Lady Madeline's Folly (17 page)

“You don’t call a gentleman a deceiving scoundrel without paying for it, Madeline. If you had not apologized... Well at least you had that much common sense. This is all Henry Aldred’s doings. I feel it in my bones.”

“There would be no point in his having done it. Papa does not suspect him either.”

“Maybe not, but he knows full well it was not Eskott, and so do you.”

After a lengthy deliberation, Madeline convinced herself no one had opened her father’s letters at all. She was sorry she had accused Eskott of it without thinking what she said, but only rising to his taunt that Henry was the culprit. He would be in a snit for weeks probably. No matter, she would bring him around her thumb, as she always did. She did not wish to lose his friendship. She would be especially nice to him the next time he called.

Before she retired, her father came up to read her a great, thundering scold for her impudence in speaking so rudely to a caller in his home.

“As though Eskott would do such a thing. We have known him any time these thirty years, and his family before him for eons. I was never so embarrassed in my life, to hear you make such a wicked display of yourself. We may count ourselves fortunate this did not end in the court of twelve paces. It is only my advanced age and Eskott’s common decency that prevented it, and not that tight-lipped, insincere apology you were pleased to offer. We’ll not see
his
face at St. James’s Street again. I’ll be ashamed to meet the man on the street. You will write him an apology, Madeline, and enclose it in a letter with mine.”

“I have already apologized. There is no need for you to do it, Papa.”

“You are my daughter. I must take the responsibility for your actions. I am grievously disappointed in you. Write the letter, and show it to me before you send it off. I don’t know what excuse you may find to offer. I personally can think of nothing to account for your inexplicable behavior.”

“You overlook the fact that someone opened your letters, Papa. If not Eskott, then who?”

“That remains to be discovered. It cannot be left hanging like this. I should think Eskott’s speaking so openly of his knowledge in front of us must have told you he was innocent, if your trust in his character did not. It is a fine kettle of fish. And just when I had hoped...”

“What?” she asked, curious.

“Why to tell the truth, Meggie had led me to hope he might be in the way of offering for you again. He stops by often enough. It is high time you were settled into a home of your own. I won’t live forever, and you need not expect my heir to open his doors to you. You never rubbed along with your Morash cousins.”

“But Eskott is a Whig!”

“What of it? He is a gentleman, extremely eligible. I do not despise any man for sticking to his principles, even if they differ from my own. There is something to be said for Brougham’s boys after all. They want to rush pell-mell into the future, instead of inching slowly forward, but that is because they are young—younger by and large than our party. They are the future. Changes must come. Even the most reactionary of us realize that. If I were younger... But I am not. I am too old to turn my jacket on my old friends now. And so are you getting on in years, milady. You are too old to be playing the flirt. Rid yourself of Aldred’s company, and settle on someone respectable while you still have enough youth to nab yourself a good husband. Not Eskott, alas.”

He sighed wearily, looking every one of his more than seventy years. Her heart went out to him. “I’m sorry, Papa,” she said humbly.

“I should hope so,” he answered gruffly, and left.

Chapter Fifteen

A probable reason for Henry’s having spied on Lord
Fordwich soon came to light. A positive confirmation that he was indeed the culprit followed hard on its heels. He did not appear at St. James’s Street on the following morning, but sent a stiff note informing his lordship that he had accepted the candidacy for a riding close to his own home, arranged for him by a friend of his father’s. It was as a Whig he was running, or being appointed, for it was another of those rotten boroughs he mentioned. He expressed every civil gratitude for the kind attentions shown him by his cousins, et cetera.

“The turncoat!” Lady Margaret declared when her brother showed her the missive. “It is clear now why he was dragging his feet in accepting any position you found for him. It was his intention all the time to revert to his father’s party.
Using
us, and causing a deal of mischief into the bargain. It must be Aldred who read your letters, and sent the word to his Whig conspirators, don’t you think, Fordwich? That is how Eskott heard of it, but he did not realize the source.”

“It begins to look that way. There are plenty of underhanded types in both parties who would not flinch at such a stunt. He was at Westminster for me yesterday. I’ll make inquiries and try to discover if he was seen talking to any of them.”

