Carola Dunn (14 page)

“You are very persuasive,” she admitted. “There will be someone else there also?” Almost as if she did not realise it, she had set her horse walking again.

“Yes, Mr Marshall. You said you do not know him, but he is very insistent that he must see you. Mr Leigh is coming just to reassure you, because he is a parson so you can trust him.”

“I should trust Gerald if he were a tinker!” Beth assured her fervently. “If he thinks I ought to see Mr Marshall, I will do so, though I cannot imagine . . .”

They came out of the shade of the woods into a wide, grassy clearing dotted with huge old oaks. Mr Leigh was sitting alone on a fallen tree trunk, but Angel saw that Thunder was tethered beside his sorrel gelding. The young man rose when he saw them and came towards them.

Catherine and Angel dismounted but Beth, who had stopped in mid-sentence on catching sight of him, sat in the saddle as though transfixed. His face as pale as hers, he went to her, took her hand in both his, and looked up at her. After a moment of silent communion, he lifted her down.

“There is someone here to see you,” he told her, holding her hands. “He is waiting in the woods.”

“You will not leave me alone, Gerald?”

“Not unless you wish it, and I think you will. Come, Beth.”

He led her down a path that was little more than a rabbit track. Angel strained her eyes to see from the brilliant sunshine into the deep shade, but could make our nothing. They heard a sudden, wordless cry of joy from Beth. Then Mr Leigh returned to where they waited.

“I beg your pardon for not greeting you,” he apologised, now rather flushed. “Let me tie your horses. Will you sit down upon this log? I have spread a rug over it.

“How very thoughtful, Mr Leigh,” Catherine approved.

“I do not understand at all,” confessed Angel as the vicar led their mounts to the other side of the clearing. “It seemed quite clear for a moment that he and Beth are in love with each other, only then he took her to Mr Marshall and it does not appear to vex him in the least that they are alone together. Does she wish to marry both of them, like a Mohammedan?”

“I believe the Mohammedan men take several wives, and not the other way about,” Catherine pointed out with a sympathetic smile. “I know you are confused, Angel, but you will soon discover the whole, I am sure.”

Mr Leigh’s return silenced Angel’s demand for an explanation. They conversed in a desultory way upon topics of general interest, in which none of the three seemed to have any interest whatever. At last they heard the rustle of approaching footsteps. Swinging round, Angel saw the missing pair embrace, before they came arm in arm to rejoin the party.

The joy on Beth’s face was overwhelming, and quite unlike the pale hesitancy with which she had greeted Mr Leigh. She sparkled, thought Angel, and she almost danced up to them, while Mr Marshall, his arm about her waist, had a look of relaxed happiness very unlike his usual tense bearing. His limp was scarcely noticeable.

“Why did not you tell me?” cried Beth. “All these months I did not know if he was alive or dead!”

“I have not seen you,” reminded Mr Leigh gently.

“I guessed,” said Catherine, “but how could I tell you when I might have been wrong?”

“I’ve not the least idea what you are talking about,” grumbled Angel. “Will someone please enlighten me?”

Mr Marshall took her hand. “You mean you truly do not know, Linnet? I was certain you must at least suspect.”

“Suspect what?” she demanded, pulling her hand away in exasperation. “I vow I shall never speak to any of you ever again.

“Why, this is Dom!” explained Beth soothingly. “My brother, Lord Dominic Markham.”

“At your service, Miss Brand,” said Lord Dominic, and bowing low, he repossessed himself of her hand and raised it to his lips.

For once, Angel was speechless.

Catherine broke the brief silence. “I am loath to end this happy occasion,” she said, “but we have been gone a long time, the groom returned without us, and we must be on our way.”

“When shall I see you again, Dom?” asked Beth. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes, I don’t see why not. We can meet on Dowen Crag. Gerald?”

“I cannot see Lady Elizabeth again,” said Mr Leigh with uncharacteristic harshness, turning away. “Her father has forbidden it.”

“You came today,” pointed out Angel, who had by now recovered her voice.

“That is different. I regard his disinheritance of Dominic as unreasonable, indeed iniquitous. However, he does have the right to decide that I am not an eligible suitor for his daughter.”

Beth pulled on his arm until he was forced to face her. “What you do with your life is for you to choose,” she said quietly, “but will you ruin
my
life just because my father so decrees, when you have said yourself that he is unreasonable?”

