The Notorious Lord Havergal (16 page)

The alfresco party was to commence at two-thirty in Norton’s park, where a tent and serving table had been set up, with chairs ranged outside under the shelter of spreading elms. Musicians were hired, and for the unmusical a croquet field was available. Lettie was determined not to arrive gauchely early, but at two-fifteen she succumbed to Violet’s entreaties and called the carriage. Arriving at two-forty, they found the whole polite village already there.

“So charming, quite a fête champêtre!” Violet exclaimed, smiling at the pretty bonnets and gowns and parasols, and the riot of brilliant blue tent brought for the occasion all the way from Canterbury. For no apparent reason a red and white awning also shaded the front door of the house.

As Lettie’s practiced eye scanned the crowd for Havergal, she could find no unusual cluster of ladies, which usually served to locate him. Glancing at the awning, she saw him just issuing from it at a quick pace, adjusting his cravat as he came. No doubt Miss Millie’s lunch had run late. He spotted her carriage and turned his footsteps toward it.

He politely aided the ladies’ descent and unthinkingly tucked Lettie’s fingers under his arm as they walked forward to join the party.

“I see Ned keeps you running, Havergal,” Violet said. “Late for your own party.”

“I feel as if I’ve fallen into the hands of a friendly sultan. I was never so regally entertained in my life. Most flattering,” he said with one of his infamous smiles.

“Your harem awaits,” Lettie said, as a group of ladies spotted him and came pelting forward, yelping like hounds on the scent of a fox.

His quick glance was apologetic and something more. Was it regret that darkened his gaze as he released her arm to make his bows?

“I’ve saved you a seat in the front row,” Miss Pincombe told him, glancing to the chairs ranged in front of the raised stage.

“Was there not some talk of croquet?” he asked. “Such a fine day, it seems a shame to waste it sitting still for an hour.”

Miss Palin elbowed her competitor aside and said, “We are just making up a team, Lord Havergal. You can partner me,” and carried him off.

The concert was noticeably short of young female auditors. They were all, except Miss Beddoes and Miss Pincombe, out at the croquet field, disparaging Miss Palin’s straw bonnet, gown, and handling of the mallet. Lettie began to see that a young gentleman’s success might very well go to his head if he was similarly courted in London.

The general courting continued throughout the extravagant outdoor meal that followed the concert and croquet. It was beginning to seem that Lettie was not going to get her moment’s privacy to apologize that day. When Miss Millie begged her to go into the house and just take a glance at the table for the ball, now only two days hence, Lettie was glad to escape the noise, sun, and sight of all the girls making cakes of themselves over Havergal.

They went to the dining room, where a shoeless footman was capering about on the spacious table that was spread with white linen. “Willie says the countess he last worked for always had him smooth the cloth this way,” Miss Millie explained. “As we are dining out tonight and have no dinner parties planned till Saturday, we can use the breakfast parlor till then. I am getting a start on the dinner table for the ball today, for I shall be so busy getting ready for the public day tomorrow and then having it the day after, that there is no saying when it would get done if I left it. Now about that lobster casserole you gave me the receipt for, Lettie, tell me which plates to lay on for it. The red and gold rimmed ones seem the wrong size. I would not want things to look
odd
."

They discussed the table for ten minutes, at which time Miss Millie asked her friend’s advice on the disposal of plants in the ballroom. “Just come along and see what I have done. Palms in all corners, and half a dozen lemon and orange trees from the orangery ranged along the side of the wall. I think the gardener must wait till tomorrow to arrange the cut blooms. They would never go two days without wilting, but I shall risk putting them out Friday, for he will have his hands full Saturday at the public day. Norton put him in charge of the races.”

“Where will you put the orchestra?” Lettie asked.

“There, at the far end, on that platform that is out in the park now,” Miss Millie explained. “Ned plans to keep the awning up for the ball, but he will send back the tent tomorrow. The awning might come in handy if there is rain. The carriages could pull up right alongside it, and the ladies alight in the dryness. You don’t think it odd?” she inquired. Lettie’s thoughtless use of that adjective had stuck in Miss Millie’s brain and was often referred to.

