Christmas Delights (13 page)

Had he ever thought to ask? She would not tell him the truth now, with a child-sized conduit straight to her father sitting in the backseat.

“I do not assume your adoration, only your gratitude for my conveying you to Brighton.”

She laughed heartily at that, turning her head so that he saw only her public face again, and not the more secret side of her. “A gentleman should be pleased to do any favor for a lady.”

“But I am promised to the earl,” he said. “I am disappointing my patron.”

“Oh.” She dismissed the thought. “You are too successful to be so beholden. I have heard all about you from Rose. A man who can command any fee he wishes for his work is not a man in thrall to anyone.”

He wondered if she really saw him that way. People were now offering him a level of respect he’d never received before, especially from his uncle, Sir Bartley Redcake, who had treated him almost as a nuisance even while he proceeded to transform the man’s businesses with his innovative, time-saving inventions. He still found it hard to behave as a success. Arrogance did not seem to be part of his nature. But, perhaps more importantly, he did as he pleased most of the time, and three years earlier that had not really been the case. By that alone he knew he’d come a long way.

He’d also been able to build his own workspace. A house, a couple of servants to keep him fed and dressed, the financial responsibility of Eddy and some other employees, all of them had been easy to afford. He could hold his head high and do what he liked with the majority of his day.

“As you say,” he told Victoria. Would she respond better to assurance than naked need? If he thought only about the next night, the next gift of sex, would that carry him through?

By early afternoon, they had reached the outskirts of Brighton. Small cottages dotted the landscape, surrounded by trees and the bare winter plots of summer vegetable gardens.

Victoria kept an anxious eye on landmarks. “That must be the church, and there is the vicarage with the bronze weather vane.”

Lewis nodded and drove into the field next to the cottage where Clarissa Courtnay lived. When the engine was off, he asked, “Should I go in first and see if the situation is suitable for Penelope?”

“Certainly not,” Victoria said. “We must all know the truth.”

“Victoria,” Lewis said in a soft voice, “I cannot agree with you.”

Her lips tightened and she glanced into the rear, where Penelope was curled up on the bench, asleep. “Very well.”

Lewis hopped down and walked up the shell-strewn path to the front door of the cottage. He used the knocker and was rewarded a few minutes later by the appearance of a sober-looking woman dressed in an old-fashioned black dress with a wide skirt.

“My name is Lewis Noble. I have brought Mrs. Courtnay’s daughter and niece for a visit if she is receiving,” he told the woman.

She registered no surprise, as he might have expected, but the hour was such that visitors might be likely to call. “I will ask her to come into the sitting room.”

He tried to smile, but the emotion died before it reached his lips. She was so stoic. Did she need that level of control to live in the midst of madness?

When he reached the cart, he found Penelope awake and in the front seat with Victoria.

“Can I see Mother now?” the child asked.

“Yes.” He shrugged at Victoria.

“Did she come to the door?” she asked.

“No, there was a servant.” He held out his hand and Victoria took it. The press of one glove against another held little intimacy, and he wished he could cup her cheek, kiss her brow, in support of what was likely to be a difficult meeting. Either her aunt would be mad or not, and that meant either disappointing Penelope or causing Victoria to lose faith in her father and uncle.

She looked tense as she helped her cousin exit the carriage in turn. Lewis pulled a tarp from the back and spread it over the seats so they would remain dry, then followed them to the front door. The servant gestured them in without further speech, and they were directed to a plain sitting room, far too large for the limited furnishings. Victoria and Penelope sat in straight-backed wooden chairs that had been only roughly finished.

The family had plenty of money, so why the poor surroundings? Had no one checked on the situation? Lewis began to think for the first time that Victoria had been right to demand to come. He stood next to the unlit fireplace and wondered where the household sat during the day. While the temperature was above freezing, it had surely been that low overnight and was scarcely temperate now. He left his gloves on, and only unwound his muffler. The servant had not offered to take any of their coats.

