Twenty-four

The next morning, Elisabeth went into the library at ten and tried to settle down to her accounts, but repeatedly she found herself daydreaming instead, and finally she gave it up.

At half past, she heard a horse outside and then a ring at the front door. Smiling, she rose and went to the door of the library. He’s early, she thought. But when she looked into the hall, she didn’t see Derek Wincannon. Ames was talking to Mr. Jarrett.

As the butler said he would see whether she was in, she started to shrink back into the study, but Jarrett noticed her when she moved and came forward eagerly.

“Miss Elham,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m fortunate to find you in. I have ridden down from London expressly to see you.”

Feeling trapped, Elisabeth sought to put him off. “Indeed. I fear I have an appointment in a very few minutes. If you had informed me of your visit…”

“I must speak to you,” interrupted Jarrett. “Please.”

His tone was imperative, and he more or less ushered Elisabeth back into the library as he spoke.

Reluctantly, she seated herself behind the desk once more and gestured toward a chair opposite. “I hope you’ll be quick,” she told him rather coolly. She indicated the papers before her.

“You haven’t been eager to see me of late,” responded Jarrett. “Indeed, quite the opposite. I hope I have done nothing to offend you?”

Elisabeth raised her eyebrows. “No, how should you? As you know, in London I was taken up with my cousin’s wedding. I had no time for anything else.”

He bowed his head slightly. “Of course. Nonetheless, it was a hardship, getting no sight of you for weeks.”

Elisabeth smiled slightly. “Hardly weeks, Mr. Jarrett.”

He returned her smile and made a deprecating gesture. “I suppose I exaggerate. You must know that it has become vital to me that I see you often. And not simply during morning calls.”

Elisabeth did not care for the direction the conversation was taking. She put on what she hoped was a discouraging expression and said, “Indeed?”

“Yes. In fact, I have fallen deeply in love with you, Elisabeth. I want more than anything in the world to make you my wife.” His eyes held hers.

The girl was only a little startled. She’d seen something of the sort coming. “You do me a great honor, Mr. Jarrett. I am fully sensible of it. But I fear I must refuse.”

Jarrett’s eyes narrowed. “Are you engaged to someone else?” he asked.

Elisabeth flushed a little as she shook her head. “But that has nothing to do with it. My feelings are such that…”

“That you do not love me,” finished the man. “No need to wrap it in clean linen. It’s plain enough.” He paused, seeming to search for words. “You might learn to do so, you know. Marriage is not all romance and cooing. I would be a good husband to you.”

Elisabeth rose. “We seem to have very different ideas about marriage, Mr. Jarrett. I think we need say no more.”

He stood up also, but showed no signs of disappointment or of leaving. He simply frowned intently, shifting his grip on his hat. “My ideas are not unalterable,” he said finally. “And I have told you that I love you. I’m willing to change; could you not try to also?”

Elisabeth was growing angry. She had answered him honestly, but he refused to heed her. “I think not,” she replied coldly. “And now if you will excuse me.”

Jarrett’s frown deepened, and he made an impatient gesture. “You simply dismiss me, is that it? Do you think you can send me on my way like an importunate tradesman?”

“Not at all. But our discussion is concluded, I think.”

“Do you indeed?” Jarrett’s eyes hardened, and a queer expression played about his mouth. “You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

Elisabeth didn’t deign to reply to this but started toward the door. Jarrett suddenly stepped in front of her and grasped her arm tightly. “It’s Wincannon, isn’t it? I thought as much. So you’ve set your heart on a title just like all the greedy little debs.”

Trying to pull her arm free, Elisabeth stepped back. “How dare you?”

“Dare?” He laughed harshly. “You would be surprised what I would dare, depending on the stakes.”

The girl managed to get free; her eyes flashed indignantly. “Such as my fortune?” she snapped.

The look Jarrett directed at her made her quail for a moment, then bland amusement descended over his features. He shrugged. “I never thought you stupid. I admit that your money means something to me. To whom would it not? You cannot blame me for prudence.”

“I can and do.” Elisabeth managed to get to the library door and held it open. “I must ask you not to call upon me again, sir,” she said icily and gestured toward the hall.