“Not in the least odd. That’s a good idea, Miss Millie. Where will the flowers go?” Lettie inquired, looking all around. “The room looks huge without chairs, but when you’ve brought the chairs in from outside and ranged them around the room, there won’t be much space for large vases of flowers.”

“We must have flowers!”

“How about two large vases on pedestals on either side of the musicians’ platforms?” Lettie suggested.

“What kind of pedestals?” Miss Millie asked anxiously.

“That set in Ned’s study that hold the busts of Milton and Shakespeare would do nicely.”

“Oh, you mean the statue stands. Yes indeed, an excellent idea. You know the answer to everything, Miss Lettie. I’ll send for them at once to judge the effect.”

She went into the hallway to summon a footman, and Lettie remained behind, looking around. Her imagination peopled the room with guests, music swirling through the air, and Havergal bending over her hand, asking her for a waltz. She drew a deep, luxurious sigh and turned to see Havergal gazing at her. The room was empty again, stretching all around in awful silence, broken only by her unsteady breaths and the echo of her heartbeat in her ears.

He came forward, smiling. “So this is where you disappeared to.”

“Oh,” she exclaimed, flustered, “were you looking for me?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

“For dashing off the moment you arrived.”

“Ah, the crush of your harem,” she said lightly.

“A new gent in town usually enjoys a week’s favoritism, before the ladies realize he’s just like all the other men,” he said, shucking off his success.

“Your time is about up then.”

“I have been hanging on unconscionably long, but Norton really is a mine of knowledge and so excessively hospitable that I am made to feel not only at home, but like a prodigal son.”

“I’m sure he enjoys having you, but don’t expect a fatted calf. It will be a suckling pig.”

“I don’t know how I shall ever repay him. Of course he will come to stay with Papa and me for a while when we begin setting up the operation and stocking our pens, but Papa leads a relatively retired life. This lavish way of entertaining would be too much for him.”

“Blame it on Norton’s enthusiasm,” she said.

“It is not a question of blame! I hope you don’t think I am complaining. Quite the contrary. Everyone has entertained me so generously—” He came to a conscious stop as it was borne in on them both simultaneously that hospitality had been withheld in one household. “Not that I mean—” Oh, Lord, that was only making it worse.

“I have been hoping for a moment to speak to you about that, Havergal,” she said, trying for an air of ease she was far from enjoying. “I would like you to feel free to call at Laurel Hall anytime you are in the vicinity.”

He looked at her uncertainly. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. Let us set an actual time, for a ‘drop-in-any-time’ invitation is no invitation at all. Come for tea tomorrow, you and the Nortons. Their servants will be busy preparing for the public day, and Miss Millie will be happy to dispense with preparing tea.”

“Thank you, Miss Lettie. I shall be delighted. Of course I must check with my hostess first.”

“Of course.”

“Well, I am glad that is settled,” he said with a happy smile. She could only conclude he was speaking of the invitation, as the acceptance was still in abeyance.

“I was a little harsh that night—” she said in some confusion.

“Indeed, you were not! You did exactly as you ought. It was unconscionable of me to—well, we both know what I did. No need to dredge up all that. I am quite a reformed character now, I promise you,”

“I had a note from Crymont before he left. He generously took all the blame.”

“All of it is doing it a bit brown. I should have made him send the girls back the minute I learned he had brought them. I should have written my apologies as well. Would you have read a note if I’d sent it?” he asked, and studied her face while she answered.

“Probably not. I daresay I would have fed it to the flames. I was out of reason cross with you and the duke.” His perfectly natural way of speaking told Lettie that it was Crymont who had brought the girls, and without Havergal’s knowledge. “He sounds like quite a rakehell,” she said, shaking her head.

“So he is, and so was I, but I have changed my circle of friends and my behavior.”

“That must be difficult.”

“The most difficult thing was convincing Crymont I meant it. I tried to get him to give up that life of dissipation, but when he refused, I could do nothing. I have no authority over him. Ned tells me he is still racing pigs, and my own more intimate knowledge tells me he is doing a deal worse than that. Pity.”

Lettie just smiled her approval, for she could suddenly think of no words to say. Some clogging of her throat would have made speech difficult in any case.