“Beth, in this case he is not unreasonable. I am not worthy of you, you deserve a husband of rank and fortune, someone who can offer you—”

“If you abandon me again, I shall marry Francis Welch. Papa will make me, and I shall have no motive for resisting.”

“Welch wants to marry you?” asked Lord Dominic, interested. “You could do a lot worse, Beth.”

“How can you say so!” exclaimed Catherine and Gerald as one. The vicar went on, “After your long absence, Dom, you cannot know what sort of man he is.”

“You never did like him,” said his lordship dismissively. “He’s a bit of a rattle but a good enough fellow. Daresay Beth likes him well enough.”

“I like him,” put in Angel.

“Well, I do not,” stated Beth firmly. “But I shall have no alternative.”

Gerald groaned. “Miss Sutton, explain that I cannot honourably continue to see her. I must not!” Again he turned away, his face despairing.

“Fustian!” said Catherine. “I warned you not to trust to my ideas coinciding with yours. Male notions of honour are a deal too nice. My advice is to court her without secrecy, short of visiting the Hall, and when Lord Grisedale comes to hear of it, count on Sir Gregory to pull you through.”

“Oh, yes!” cried Beth, and flung herself into Gerald’s arms in such a way that he was forced to choose between embracing her and letting her fall.

“Gregory!” snorted Lord Dominic. “As well rely upon a spavined nag to win you a wager as on that prosy, preaching flat to be of the least assistance.”

“He does not like Lord Welch,” Catherine informed him, “and besides, Mr Leigh is a fellow preacher.”

He looked at her suspiciously, but she preserved a serious demeanor. Reluctant though she was to break up the reconciliation between the vicar and his beloved, time was passing and the last thing they wanted was to invite questions about their long absence. She pointed this out, and at last they all mounted and headed back towards Patterdale.

Lord Dominic, assured of meeting his sister the next day, was content to ride ahead with Miss Sutton and Miss Brand, leaving the reunited couple to follow. He guided the party from the lakeside to the lane.

“I don’t suppose we shall meet anyone who might recognise me,” he said carelessly, “and we can ride abreast here and talk.” He was in a gay mood and kept his companions well entertained, giving Angel a lesson in the nomenclature of the flowers by the wayside as they rode.

They went slowly, and when they were halfway to Patterdale they heard the thud of hooves coming up behind. Lord Dominic drew back into the shadow of a tree and pulled his hat down, but the rider who appeared was arrested by the sight of Beth and Gerald and did not notice him.

“Lady Elizabeth!” cried Lord Welch. “What the devil are you doing with Leigh?”

“It is none of your affair, Francis,” responded Beth defiantly.

“It most certainly is, when we are practically affianced. Not to mention the fact that your father has strictly forbidden you to see him. I wonder what the earl will have to say to this little escapade?”

“If you tell Papa, I shall kill myself before I marry you!”

“And if I don’t, you will run off with the parson!”

Catherine decided it was time to intervene as Gerald seemed to have been silenced by his uneasy conscience.

“Good afternoon, Lord Welch,” she said, riding back.

‘‘Oh, Miss Sutton . . . I had not seen . . . I beg your pardon, ma’am. Good afternoon.”

“Might I make a suggestion?” she offered. “If you do not inform Lord Grisedale of this meeting, Lady Elizabeth shall continue to receive you and permit you to court her as usual. Surely you can rely upon your manifest advantages to win her hand, if she is able to see Mr Leigh regularly instead of dreaming of him in an unrealistic way.”

The viscount considered her proposal. He was determined to have Beth willy-nilly, but it would be much pleasanter if she was agreeable, and vanity dictated that given a choice she would inevitably choose him. Besides, he could always tell Lord Grisedale at a later date if it seemed advisable.

“Very well,” he grunted. “Hullo, Markham. Coming out of hiding?”

Lord Dominic who, with Angel, had joined them, looked abashed. “You don’t sound surprised,” he said.

“Oh, I’ve known it was you staying at the vicarage any time these three weeks. I daresay half the country knows. I don’t suppose anyone is brave enough to tell your father, even should they wish to. Don’t worry, I shan’t give you away.”

“I said you were a good fellow, Welch. It’s deuced uncomfortable hiding out, and if everyone knows anyway I shall get about more. Don’t want Gregory to find out, though, so I’ll stay away from Grisedale.”