Jarrett hesitated a moment; he seemed to be struggling with himself. A series of emotions showed in his face—rage, chagrin, hope. He made as if to speak, changed his mind, then bowed slightly and strode out of the room. Elisabeth saw that he was leaving before she shut the door. As she did so, she noticed Jane Taunton descending the stairs from the drawing room with her sketching equipment. I hope she doesn’t meet Jarrett, she thought to herself. What an unpleasant man!

* * *

She paced about the library for some minutes, trying to regain control of herself. She’d just taken a deep breath and sat down again, feeling more composed, when Ames knocked and entered the library. “The Duchess of Sherbourne has just arrived, Miss Elisabeth.” Ames’s tone indicated that he considered these unannounced arrivals highly unsatisfactory.

“The duchess?” echoed Elisabeth. “But what can she be doing here? She was to go to Brighton.”

“I’m sure I couldn’t say, miss,” answered Ames.

Elisabeth rose and started out of the room. “Where is she? Of course I’ll see her. You shouldn’t have kept her waiting.”

“She refused to leave her traveling carriage,” responded Ames in freezing accents.

Elisabeth hurried out and stepped up to the window of the duchess’s carriage. She was indeed still inside. “Good morning, ma’am,” said Elisabeth. “This is a most pleasant surprise. Won’t you come in?”

The duchess sat up straighter and shook her head decisively. “No. I’ve stopped for a moment only on my way north. I wish to talk to you before my courage fails me.”

The girl frowned. “You aren’t going to Brighton after all, then?”

The duchess made an impatient gesture. “No, of course I’m not going to Brighton. Do get into the carriage, Elisabeth, so that we may talk.”

Surprised and puzzled, Elisabeth moved toward the open coach door. “If you like,” she answered, “but would we not be more comfortable in the house?”

“I’m in a hurry. And I don’t wish to be overheard.”

Elisabeth saw now that some of the older woman’s abruptness was the result of a nervousness wholly uncharacteristic of her. “Of course,” she said soothingly. “But we might go into the garden, you know, away from the house, instead of sitting cramped in the carriage.”

The duchess hesitated. “That would do, I suppose,” she replied finally. “Yes, perhaps that’s better.” She moved quickly to step down.

“Good,” said Elisabeth. “If you’d care to walk on a moment, I’ll speak to Ames and then join you in the garden.”

Frowning in puzzlement, Elisabeth turned back to the house. She found Ames in the hall. “I’m expecting Mr. Wincannon to call. Will you tell him please what has happened, and give him my apologies? Tell him that I’ll try to get free as soon as possible.”

“Yes, miss,” replied the butler.

After a moment’s searching, she found the duchess seated on a rustic bench next to a small clump of yew. She quickly sat down beside her. “There,” she said, “we can talk privately here.”

The duchess was looking at her gloves, which she held twisted together in her hands, but she raised her eyes when Elisabeth spoke. “I’ll tell you frankly that this is rather difficult for me,” she began. “I’m not in the habit of explaining myself to anyone, much less a young woman who might be my daughter. However, I believe it is only fair that someone in Belinda’s family know the story, and I refuse to speak of it to anyone but you. I’ve decided not to tell my son.”

“I…I’m very flattered,” said Elisabeth.

“Well, you needn’t be. I don’t wish to tell you, either.” The duchess smiled thinly. “But you’re a sensible girl, and I do feel that I can trust you.”

Not knowing how to reply, Elisabeth said, “Thank you.”

The duchess looked at her gloves again, stared off across the flower bed opposite, then sat back on the bench and sighed. “Very well. There’s no good way to begin. I must simply tell it.

“I was very young and silly when I first went to London. Your cousin Lavinia could tell you, if she would, how silly. I had a head full of romantic notions, combined with a great deal of stubbornness and arrogance. My family was wealthy, and I was very much indulged as a child. I expected to always be given whatever I wanted, and I brooked no interference from anyone.” She looked over at Elisabeth. “I say this not to place the blame on anyone else or even excuse myself, but only so that you will better understand the situation.”

Elisabeth nodded; these revelations coming from a woman so much older than herself effectively silenced her.

“Well, and so I was wild and imprudent,” the duchess went on. “It was a time of some turmoil, the uprising in France and so on, and I behaved as I should not. I refused to listen to anyone’s advice.

