The Ranleigh Question, page 8
part #2 of Lady Althea Mystery Series
“Far be it from me to tell you your business, brother, but I might wait to make that communication until we have a better idea of what we are dealing with. The paper may be important, or it may not.”
“That was my thought,” Verlyn replied. He pulled out his watch. “I suggest that we make our way back to the house before our collective absence is remarked upon. I shall ride out tomorrow on some pretext and make inquiries related to Cruikshank’s movements. Let me leave now, for the rumors are already rampant about you and Lady Trent. I would hate to add to them the idea that she has ensnared the hearts of us both.” He turned, gave a jaunty wave, and walked back in the direction of the house.
When he was out of earshot, Norwich said, “I’m glad we have a moment alone. I have been desiring speech with you.”
“To what end?” Althea said.
“I’m sure I don’t need to reiterate my position, but this is another matter. I had a message from my sister when we returned to the house that mother is suffering a new illness, congestion of the lungs.”
“Oh dear, I hope that she is not seriously ill? My father always recommended a steam bath in such cases.”
“Reading between the lines, I think she is likely to have exaggerated its severity. However, I have instructed Minerva to write me immediately should she worsen. I didn’t want to mention it in front of George because heaven knows he would be likely to dash off to Bath, filled with regret, and that might not be at all in the nation’s best interest. My mother can be very persuasive and thinks quite highly of her own complaints. She has George convinced that it was his absence that gave our father an apoplexy, which is quite ridiculous, but very much her style. So, my poor brother lives wracked with guilt every time he has to leave the country.”
“How very unfortunate. In my experience, apoplexy may occur at any time and has more to do with a heavy diet and a lack of exercise than apprehension at a son’s travel abroad. But I take from this that you and your sister try to manage your mother’s health without unduly alarming your brother?”
“Yes, so I would appreciate your discretion. I merely wanted to mention it to you because I may be forced to leave suddenly if her illness turns out to be more than a trifling thing.”
“I appreciate the warning, but surely you know that I would not take any attentions to your mother amiss?”
“No, of course not. Anyone who loved her father as you loved yours would understand. It is merely that I had hoped to tell her about our engagement. She despairs of me ever marrying, and this news would certainly bring her back from the portals of death, if she heard it.”
Althea looked at him with an air of innocence. “By all means, tell her what you would like. I think we agreed to tell our close family, did we not?”
Norwich’s eyes flashed. “I would not seek to put my future wife at such a disadvantage. My mother is very strict in her notions of propriety and an engagement on trial will not be at all acceptable. She will think I have gone mad to agree to such a thing.”
“I see. And what will you think?”
“I am beginning to think that you deliberately put me off. Please, for the love of God, tell me that you will give me a straight answer if I have to ask you for it.”
“I suppose I shall, although I never thought my hand would be forced in such a manner. It does take all of the romance out of the thing.”
“Is that why you torment me? For the romance of it?” he said angrily.
Now it was Althea’s turn for a sharp look. “I loathe to give anyone pain, but I think you fail to understand just what it means to me to have finally achieved a position where I may do as I like and go where I please, and where I am free to pursue my own interests without interference. I have lived all my life under the watchful eyes of my father and then my husband. And, although I loved them both, I find my new-found independence quite invigorating. I’m sure that such hesitation seems ridiculous to a man who has always lived as he chooses, but please grant me the luxury of time enough to make a decision that I shall not soon regret. Do not push me too hard. Hic manebimus optime!”
“While your Latin is impeccable, I promise you’ll have no regrets.” Norwich replied, pulling her to him so quickly that she had no time to object. His lips found hers in a ruthless kiss.
I shall lose all my power to resist, Althea thought, as she fell deeper under the spell of his intoxicating persuasion. Her arms found their way around his neck, and she burrowed into his embrace, unable to restrain the flame of desire that sprang up within her. It was dangerous, but so wickedly compelling.
Finally, Althea gathered her wits and tried to pull away. “Sir, I beg of you,” she said. “Release me and I shall give you my answer if you have need of it. I promise.”
