Patricia Wynn (18 page)

Lord Harleston nodded, only slightly worried that his own man would have doubts about her ladyship’s sanity. But he would do his best to cast a favourable light on her peculiar occupations. Susan’s other protests, he intended to ignore.

“Then I had better be off,” he said. For an instant, Susan’s face betrayed how sadly this affected her, but she quickly recovered enough to agree. Then, after standing and moving rapidly to the door, she opened it and looked up and down the hall to see if anyone was about. The hall was clear.

Holding the door open for him as if it were a shield between them, she whispered, “It is safe for you to go now, Lord Harleston.”

He had followed her to the door and was looking at her strangely, but he did not remark on her coolness. After glancing once into the hall for his own satisfaction, he turned back, hoping perhaps for a more tender farewell. But Susan’s extended hand was all that was offered.

He took it and held it firmly but gently until the warmth from his own removed its chill, and then he kissed it. He could almost feel the current which ran up her arm at the touch of his lips. Their eyes met, and he could not doubt his effect upon her.

“Farewell, Mrs. Faringdon,” he said in a whisper. “I shall return.”

Susan grasped his hand involuntarily. “Oh, please, you mustn’t,” she said. “You must not do anything more to risk exposure.’’

Buoyed by her show of concern, he grinned, without a fear in the world. “Just have a care to yourself and I shall be perfectly well,” he promised.

Susan wanted desperately to argue further, but she was aware of the danger of keeping him standing in the corridor. She just had time to repeat her protest once more. Reluctantly then, she released him, and after another quick look to see if the way was clear, he departed for the stables.

Chapter Eleven

The next day, Susan made it known that she had sent Tom on to prepare her servants for her arrival. But, she said, she hoped to keep her ladyship company so long as there were two gentlemen to entertain. This remark made Mr. Petworthy regard her as if the possibility of her becoming an ally were stronger than he had thought.

Then, Susan learned something else that morning which made her uneasy. It appeared that Vigor was gone. The servants were commenting upon his absence as if it were a strange occurrence indeed, but Lady Mewhinny did not remark upon it. Susan wondered if she were even aware of his being gone, although certainly her ladyship seemed aware of most things that went on in her household. She also feared that the two gentlemen, suspecting the strong devotion of the faithful servant, might have disposed of him somehow before closing in on his mistress.

Mr. Sodporth’s behaviour had undergone a serious alteration. He still regarded his food with the same attachment and savoured the pleasure of his port. But he had begun to wander about the house, turning up in the most disconcerting manner when least expected, and carrying about with him a small notebook. When found, he always looked up with that conspiratorial grin that Susan had learned to mistrust, but he would soon return to whatever notes he was making in his book.

That evening Vigor returned in a hired carriage, bringing with him another visitor.

“My dear Susan,” Lady Mewhinny said before dinner. “You must allow me to present to you an old friend, Mr. Geoffrey Phillips.”

The gentleman bowed as Susan extended her hand. Mr. Phillips was a young man by her ladyship’s standards. He was perhaps sixty, with short grey hair worn in a serious cut. His clothes were well-fitting and without the least pretension to extravagance in fashion. His manner was formal, but in a pleasing way, and Susan took to him upon sight. The other two gentlemen, however, eyed him with misgiving when he explained to the company at large that he was a solicitor from London.

“So kind of you to favour us with your company at this time of year,” Lady Mewhinny said, when they had all been seated. “Especially when there is so much to amuse one in London.”

Mr. Phillips looked at her as if she had just paid him the greatest compliment. “My dear lady,” he said. “You persist in thinking me the merest boy, when I assure you I have long held such revelry in abhorrence. You will have your guests thinking me the gayest of fellows.”

She laughed and rapped his knuckles with her fan as if she knew better than to believe him. “Why, Mr. Phillips,” she said, “if I have not grown too old to appreciate such customs, I am certain you have not.”

His blush made it clear that he was highly gratified by her flattering exageration of his character.