Impatient, he began to search for a coal scuttle. Penelope shivered and Victoria wrapped her arm around the girl.

“I thought we would come inside to warm up,” she said. “But it isn’t much warmer.”

“We’re out of the rain at least,” Lewis said. “This household might need some reordering.”

Victoria nodded. “I am not pleased. At least it is clean, though.”

After a few more moments of waiting, the servant returned, followed by a very thin woman with watery blue eyes and Penelope’s wide mouth.

The girl sat up straight when she saw her mother, but Lewis was surprised to see she didn’t run into her arms, or even attempt to do so. Instinctively, she knew that was a bad idea.

Clarissa Courtnay did not speak, merely regarded her daughter and niece impassively. He wondered if she’d been dosed with opiates.

Victoria forced a smile and rose. “Aunt Clarissa.” She stepped forward and gave her aunt a hug.

The woman did not pull away, but she didn’t respond either.

“I brought Penelope for a visit.” Victoria chattered on about their reason for being in the area, Penelope’s cold, the other children visiting the nursery, the masquerade ball.

Penelope talked a little about the fairy tale Victoria had been telling her but stayed huddled on her chair. The servant stood in the corner, ever watchful but offering nothing.

After a few minutes, the women had seated themselves. Victoria continued to chatter brightly, but her gaze roamed the room.

“I know you hate me,” Clarissa Courtnay said suddenly.

Penelope’s mouth drooped as Victoria protested.

“Of course not, Aunt Clarissa. We’ve missed you and love you dearly,” Victoria said.

“I know it,” Mrs. Courtnay insisted.

“It’s time for a rest,” said the servant, stepping forward. She held out her hand to her charge, and Mrs. Courtnay stood obediently.

Penelope rose from her chair so suddenly that it teetered on three legs. She flew at her mother, grabbing her around the waist. “When are you coming home? I want to go home!”

Mrs. Courtnay stared off into the distance as her daughter sobbed against her bodice. He saw Victoria blink hard, a sheen of tears in her eyes.

“The lady says I must remain here,” Mrs. Courtnay said.

“What lady?” asked Victoria.

The woman seemed not to hear her. “I’m to be here to greet the king when he returns.”

“There hasn’t been a king for over fifty years,” Victoria said. She clasped her hands together in front of her. Lewis could see the tension in her rounded shoulders, the way her arms were held stiffly against her body.

“Well, now,” said the servant, “Mrs. Courtnay is ready for a lie-down. I will return to escort you out.”

Lewis helped Victoria pull the sobbing Penelope away from her mother, who never lifted a hand one way or another. Victoria held Penelope tightly as the two women exited the room.

“You’re shivering,” he said. He quickly took off his greatcoat and wrapped it around her shoulders, then tucked the outer edges around Penelope.

The trio stood silently for a moment.

Victoria broke the silence eventually. “I have never known Aunt Clarissa not to offer tea. Not ever. She was always so polite.”

“I think she’s taking medicine,” Lewis said.

She nodded. “I saw her pupils. I hate to think how bad she is without it, if she can say such things while so heavily medicated.”

“She doesn’t know what she is saying,” Lewis said.

“I’m never going home,” Penelope said, breathing heavily between each word. “Mother is never going to be well.”

“We do not know that,” Victoria said. “But it is best to be realistic. At least she is calm, and clean.”

Though not particularly well cared for
. “Do you think there are fires in other parts of the house?”

“I would assume the kitchen is warm, at least. This room is not very welcoming. There might be another parlor.”

Judging from the circumference of the outer walls, Lewis doubted it. Mrs. Courtnay might spend much of her day locked in her bedchamber, for instance. “We’ll check the chimneys when we go,” he said. “Make sure there is smoke coming out of some of them. I half-expected to meet your father here, since he has been away.”

Victoria sighed. “I have no idea where he went. He doesn’t like to say.”

