Jilted (13 page)

‘Ilam must find a bride,’ responded her host. ‘He never goes to London; therefore it follows that he will probably look for a
country
girl.’

‘All the young ladies will be looking out their best gowns and primping and preening so as to attract his attention,’ remarked Evangeline, lifting her glass to receive more wine and quite
ignoring
her mother who was shaking her head. ‘Not that it will do them any good. He takes no notice of any of them.’

‘Have you known Lord Ilam all your life?’ Eustacia asked Evangeline that night. They were both ready for bed, and Evangeline had wandered along to her guest’s room to chat with her whilst sitting on her bed.

‘Mostly,’ the other girl replied. ‘He came to live at a farm nearby not long after he was born, so he has always been around here on and off – apart from when he was away at school. I expect you know all about that already.’

‘Yes, he took me to meet the Crossleys,’ replied Eustacia.

‘He really is quite eccentric, continuing to go there all the time,’ Evangeline remarked. ‘He’s sometimes called a country bumpkin for that very reason. Yet he does not seem to want to cut the connection. I think it very strange.’

‘Perhaps he feels that he owes them a debt of gratitude for bringing him up,’ said Eustacia. She found Evangeline’s remarks
rather offensive, but did not want to start a quarrel with the young woman in her own home.

‘That could easily be paid with a hamper at Christmas and a gift of money now and then,’ pointed out the other carelessly. ‘Mind you, he does make a terrible figure of himself at times. Would you believe he actually works alongside the field hands at harvest time?’

‘It doesn’t surprise me,’ Eustacia answered, thinking of how absorbed he had been in all the farm concerns when they had been there.

‘Anyway, he must be interested in you if he has taken you to the farm,’ Evangeline remarked. ‘Hardly any girls can boast that he’s done that.’

‘It’s because we’re almost related,’ Eustacia replied, blushing.

‘Oh, pooh!’ responded Evangeline contemptuously. ‘What does that signify if a man is attractive?’

‘I thought that you said that you were not interested in him,’ said Eustacia suspiciously.

‘No, I’m not; but it doesn’t mean I can’t recognise a well-
looking
man when I see one.’

‘What about the gentleman that you are interested in?’ Eustacia asked her. ‘Is he handsome?’

Evangeline refused to be drawn. ‘I am hoping that he may come to the garden party and perhaps to the ball as well,’ she answered, her eyes twinkling. ‘Then you will see for yourself.’

The next time that Eustacia saw Lord Ilam, he was clearly a harassed man. ‘It’s this dam— dashed garden party,’ he told his aunt, as they sat together in the vicarage drawing-room. ‘I can’t tell you the sleepless nights I’ve had over it.’

‘It’s not your first,’ replied Lady Agatha. ‘It shouldn’t affect you like that.’

‘It shouldn’t, but it does,’ he replied, running his hand over his lustrous brown hair.

‘You must enjoy seeing people taking pleasure in your estate,’ Eustacia suggested.

‘Believe me, ma’am, at this moment, I would enjoy sending each and every possible visitor to perdition,’ he replied frankly.

‘That’s not very civil of you, Gabriel,’ said his aunt.

Realizing the implications of what he had said, he turned a dull red. ‘Needless to say, I am not referring to present company,’ he murmured.

‘How could you be, when the only thing that makes the whole business bearable is the help that I give you?’ said her ladyship reasonably. ‘Do you have the list of tasks from last year?’

‘I have it,’ replied Ilam, drawing a sheaf of papers from inside his coat. ‘Of course, what makes everything more complicated is the fact that the steward is newly appointed.’

‘Bring it into the library and we’ll have a look at it.’

During the next half an hour or so, Eustacia felt as much at home as she had ever felt since her arrival in Illingham. Her mother and father were hospitable people, and she had often been
included in their conferences concerning similar affairs. She was therefore able to listen to Lord Ilam’s and Lady Agatha’s
discussions
with understanding, and she even felt able to contribute some suggestions of her own.

At last, they had gone through the whole list, and Lord Ilam’s brow looked much lighter than when he had arrived. He willingly agreed to toast the success of the venture in a glass of wine, and before he left, his mood was so much improved that he bestowed a kiss upon his aunt’s cheek, a thing that Eustacia had never seen him do before. ‘Thank you,’ he said, his cheerful expression making him look much more like his twenty-five years than usual. ‘I do not know how I could have managed without you.’

‘Remember that Eustacia has been of great assistance as well,’ his aunt put in.

‘I do not forget,’ he replied, stepping forward, colouring and hesitating, before catching hold of her hand and raising it to his lips. She wondered whether he had wanted to salute her cheek instead. Of course, she was too much a lady to speculate as to whether she, too, would have preferred it!

To mask her embarrassment, she said ‘Mary Wollstonecraft writes that many individual women have more sense than their male relatives.’