Susan was charmed by this little exchange, but Mr. Petworthy took the opportunity to twist it to his advantage. “You must forgive my aunt, Mr. Phillips,” he said. “There are times when I do not think she realizes the advancement of her years. Of course,” he added, when seeing the sudden frown on the face of his listener, “we must all envy her the tirelessness—one could almost say the
abnormal
level of her energy.”

Mr. Phillips accepted this compliment to his hostess at its face value. “Tireless I believe she is, especially in the service of those creatures she styles her pensioners.”

Mr. Petworthy laughed indulgently and was joined by the doctor. “So you are familiar with my aunt’s little eccentricity,” he said, bobbing his head and smiling. “Then you will perhaps not be surprised to learn that she devotes herself entirely to their care. It is a unique passion, one might almost say a
mania
with her.”

Her ladyship’s nephew, Susan reflected, might almost say
anything
if it would further the cause of his plot against his aunt. The matter was dropped. But as they dined, Mr. Phillips let fall a piece of news which interested all at the table.

“I have lately,” he informed them, “been appointed justice of the peace in the next county.”

Mr. Petworthy’s head jerked up and he looked at his friend the doctor in alarm. His expression was not lost upon Susan, who rightly guessed that he feared his game was up. She blessed Providence, which had led Mr. Phillips to choose this time to make a visit, and her spirits were considerably lightened. Even Mr. Phillips’s polite questions to herself did not impinge upon her sense of relief.

But after the ladies retired to the drawing room to take their tea, Susan experienced an increase of alarm. Lady Mewhinny chose that moment to sound Susan out as to her opinion on an expansion of the Society’s purpose. She proposed enlarging the scope of its protection to extend to all wild beasts brought into England. The wild beast booth at the fair was what had given her the idea, she explained, for there she had seen offered for sale both a camel and a hyena.

“And what anyone could possibly want with a hyena in the garden and to what good purpose, I cannot imagine,” she said indignantly. “A camel has its uses, to be sure, but I find it hard to believe that any gentleman would prefer a camel to a horse on the downs or in town. Its paces could not be superior. I think something must be done to rescue beasts who are taken as mere curiosities and then tired of. Do you not agree, Susan?”

Susan was afraid to give an answer for fear of encouraging her ladyship to speak of the matter again in front of the gentlemen. But neither could she disappoint her friend.

“But, Kitty,” she said finally, “’Ow would such a s’ing be accomplished? Surely you could not keep zem all ’ere?”

Lady Mewhinny’s delighted laughter filled the room. “My dear Susan, how absurd! Of course, I would not bring them here. Can you imagine a herd of camels in the park? They would be certain to get into the vegetable garden and upset the cook! No. I intend sending them back where they came from!”

Susan’s mind whirled at the thought of the vast sum that would be required to accomplish this, but she had no chance to reply before the ladies were joined by Mr. Phillips.

“I have decided to precede the other gentlemen,” he explained, “for I have little taste for port. A cup of tea would suit me nicely, yes. Thank you, Mrs. Faringdon.”

Susan poured him a cup from the tray and then excused herself, saying she must run up to her room for a warmer shawl. In reality, she meant to use the chance to eavesdrop on the other two gentlemen. Their plans would now require a change, and she hoped to find out what this would be.

She found the dining room door to the hall ajar and no footman there to observe her queer behaviour. After approaching the door on tiptoe, she placed her ear near to the opening and heard the conversation that followed.

Mr. Sodporth was entreating his friend. “Might not this Phillips fellow agree to supply the second signature, my dear Petworthy? If he is a justice of the peace, he must certainly be called on to do these things. And newly appointed as he is, his experience will be slight.”

Mr. Petworthy seemed much struck by the suggestion. “It is possible,” he said after a long pause. “Yes! Sodporth, you are a genius! Perhaps all is not lost, as I had feared. But we must proceed cautiously! He is a friend of hers, after all. And the suggestion must not come from me.” Susan could imagine him vigorously shaking his head. “By no means.
You
must supply him with both the idea and the proof. As a medical man, your superior knowledge of such matters must be relied upon. Yes, that’s it. You must endeavour to convince him that separating her from her fortune and that damned society of hers would be the very best thing for her. And he must not be made to fear she would be placed in a lunatic asylum. She could be just as closely guarded here. And I
do
feel,” he added, as though caught suddenly by a scruple, “that she might be kept comfortably here. There is the whole wing now occupied by the monkeys.” He ended with a snicker.