A mistress? Likely. Lewis wondered again if the man was any kind of suitable match for Rose, though her choices were limited. He remembered hearing how the Dickondell men had surrounded her like bees around a flower when she had first moved into the area a few years ago, but they had scarcely noticed her at the house party. Clearly she had been declared unsuitable for them, and now that two of them had snagged the earl’s sisters they were above Rose’s touch. Her ill health was all too evident.

Penelope had calmed by the time the servant returned ten minutes later. Victoria’s expression hardened when she saw the woman.

“Do you have enough money to run this household sufficiently?” she demanded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then why is my aunt so thin? Why is there no fire? Why didn’t you ask my aunt if she wanted to serve tea?”

The servant’s expression remained utterly impassive. “You will not wish to discuss this in front of the child.”

“I’ll take Penelope,” Lewis said. He helped Victoria unravel the child from around her waist and walked her back toward the kitchen. While it was a stunning breach of etiquette, she needed to warm up before they left.

While the fireplace was cold in the kitchen as well, the stove was hot and the room was at least twenty degrees warmer. He took a cloth and poured steaming water from the kettle into a cup.

“Put your hands around that,” he told Penelope. “Drink it when it cools.”

“Thank you,” she said, sitting in the chair closest to the stove.

He poked around a bit, and decided the kitchen was well enough stocked for him to take a bit of bread and cheese for the child. He cut off slices of both and warmed them in the oven until the cheese was melted, then served her.

Penelope ate slowly, her solemn expression telling him without words how utterly bereft she was. When her food and water were gone, she put one hand to her forehead, the picture of childish despair.

“Will she ever be better?”

“It can happen,” Lewis said. “But I do not know what the chance of it is. I know so little of what has transpired.”

“Will I go mad?” Penelope said in a tiny voice.

“I do not know that either,” he admitted. “But you cannot spend your life worrying about it. You have to be strong and take what pleasure you can in each day unfolding after the next.”

“I feel quite desperate sometimes.” She gulped air, her small chest heaving.

“Your mother was perfectly well for a very long time, correct?” he asked.

“I suppose.”

“She must be in her thirties,” he ventured. Of course, now that he was in his thirties, it did not seem like such a long time to hang on to sanity.

Penelope nodded.

“Don’t worry,” he said, trying not to show any anxiety. “I’m certain you will be fine.”

“You are?”

“You are also your father’s daughter, and you have a strong character, Miss Penelope Courtnay. Very like your cousin. I don’t see an ounce of surrender in you.”

“No?” Her lips curved into a tiny smile.

He shook his head. “I believe you will fight hard against anything, though I would attempt to moderate your temper.”

“People say such mean things,” she muttered.

“I’m sure they do, but it is a reflection upon them, not you. Say a prayer for them instead of giving in to heated emotions.”

“Mr. Noble?”

He heard Victoria’s muffled voice on the other side of the green baize door. The door opened and she appeared.

“Are you ready to depart?” She looked pale but composed.

For himself, he could not wait to leave. They would be pushing daylight on their return and he didn’t like the idea of driving on the mucky path around the lake after dark.

He took Penelope’s cup and poured another few ounces of steaming water into it. “Here, drink this before we leave.”

Victoria took the cup gratefully.

“I am sorry I did not offer refreshments,” the servant said, entering silently. “I explained why. Would you like me to serve you now?”

“I understand,” Victoria said, inhaling the steam from the cup. “And no, we must be on our way.”

“I took some bread and cheese for the child,” Lewis said.

The woman nodded, unperturbed.

Five minutes later, they were back in the carriage. While the motor warmed, Lewis checked the chimneys. Only one had smoke rising. “They are going to freeze.”

“It is better than burning,” Victoria said. “I will explain later, but for now, let us return to Pevensey.”

He nodded and drove out of the field. Penelope huddled under her furs and wrapped the tarp into a kind of a tent around her, even though they had the awning to protect them from the occasional drizzle. Victoria pressed herself tightly against Lewis, her head drooping against his shoulder at times.