‘Clearly she’s a sensible woman herself,’ observed Lady Agatha tartly.

‘Does she so?’ Ilam asked, wrinkling his brow. ‘Is that in the
Vindication of the Rights of Woman
?’

‘Why yes,’ Eustacia replied in surprise. ‘Have you read it?’

‘It has not come in my way, but I found her
Vindication of the Rights of Man
persuasive,’ he answered, surprising her.

Soon after this, he took his leave.

‘Fancy the boy’s kissing me,’ Lady Agatha remarked. ‘It almost makes me feel guilty for deceiving him.’ She did not sound
particularly
contrite. This impression was confirmed when she added, ‘One good thing is that he’ll be so busy organizing this affair to concern himself with my dispute with the Church, at least for the present.’

Just as the whole village seemed to be looking forward to the garden party, the very future of the function was threatened by a fierce storm which visited the area just two days before the event.

‘Wind’s getting up,’ Trixie remarked to her mistress as she helped to get her ready for bed. Sure enough, something woke Eustacia in the middle of the night, and she became aware of a roaring noise, which she identified as the sound of the wind as it howled around the house, and rushed through the trees. She thought of the huge fir tree that stood near to Woodfield Park and hoped that the storm would not go anywhere near her own home. She was glad that all the trees near to the vicarage were much smaller in size.

Conscious that she was beginning to worry to no purpose – for there was nothing that she could do to cause the wind to abate its fury – she lit her candle and took up her book, hoping for wise guidance from Miss Wollstonecraft. The lady did indeed have some good sense to offer.

The term ‘gust’ seemed particularly apposite. Unfortunately, the fact that Eustacia could and did castigate herself for being foolish did not put an end to her anxieties, and she put her book aside, unable to concentrate upon it.

Just when she thought the wind might go on for ever, it began to drop, but then the rain started lashing against the windows. As she was wondering whether anybody else in the house was being kept awake by the storm, Lady Agatha knocked on her door saying that she could not sleep and would Eustacia like a hot drink. The
two ladies went downstairs to the kitchen only to find Trixie and one of the housemaids about exactly the same errand. The four of them sat in the kitchen enjoying a cup of warm milk before going back to bed.

The following morning, the wind had dropped. The rain
continued
with far less force, gradually petering out mid-morning, when the sun came out, making everything look fresh and new.

‘It’s almost as if nature had gone out of its way to give
everything
a wash just to oblige Gabriel,’ Lady Agatha remarked when Eustacia said how lovely the garden looked. The two ladies had gone outside to inspect the vicarage garden for any damage. ‘I do hope than none of the trees has come down in Illingham Park. Some of them are very old, and that would be an added task that he could do without at the moment.’

After lunch, as Lady Agatha did not need her for anything, Eustacia decided to walk into the village and see if the storm had caused any damage. She met the doctor who told her that as far as he knew, no one had been hurt as a result of the storm. ‘Mrs Ross has given birth to her new baby early,’ he told her. ‘She vows and declares it was fright that did it.’

‘But mother and baby are both doing well, I hope,’ said Eustacia anxiously.

‘Oh yes indeed, ma’am,’ he replied. ‘I have to say, it does worry me, though, the state of affairs that we are in with no vicar. Suppose something had gone wrong with the birth? Poor Mrs Ross might have died without benefit of clergy.’

‘Oh,’ murmured Eustacia.

‘By the way, did you know that John Flew’s cottage has been damaged?’

‘Pardon?’ said Eustacia, because she was thinking about the other matter. Then she said, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know which cottage you mean.’

‘The one at the far end of the village,’ replied the doctor. ‘It seems that a tree came down on it in the night.’

‘Was anyone hurt?’ Eustacia asked.

‘No, thank God. His lordship will find Flew and his family
somewhere else to live while the cottage is mended. It belongs to the estate. Well I’d best be on my way. Good day Miss Hope.’

After they had parted, Eustacia went straight to Mrs Ross’s cottage to see the new baby. She was admitted by the Rosses’ eldest daughter, who looked to be about twelve years of age. The cottage was spotless and Mrs Ross, tucked up in bed with her baby in her arms, seemed to be in good health and excellent spirits. She thanked Eustacia for her good wishes and told her that her husband would be pleased. ‘He’s our first boy, you see, miss. Sid loves all his children, and you couldn’t have a better nor more helpful child than our Cissie what opened the door to you; but he’s glad to have a boy this time. Do you want to hold him, miss?’

Eustacia took the sleeping baby with some trepidation, for she had never held such a small child before. ‘What have you decided to call him?’ she asked the child’s mother.

‘Edmund, after the saint that named our church,’ replied Mrs Ross. ‘I’m that thankful to have been preserved after last night. I do hate storms, miss. I quite thought that I would die of fright. But there now, all’s well that ends well.’

