an explanation. But now he was feeling something stir inside himself. It was something which he had not felt in a long time — so long that he scarcely recognized it. It was passion. For the chase, of course. Purely for the pleasure of hunting his quarry, for the thrill of conquest. That was all. Yes, surely, that was all.

It was two days more before the men returned to Folbrook Abbey. Julian would have paid their visit the previous day, as had originally been proposed, but Richard advised him that it would not be in their interests to seem over-eager. The ladies were already too much inclined to mistrust them.

In the end, it was almost noon when they knocked at the massive oak door which served as the main portal. It was not many minutes before Debenham appeared. He was polite but not cordial when he perceived them standing there. Whatever the women might feel, it was plain that here was someone not at all pleased to see them.

‘Good morning.’ Richard was amused rather than annoyed by the butler’s wooden countenance. ‘Would you be kind enough to inform Miss Woodford and Miss Powell that we are here?’

Before Debenham could reply, a burst of feminine laughter echoed through the hall. It appeared to come from a room to their left, and there was little doubt who had made so gay a sound in the stately residence.

‘If you will excuse me,’ Debenham said, ‘I shall see if the young ladies are receiving visitors at this time.’

With that, he turned and proceeded at a funereal pace in the direction of the laughter, which they could still hear — though somewhat less pronounced than before. In a very few moments he returned.

‘This way, gentlemen.’

Behind his back, Richard and Julian exchanged glances of mutual mirth which they could scarcely contain. He had obviously agreed to conduct them under duress. They followed him to a door, at which they paused as another outburst of laughter greeted them.

‘Mr St George and Mr Marchmont,’ Debenham announced.

The two young women were seated together on a sofa, trying to stifle their gaiety as the men approached. A large volume lay open upon Miss Powell’s lap.

‘That must be a most entertaining book,’ Julian suggested, as he and St George bowed their greetings.

‘It is much more than that!’ Miss Powell answered, her lovely lips still tilted up at the corners.

‘May one enquire what has produced such merriment?’ St George asked.

‘We are reading from the prophet Ezekiel,’ Cassandra informed them.

‘The Bible?’ Julian was taken aback at this.

‘I do not recall the Old Testament being particularly humorous,’ his friend commented, drily.

‘I dare say that it has been a long time since you have opened the Bible, sir.’

‘I cannot deny it.’

‘But you are both come at the very moment when your knowledge can be of great use to us!’

‘It is always a pleasure to oblige you, Miss Woodford,’ Julian gushed.

Miss Powell directed them to be seated, which offer they immediately accepted.

‘In what way can we assist you, ma’am?’ St George directed his question at Rosalind as he settled into his chair.

‘We were discussing the precise meaning of a passage in the twenty-third chapter, concerning two sisters called Aholah and Aholibah.’

‘What frightful names they had in those days,’ Julian commented irrelevantly.

‘Most exotic,’ Miss Powell admitted. She paused a moment, turning back the page to quote correctly: ‘ “Yet she multiplied her whoredoms, in calling to remembrance the days of her youth, wherein she had played the harlot in the land of Egypt. For she doted upon their paramours, whose flesh is as the flesh of asses, and whose issue is like the issue of horses. Thus thou calledst to remembrance the lewdness of thy youth, in bruising thy teats by the Egyptians for the paps of thy youth”.’

Both men sat in silence through this recitation. Julian, Richard noticed with real amusement, could not have been more shocked had the two women removed their garments and paraded naked before them. Having seen more than one nude female in his short lifetime, it would not have been half so startling as this unprecedented situation. It was he who first broke the silence, however.

‘Upon my word!’ he exclaimed, ‘I do not think such passages are proper reading for young ladies.’

‘Why not, sir?’ Cassandra enquired, all innocence.

‘I thought it most ... informative,’ her companion added.

‘Rather too informative, I should say.’

‘I believe that the Jewish rabbis do not allow even young men to study such passages,’ Richard explained. ‘One must be of a certain age before it is considered appropriate.’

‘That may be very well for the Jews,’ Rosalind opined, ‘but we are Christians.’

‘Hardly an argument in favour of such literature.’