Seeing her mood, Havergal reached for her hand and began to lead her toward the doorway. Before they had gone two steps, he realized privacy was more likely in the ballroom and began touring it instead. “I think you know what has caused me to change the direction of my life?” he asked, peering down at her.

His glittering eyes suggested a very personal reason, one having to do with herself. Naturally, she feigned ignorance of his meaning. She said, “Was it the crush of debts, Havergal?”

“No, it was the lecture those debts precipitated in a certain quarter.”

“It was not your trying to cadge money from the trust that precipitated my lecture, sir!” she reminded him, but playfully.

“Indirectly it was. I would not have been at Laurel Hall otherwise. If I had not needed the money so desperately, I would not have made such a barnacle of myself, when you obviously wished me at Jericho! The lack of warmth in that invitation to dinner!”

“It was wash day. We were planning to dine on cold ham and bread pudding. Not a meal to ask a man to, as Doctor Johnson would say,”

“Strangely I have no recollection at all of what we actually ate,” he said, frowning at this oddity.

“Not even the overdone potatoes that were discussed to death?” she laughed. It seemed incredible that that evening could now elicit amusement.

“Ah, the potatoes. And Miss Beddoes prohibiting us from further discussion of them, but not suggesting any alternative subject! I was beginning to feel we were at a cloistered monastery where speaking was not permitted. And then when Crymont landed in and later lured me to the inn—” He shook his head ruefully. “I decided that scrambling out of windows and lying to my hostess was conduct unworthy of a Cauleigh. I have been wanting to explain it to you for a long time. Now I find that the explanation shows me in a wretched light as well, for the second evening I knew the girls were there.”

“You mean you paid
two
visits to the inn!” she exclaimed.

“The first evening I didn’t know the girls were there. I thought it was only for dinner and wine.
Now
your dinner is coming back to me!” he laughed. “At least I remember it was inadequate, for I was looking forward with pleasure to that baron of beef Crymont mentioned. As soon as I learned of the women, I left. I didn’t even see them that night.”

“Was it curiosity that drew you back the second evening, then?”

“I cannot claim that excuse. We met them in the village, if you recall. The less said of that contretemps, the better. And I, like a ninnyhammer, pulled the reins instead of bolting past. No, it was threats that drew me back the second evening. Cherry Devereau has the devil’s own temper. Crymont convinced me she would create havoc if I didn’t go. So she would, too,” he said with no air of rancor. “But at least I did not give your servants the wine. Crymont left it in the stable. On his behalf I should explain that he never thought it would all be consumed in one night.”

“It is just as well you broke off with Crymont” is all she said. Havergal’s past was obviously scarlet, but a scarlet past will often cast a rosy glow on those who have had the fortitude to abandon it. She sensed an air of glamour, almost of the hero, about Havergal. His war had been not with the French or even a neighbor, but with his own character, and he had triumphed. He had left behind that life of dissolution, and he imagined that she had something to do with his victory.

“There is one thing that surprised me, Miss Lettie,” he said with a quizzing smile. “Why did you agree to continue administering my trust? I made sure I had lost all contact with you when Papa told me of your decision to abandon it,”

“Your father asked me to reconsider. He called at Laurel Hall to do so. I did it to please him, really.” She listened with curiosity to hear what he had to say of that visit.

“Now there is a facer for me. I had some hope that you had learned of my new and improved character. The journals have quite given up on me. I haven’t been done since I sold my hunters to pay off that thousand pounds. I was shown with tears in my eyes on that occasion, crying while Alvanley led Thor and Zeus away. I did feel close to tears, too.”

She was surprised that he paid so little heed to hearing that his father had called on her. Havergal assumed his papa had been in the neighborhood and paid a courtesy call, mentioning the trust in passing.

A commotion at the doorway proved to be Miss Millie, leading two stout footmen, each carrying a pedestal. The private moment was over, but Lettie took advantage of the interruption to ask Millie to bring Havergal to Laurel Hall for tea the next afternoon. Miss Millie said she must check with Ned, and meanwhile would Lettie and Havergal just advise her on the disposition of the pedestals. As this job was going forth, Mr. Norton joined them.