“Come over to Upthwaite Park sometime,” invited Lord Welch. “We’ll take out a gun after rabbits if you like.”

The two young men rode on together talking of sport. Brushing aside Beth’s thanks, Catherine urged the others to follow.

“I’ve no mind to have to think up excuses,” she declared.

Lord Dominic and Gerald Leigh had to leave them at the turning to Upthwaite, but the viscount rode with them to Barrows End. Thus provided with an unexpected excuse for their lateness, Angel was more inclined than ever to look upon Lord Welch with a favorable eye. And no one could accuse him of bothering Beth, she thought, for he had not addressed a single word to her all the way home.

Of course, if Beth preferred Mr Leigh, that was her own affair, but it was odd to choose a solemn parson over a dashing peer. Admittedly she was not in the least tonnish. Simply not up to snuff, Angel decided sadly, though she had the sweetest disposition imaginable and more resolution than one might give her credit for.

At least the meeting had cleared up one mystery.

“I am very glad,” she said to Catherine as they went upstairs, “that Lord Dominic is not in love with Beth after all!”

Chapter 11

“Dick Burchett called again while you were out,” said Mrs Sutton at dinner. “He does not seem disturbed to find you always gone when he comes, but you will not wish to give offence, I know. I told him I thought you had no other engagements on Friday and could visit Beckside Farm then.”

“Burchett?” queried Angel, her thoughts far away. “Oh, I remember. The odd one we met after church that first Sunday.”

“Of course we will go,” agreed Catherine. “He is so very unpretentious one cannot help but like him.”

“I promised to pay a visit to Mrs Burchett,” her mother added, “so I will come with you.”

“Unless the invitation is for ladies only, I believe I will join you,” proposed the vicar. “Apart from Lord Grisedale, Mr Burchett is the only landowner in the parish, and I should not like him to feel slighted.”

“Papa, I think you should put in a word for, was it Miss Betsy? It does not seem fair that the son should be kept from his true love because the father sets himself on high form.”

“Or a daughter!” added Angel with unexpected vehemence. “People are always talking about splendid matches and eligible connections, and all that really matters is loving each other. If I fell in love with, with, oh, say with Dick Burchett, I should not be in the least sorry to have whistled Damian down the wind.”

“I must hope you will not do so, my dear,” said her uncle, “for much as I sympathise with your views, I should find myself at a loss to explain it to your parents.”

“Not to mention Miss Betsy,” Catherine pointed out.

“Well, I will not, for I do not like him above half, but I daresay it will be amusing to see the farm, so I will tell Beth I cannot see her on Friday.”

“How is Lady Elizabeth?” asked Mrs Sutton. “I’m afraid she was sadly out of frame last Friday, though she seemed well at church. Her father’s manners must be a constant source of mortification to the poor child.”

“She was happy as a grig today. Aunt Maria, would you say that a minister is a respectable alliance for an earl’s daughter?”

“As the granddaughter of an earl myself, I can hardly deny it, Angel. Of course, my papa was merely a second son.”

“Well, he was my grandfather, so you cannot expect me to concern myself with that.”

“May I enquire where this sudden interest in genealogy is leading?” requested the vicar.

Suddenly aware that she was jeopardising a secret not her own, Angel clapped her hand to her mouth.

“I think you had best not, Papa,” said Catherine calmly. “I can assure you that Angel is not at present contemplating marriage with a clergyman.’’

“My father is a marquis,” Angel pointed out.

Mr and Mrs Sutton exchanged amused glances, and kindly allowed the subject to drop.

Angel and Catherine walked up the Crag with Beth the next day. It was cloudy, and much cooler than the last time Angel had accomplished the climb, but she swore the path had grown steeper in the interim. Lord Dominic, waiting with his dog at the top, grinned heartlessly as they flopped down on the great rock to catch their breath.

“If we are to meet here often,” he said, “we shall have to take a groom into our confidence. Who usually rides with you, Beth, Abel? We can trust him. He’d have come to Spain with me if I’d let him.”

“Pray tell us about Spain, Lord Dominic,” Angel begged, and then remembered, “Oh no, you do not like to talk of it, do you?”

“That was when I thought it would give me away. And while we are on the topic, would you both please call me Dom, as Beth does? Then if anyone overhears, they will think you are saying Don, for Donald.”