Eustacia soon handed the baby back, and declined to stay for a cup of tea. ‘I’ll come another day,’ she said. ‘Apparently a tree has come down on a cottage and I want to report the matter to Lady Agatha.’

After she had left Mrs Ross, Eustacia set off to visit the cottage, her mind deep in thought. When she had first arrived in the village she had been shocked at Lady Agatha’s determination to flout the wishes of the bishop. Then she had begun to find the whole
business
amusing and a harmless means of defying Lord Ilam after his earlier rudeness to her. Now, she remembered what the doctor had said about how Mrs Ross might have died without a clergyman to comfort her. Had that happened then she would at least have been partly to blame because she had colluded in Lady Agatha’s plans, if only in a small way.

In some ways, to tell Lord Ilam about his aunt’s plotting seemed disloyal, not only because her godmother had taken her in when she had needed a refuge, but also because she had compromised
her own reputation for Claire Delahay years before. Now that she, Eustacia, had realized how the villages were being denied spiritual solace, she could not see how she could do anything else. It occurred to her that her godmother might be so annoyed at her perfidy that she would send her home forthwith, but that could not be helped.

Her parents’ reaction held no terrors for her. They had always been prepared to listen to her and Lady Hope would be horrified at the deceit that her friend had practised. Her only fear there was that tales of hers might result in coldness between Lady Agatha and Lady Hope. She sighed. She had become rather fond of this place in a short period of time. If her godmother was particularly annoyed, she might even send her home before the garden party and the ball. She did not want to miss those. Then there were the people that she would miss: Evangeline Granby, the Crossleys, Lady Agatha, Gabriel. No, decidedly, she did not want to leave Gabriel. Then, as if forming his name in her mind had conjured him up, she saw him.

She had just turned a corner and come upon the damaged cottage. A number of men were working on clearing the tree and trying not to cause any more damage to the house in the
meantime
. The tree, a massive horse-chestnut, had broken through the thatched roof, and brought down part of the wall as well. A great carthorse with enormous hairy feet was standing by, harnessed to a pair of chains which at the moment lay slack on the ground, looking rather like sleeping serpents. Lord Ilam seemed to be directing operations, but by his appearance he had obviously been helping in very practical ways too. He had stripped to his shirt sleeves, and his linen was looking quite soiled. His boots were caked in mud, and his breeches bore several black marks. More of his hair had escaped from its confining ribbon than was still controlled by it, and there was a streak of mud on his tanned cheek. He looked active, absorbed and healthy. Point-de-vice he was not, but Eustacia thought that he had never looked more attractive or more manly.

As she arrived, Ilam and another man were finding the best way
of attaching the chains to the tree in order to pull it away from the house. Three other men were helping in the task. One was on the portion of the roof that was still sound, sawing off some of the branches, whilst another held them steady and still another waited on the ground to take them and lay them down.

‘Fine bit of firewood there when it’s dry,’ remarked an elderly man who, along with two or three urchins and a couple of women was standing and watching the proceedings. Two of the boys started rootling about amongst the fallen branches and soon found two smaller pieces with which they began to indulge in a mock sword fight. None of the adults present seemed to feel that it was their responsibility to draw them away so that they could play elsewhere. Presumably this was because the adults themselves did not want to miss anything. Eustacia would have liked to send the children out of harm’s way, but did not feel that it was her place, especially when she heard one boy refer to one of the women as ‘Mam’.

All went well until they got a little too near the horse and one of them caught him on the flank. The horse, an exceptionally quiet and placid animal, understandably took exception to this, and began to toss his head and stamp his feet.

‘Someone go to Pluto’s head,’ shouted Ilam imperatively, ‘and get those children away, for God’s sake!’

There was a moment’s hesitation, then the woman who had been called ‘Mam’ took hold of the two boys each by the arm and led them away. The other adults on the ground looked at each other then at the size of the horse. ‘I’m not going near that gurt big thing,’ muttered the old man. His words seemed to give voice to the general view.

Seeing that no one else was going to obey his lordship’s commands, Eustacia walked quickly but calmly over to the horse, making sure that he could see her. Then, talking to him all the time, she caught hold of his bridle. Her arm was nearly at full stretch and, had he chosen to be recalcitrant, she would have been in great difficulty. Fortunately, such was his temperament that it only needed a word of reassurance and a gentle hand for him to calm down.

The chains were soon properly attached, and Ilam scrambled down athletically, followed by the other man. It was only when the viscount came to take hold of the horse that he saw who was
holding
him steady. A slow grin spread across his features. ‘All’s well, I see,’ he said. ‘Bruno could never move with your firm hand upon his bridle.’

Eustacia looked up at him. She could now see that his manual labour had wrought more havoc than she had thought at first. His shirt had been ripped down the middle, tearing off half the buttons, and revealing a broad expanse of well-muscled, hairy chest, gleaming with sweat and slightly marred by a small graze.