‘Oh dear, Cassandra! Our guests,’ Rosalind lamented, ‘are offended by our hoydenish behaviour.’

‘You must forgive us, gentlemen,’ Miss Woodford hastened to explain. ‘We are quite isolated here, and once we bade farewell to the last unlamented tutor, we have been encouraged to read whatever we like. I fear that we have not the least notion of how young ladies in the fashionable world behave.’

Rosalind clenched her fingers and leaned her chin upon them, regarding the men with an air which seemed to Richard somewhat patronizing — not to say contemptuous.

‘It seems that we are neither silly nor insipid enough to satisfy society’s high sticklers,’ she said.

‘It is as well that we are not soliciting vouchers for Almack’s.’

‘Were you to quote anything so warm before one of the lady patronesses, you would certainly not set foot there again,’ St George agreed.

‘It all sounds horridly dull.’ Cassandra shook her head in some surprise. ‘I am beginning to think we miss nothing by remaining in the country.’

‘St George would probably agree with you there.’ Julian glanced at his friend.

‘I would not have thought you an admirer of the bucolic, sir,’ Rosalind said.

‘Any scene can give pleasure, where the company is as fine as this, Miss Powell.’ He looked directly into her eyes. ‘I assure you that I would much rather be here with you at this moment than anywhere I know of in Town.’

‘It is a beautiful day outside,’ Julian said, suddenly inspired. ‘Would you not enjoy a turn about the courtyard?’

The ladies both agreed that they would not object to leaving the confines of the house. They required only a few minutes to fetch their bonnets against the depredations of the summer sun, if the gentlemen would but excuse them....

* * * *

‘Can you believe that those two have been allowed to read such stuff!’ Julian said to his friend, as soon as they were alone in the room.

‘I imagine they have pretty much been allowed to run loose, so far as the restraints of the abbey permit.’ Richard rubbed his chin. ‘Mr Woodford has doubtless been too busy with his financial interests to supervise his daughter’s education very closely.’

‘It is a pity he has neglected his duties,’ Julian asserted piously.

‘It would have been a greater pity had those two been cut into the featureless silhouettes which are all that most young ladies seem to be nowadays.’

‘I never heard such speeches from the lips of any female I have ever known,’ Julian protested. ‘No decent woman would have spoken so. And yet I would have sworn them to be perfectly modest and chaste.’

‘More so than most women of my acquaintance.’

‘Then how to explain such coarseness?’ Julian shook his head in bewilderment. ‘Mama would have swooned had she heard such sentiments from my sister.’

‘Frankly, I found it most refreshing.’ St George stood and walked over to the arched window looking out on a walled rose garden in full bloom. ‘They neither are, nor pretend to be, ignorant and empty-headed misses.’

‘I never knew that such verses could be found in the Bible,’ Julian confessed, joining him. ‘I think I must speak to the vicar about this.’

St George chuckled softly. Julian was still an innocent himself, in some respects. Perhaps that was one of the reasons his young friend did not bore him. He yet retained his youthful ability to be shocked by things which had long ceased to amaze the older man. He was also capable of an enthusiasm which was quite charming at times. It had been a long time since Richard St George had experienced the same rush of excitement and expectation — until now.

‘The vicar is probably far more worldly than you are, stripling,’ he commented on Julian’s last words. ‘Indeed, there is a worldliness about the Church these days which would be amusing, were it not so deadly.’

‘Perhaps you should be in the pulpit yourself,’ Julian snapped a reply, probably not best pleased at this comparison.

‘I think I would have made an excellent preacher. Although,’ he added, smiling, ‘if there were many young ladies in my congregation as fascinating as Miss Powell, I might well forget my high calling.’

‘I hardly know how to speak to Miss Woodford after this morning,’ Julian complained.

‘If you can contrive to get her alone,’ St George suggested, ‘you might fare better. She is more receptive to your charms than her attendant dragon.’

* * * *

It was indeed a lovely summer day. The courtyard, with its splashing fountain and columned walk seemed to epitomize serenity and harmony. Even Welly, who accompanied them, had accepted the two men. For the most part, he ignored their presence. But when he encountered them at all, he was more likely to give a friendly sniff at their boots or to look up at them in anticipation of having his head scratched.