“What it comes down to is the usual tale. I met a young man and fell in love.” The duchess sighed. “As you may have guessed, it was Mr. Aldgate. Lucius was in the army, a very dashing and completely penniless young soldier. I was bouleversé, as we used to say then.” A faint smile lit the duchess’s face. “Everyone spoke against it, of course, including Lucius himself, but I was too headstrong to listen. And he loved me; I controlled him by that.” She looked across at Elisabeth. “We eloped, at my insistence. I was utterly imprudent. But I’m not entirely ashamed of that. I loved him very much.” She put a hand to her head for a moment. “What I am bitterly ashamed of is what followed.” She rubbed her hand across her forehead several times. “In a space of a very few days, I found I couldn’t live in genteel penury. Lucius had no money at all, and the little I’d been able to bring was soon gone. We stayed in mean inns going north to Gretna Green and were forced to give up our post chaise for the stage. I hated it!” This was spoken intensely, and the duchess hit her knee with a doubled fist. “I despise myself still, but I could not endure it. I left Lucius before we reached the border and fled back to my parents. I accepted the duke, who had been on the point of offering for me, and married him immediately. Lucius never reproached me or indeed communicated with me again. He attended my wedding clad in a magnificent suit of purple and silver. I knew it must have cost everything he had. But I never even spoke to him; I did nothing.”

“Dear ma’am, you needn’t tell me this,” Elisabeth interrupted. “But please believe that I understand what you must have felt.”

The older woman took a deep breath and appeared to recover herself. “I doubt it,” she said in her usual dry tones. “In any case, this is only the preface of what I wish to tell you. John is Lucius’s son.”

In her surprise, Elisabeth gasped.

“Yes,” the other went on. “You are a sensible young woman, as I observed, and not missish. I think I need say no more.”

Wide-eyed, Elisabeth shook her head.

“I never told anyone, naturally. Any remorse or guilt was mine to bear. But this is why I was so affected when you mentioned Lucius to me. The past I had thought forever buried seemed to come to life again. I was afraid.”

She seemed to wait for an answer, but Elisabeth could summon no words.

“But when I had talked with Lucius,” she went on, “I saw that it was all right. He was the same noble character. He wished to do nothing that would embarrass me, but he said he could not resist seeing me again after all these years.” A faint pink flush tinged the duchess’s cheeks. “I told him the truth. It seemed to me a kind of penitence to put my secret in his hands; he will tell no one else.” She looked into Elisabeth’s eyes. “You will say I should have told you before the wedding, and you are right, but my nerve failed me, I admit. John is still my son, and I wished him to be happy. I did not dare.”

She stopped, and Elisabeth struggled for the proper words.

“Are you angry?” asked the duchess finally.

“No, no, I’m not at all angry,” replied the girl quickly. “I’m overcome with surprise, I think.”

The older woman laughed a bit sourly. “Natural enough, I suppose. But is there anything you would wish done?”

“Done?” echoed Elisabeth rather stupidly.

“Indeed, that is what Lucius and I concluded. There is nothing to be done. John is my only child. He cuts no one out, save some very distant cousins who never thought to inherit the title. Things must remain as they are.”

“I…of course,” faltered Elisabeth, “it is hardly my affair. I cannot quite see, in fact, why you have told me.”

“I’m not sure I know,” answered the duchess meditatively, “except that I wished to be done with deceit, to start fresh, you see. But I couldn’t face Belinda with this story, as I ought.” She shrugged and rose. “I must go; I’m on my way north to meet Lucius. We are to be married on Thursday.”

Elisabeth got quickly to her feet. “Indeed? That’s wonderful.”

“If a trifle late?” asked the duchess drily. “Frankly, I’ve ceased to care what anyone thinks, even myself.” Her tone softened. “And I mean to do everything to make him happy now.” She pulled on her gloves decisively. “There, now I’ve told you everything, and I can go.” She began walking down the path before Elisabeth could reply.

The girl hurried after her, neither of them noticing a movement in the bushes behind the bench as they disappeared.

She watched the chaise drive off, then returned to the house, her mind whirling. Ames stopped her for a moment to say that Mr. Wincannon had waited for half an hour before going away again, promising to call the following day. Elisabeth was too occupied to do more than murmur an acknowledgment of this news as she entered the library again. She could not even care about having missed Derek at this moment.