“You’ll not go out with that cold. You’re sneezing ten times an hour.”

“I must. Send word to the stables to put in some heated bricks, and warm me a blanket there by the grate, Meggie, if you please. Where is Maddie?”

“Upstairs. Give me Aldred’s letter. I’ll be happy to show it to her. This will cure her.”

“Cure her? You are not still prattling on that idea she has a
tendre
for Aldred!”

“You would have had him for a son-in-law before the year was out, if it were not for this letter.”

She laid his blanket out by the grate, gave word regarding the hot bricks, and pranced upstairs, happy to be the bearer of such ill news for her niece, when its eventual outcome must be beneficial to the girl’s welfare.

“I don’t believe it!” was Madeline’s first reaction. “He wouldn’t do this to me. He couldn’t...”

“No, and couldn’t go snooping through your father’s private correspondence either, I suppose? Well he has done it, and good riddance say I.”

A letter was soon being slipped out the back door by the good graces of a footman. It was directed to the Albany, and requested in rather peremptory tones that Aldred present himself at St. James’s Street at his soonest convenience to meet Lady Madeline. It was not the man but a letter that came an hour later, explaining that Mr. Aldred was no longer in the employ of Lord Fordwich, and any further meetings at St. James’s Street were unlikely. Any further correspondence must be delayed, as he was leaving that same day for home, to meet with his new sponsor, Mr. Leadbeater. The name was not recognized by Madeline.

She had never heard it, did not know he was the uncle of Agnes Dannaher. In fact, she did not know even the girl by name. There was not a word of love, or explanation, or apology. “Naturally our former plans, vague and tenuous as they always were, will be ineligible now, as Lord Fordwich will dislike my suit, but my principles must take precedence. I know you will agree with me in this. Sincerely...”

The more she read, the more indignant she became, till at last she could hardly hold the sheet steady. Principles indeed! His only principle was self-advancement. Something or someone had convinced him he would get ahead sooner on the left side of the House. That was his great principle. No doubt there was an heiress in the picture somewhere. A rapid survey of her friends and acquaintances led her to Taffy Barker to ascertain this point, but she was too ashamed to send for him. She would ask him the next time they met socially. The likeliest place to meet him that week was at Lady Wethercote’s rout party.

She was on the fidgets all day, unable to settle down, or even sit down. She paced about her room for an hour, then went belowstairs to pace the length of the Gold Saloon, reviewing the history of her association with Henry, and finding a fresh insult at every turn. She had taken a greenhorn from the country, got him properly outfitted and housed, introduced him to everyone, personally sponsored him into the ton, got him two or three good offers of employment, and this was her thanks. He turned and bolted on her the instant he got an offer he liked more. The offer was no better than the first one from Tilsit he had turned down either. Only an M.P. for a small borough. What was there in it that he should snap it up so fast? She had the liveliest suspicion that there was a girl, and a rich one, mixed up in the plot somewhere.

In the end, she decided to drive down to Bond Street just to get out of the house. Lady Margaret, who had promised Fordwich to keep an eye on the girl, went with her. They had done no more than alight from the carriage and walk a block before Taffy was spotted across the street, lounging on his malacca cane as he peered in a window display at a collection of snuff boxes. He was with another gentleman whom Madeline did not recognize. The speed with which Madeline flew across the street, without even looking to see if a carriage approached, set her aunt off on a series of clucking admonitions.

“Mr. Barker, I forbid you to buy another snuff box!” Madeline said playfully. “I know you have a round hundred of them. Are you setting up in competition with Lord Petersham?”

“Oh hallo, Lady Madeline, ma’am,” Barker said, turning to speak to the ladies. He made his companion known to them, a Mr. Barker also, a cousin from the country. After a few complaints about the cold weather, the more interesting topic of Mr. Aldred was brought up by Barker. “Daresay you was pretty surprised to hear of Henry’s marriage,” were the first words spoken on this subject.

“Marriage!” she exclaimed, in accents that revealed all her astonishment.