Susan was horrified anew. Mr. Petworthy, it seemed, was not to be deterred. The very presence of Mr. Phillips, which she had hoped would be his undoing, was going to be a means of hastening his evil purpose. The sounds of chairs scraping the floor awoke her to her own danger, and she fled noiselessly up the staircase in her light slippers.

Upstairs in her room, she paused to catch her breath and reflect. If only Tom were here, she thought. But she must not let herself think of him again, for she was resolved not to involve him further. He had said he would return, and she believed he meant it. Part of her desperately wished for him to come back, to know that he loved her enough to put himself at risk. If he did not, she would suffer the disappointment of knowing he had cared for her no more than had her father. The possibility of a similarity between the two men was almost more than Susan could bear.

But this was entirely different, she reminded herself. If Lord Harleston were to come back, he would be in peril of being discovered. The thought filled her with fear. If he returned, she would have to try to persuade him to keep out of Lady Mewhinny’s troubled affairs. But there would be nothing she could do to stop him. He would make his own decision, and would not be directed by her. Until she knew, however, she must deal with the matter of Mr. Petworthy’s latest change of plans. She must be firm and deal with this new development on her own.

A little more thought and Susan knew what she must do. She must engage Mr. Phillips’s attention as much as possible while he was there. Lady Mewhinny, she supposed, would be occupied as usual with her charges and could not be depended upon to keep him company. She herself must be the one to keep the gentlemen apart.

Hastily then, she grabbed the woollen shawl which had been her pretext for leaving the room and hurried down to the drawing room to join the others. And it was fortunate she did, she soon saw, for Lady Mewhinny had most unwisely left the gentlemen to themselves. Mr. Sodporth was at that moment regaling Mr. Phillips with some of his most extreme cases.

Mr. Petworthy, on the other hand, was most uncharacteristically engaged in reading a book, or so it appeared. Upon seeing her, however, he closed it and stood to welcome her to the room. Indicating a chair rather closer to himself than to the others he opened with these words, “Ah, Mrs. Faringdon. You have come to join us. We had almost feared you did not mean to return this evening. You will not object, I hope, to an all-male company?”

If he had meant to discourage her with these words, Susan did not take the hint, but felt obliged still to take the chair he offered her, even though it was farther away from Mr. Phillips than she wished. That gentleman smiled as she entered, but gave his attention immediately back to Mr. Sodporth, who continued to display his knowledge and competence.

“You must forgive my friend, Mrs. Faringdon,” Mr. Petworthy said by way of explanation, “but his professional interest is so consuming that he quite naturally prefers to discuss it. I cannot suppose such matters interest you, however, and I flatter myself that you will not object to
my
conversation.”

Susan gave him a look which, she hoped, expressed cold, but polite acquiescence, but she wished he would not always forestall her objections so thoroughly. She was not pleased to be trapped in such close conversation with her adversary, and she kept her replies to his sallies a simple monotone.

“In such cases,” Mr. Sodporth began with a confident air, “complete removal from society is most earnestly advised. Illusions of grandeur, which frequently accompany the disease, might then be avoided. A strict regimen, tartar emetics and, ahem—“ he coughed slightly with an apologetic glance at Susan—“the reestablishment of suppressed evacuations are the recommended course of treatment.”

“Would a course of sea baths be beneficial?” the solicitor asked.

Mr. Sodporth shook his head. “I fear not,” he said. “In those cases in which sea baths or trips to mineral springs are recommended, the purpose is for one thing only—the complete cessation of busyness. That is most essential. I find the reiterated application of leeches to absorb the fluid effused in the brain to be
much
more effective. That, along with certain medications, will effect a cure more certainly than courses of mild exercise.”

“You do not believe in the benefits of exercise to an afflicted mind?”