“Why you cannot mean he didn’t tell you! Dropped around to see me last evening. All set. He goes off to Manchester today. Merry as a grig. Well, he has been fond of Agnes forever, of course. Her old uncle Leadbeater gave him little hope, but the girl went into a steep decline, forcing her uncle to condone the match. Old Leadbeater is happy to have rescued him from the Tories into the bargain. It will be one more vote for the brewers. Agnes owns a brewery you must know. Rich as Devon cream. A good match for your cousin. You must not fret he is throwing himself away. Henry spoke of getting a special license. I was invited up to the do, but don’t like to make the trip in the dead of winter. I’ll pay my respects to the bride when they get back to London.”

“When is that likely to be?” she asked, assuming a pose of polite curiosity.

“Not immediately. They’re having the treacle moon in Scotland, to visit the girl’s maternal relatives. Deuced bad time for travel. Don’t know why they didn’t wait till spring, but I expect Agnes would not be put off any longer. Afraid she’d lose him.”

“To the Old Lady of St. James’s Square,” the cousin said with a laugh. “Some elderly female took a sharp interest in Aldred, was forcing her attentions on him. I think it was as much to escape her clutches as anything that Henry rushed the thing forward,” the cousin said, all unaware that he was saying anything amiss.

It came with the force of a sharp blow to the heart. Madeline felt physically ill with mortification. Henry had been laughing about her to his friends, making fun of her behind her back, intimating that she was forcing her attentions on him. The awful chagrin on Taffy’s face, the open-mouthed horror, told the story too well. He stared helplessly from his cousin to Madeline to Lady Margaret, trying to think of something innocent to say, to cover the devastating truth just uttered.

“Heh heh, a little joke you know,” Taffy said, rifling his mind for any single aging female on St. James’s Street that he might pretend the reference was to. “Didn’t mean
you,
Lady Madeline,” was his best effort at mitigating the insult.

“It must be me he referred to,” Lady Margaret said with an ironic smile, while the cousin looked totally puzzled, unable to imagine what the dashing young female he spoke to could have to do with Aldred’s “managing old female.”

To cover the gaffe, Taffy rushed into other matters. “You will not be best pleased at his reverting to his old Whig stand, but the Aldreds have been of that stripe forever, you must know. His papa cut up something dreadful.”

“To tell the truth, Mr. Aldred never pleased us overly much,” Lady Margaret said, in her grande dame manner. “Shall we be running along, Madeline? The wind is so chilly here on the street. Good day Mr. Barker; and Mr. Barker,” she said, nodding to the two cousins in turn, before getting a firm grip on her niece’s elbow to pilot her into the shop that purveyed snuff boxes.

“You dough-head!”
Taffy was heard to castigate his companion.

“But surely
she
can’t be the Old Lady...” The damning voice petered out to silence as the door closed.

“I’ll
kill
him!” Madeline said between clenched teeth as she looked out at their rapidly departing forms, but of course it was Henry she meant.

“It would be a benefit to the world if someone would. Stay here. I’ll see if the store has a boy we can send for our carriage. You’ll want to go home to lick your wounds in private.”

Madeline sat like a stone statue, silent, staring, during the drive home. Though she looked as if she might have frozen in the chilly winds, she was in fact a very active volcano inside. She was not high-minded enough that vengeance formed no part of her plans. She would dearly have loved to avenge herself on Henry Aldred, but her most wiley schemes were incapable of fulfillment. He was not here; would not be here for some time. He had jilted her; told the world he was doing it, then darted off and left her to face the taunting laughter. She wanted to crawl into a hole and hide for a decade.

“So what do you mean to do about it?” her aunt asked, when they had reached the comfort of their own saloon.

“What
can
I do? The coward has removed himself from my wrath. Till he comes to town with his bride, I can do nothing. And it is not her I wish to embarrass in any way. She’ll have hell enough in her life, married to that scoundrel. There’s nothing I can do but smile and pretend to like it.”

“That’s the spirit!” Lady Margaret said, relieved at this good sense. Indeed she was hard pressed to conceal her glee at the whole development. Any course that saw Madeline free of the young man was pleasing to her, and if a little embarrassment was thrown in—well, it wouldn’t do her any harm to have her crest lowered an inch. “Just go about your business as before, and pretend you don’t care two straws.”