His eyes remained unfocused as he studied her, seeming not to hear her words. Then he let go of her and stepped back. “Good,” he said gruffly. “I must return to the house.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left her standing bewildered amongst the rose bushes.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When Althea returned, she met a flustered Miss Dorkins, who told her quite plainly what she thought of mistresses arriving too late to be properly dressed for dinner.
“I have been walking amongst the rose bushes,” Althea replied, with some asperity. “They are the crown jewel of the gardens of Ranleigh.”
“I’m sure that there was very little walking and much more digging around in the bushes looking for insects. You cannot hide your rumpled appearance from me, Lady Trent. I don’t know how I will get those creases out of your dress. It will simply take ages!”
Althea decided that insect investigations were certainly preferable to the real cause of her wrinkles and so closed her mouth diplomatically. Miss Dorkins continued to mutter on about this and that until Althea sat down in her petticoats so that Dorkins could assist her to remove her boots.
“Oh my, look at how they are caked with mud. I shall have to send them down to be cleaned and heaven knows when we shall get them back again. They have no notion of how to manage things in this household. Why, they sent up a pair of boots that weren’t even yours this afternoon, and I have yet to discover who they might belong to because the under housemaid would insist that they belonged to you, although it was clear as a pikestaff that they didn’t – your boots being ever so much smaller.”
“Really?” Althea replied as a curtesy. Many years of experience had given her practice in appearing to follow Miss Dorkins’ conversation without paying her the least mind.
“Look at these.” Dorkins handed her a boot. “I cannot imagine what she was thinking, for they are not in the least like yours.”
Althea dutifully examined the boot thrust at her. It was made of a dark brown leather, with a hard leather sole and a small stacked heel. She turned it over, noticing that the under housemaid had not cleaned it thoroughly because a piece of plant matter stuck out from underneath the layers of the heel. A banded horsetail, by the look of it. She handed the boot back to Miss Dorkins. “I hope they find their owner, for they seem a good sturdy pair of boots. Just the thing to walk all over Ranleigh.”
“It is a good thing that I packed several pairs of boots for you, Lady Trent, or else you would be left with your satin slippers.”
“Which I would be sure to ruin with my explorations. Yes, I understand what a trial I must be to you, dear Miss Dorkins.”
“Who is a trial?” Jane entered the room without ceremony.
“Me, of course. Jane, how lovely you look with that cream satin gown. A rose from the gardens as a posy is all that you need to make you look like a blushing school girl.”
Jane laughed. “You know I pay you no mind, Althea, so you can leave off with your mendacious comments.”
“See how I am insulted and abused, Miss Dorkins? But seriously, Jane, I think Ranleigh agrees with you, for you have a glow now that I haven’t seen in many years.”
“I think it must be all the fresh air and exercise,” Jane said dismissively. “Now please hurry up or we will be late to dinner.”
“We wouldn’t want that, although I must say that since Cruikshank left us, we have not had quite the same thrill of dangerous conversation at our end of the table.”
“You don’t find Mr. Gregson dangerous?” Jane said with a smile.
“No, although I will admit that Mrs. Gregson puzzles me.”
Miss Dorkins handed Althea into a pale-yellow gown with green embroidery.
Jane shrugged. “She seems common enough to me.”
“She told me that she had no sadness for all of her siblings who died as children. That seems to me an odd sort of statement to make. It paints her as rather cold and not a little ruthless.”
“I suppose so, but the death of children is not so very uncommon. You are blessed that young Arthur is such a fine strong young man.”
“I have seen many dead children and wept for them even as they were my father’s patients and strangers to me. But I suppose others may not take death as I do.”
“You seem far more comfortable than most, Althea. I saw no tears for Lord Tunwell.”
“Adults yes, for I am not at all squeamish. But there is something about persons who have had no chance to experience life that I find terribly affecting. In any case, it was merely an observation and may not indicate anything in particular.”
Mercifully for Miss Dorkin’s peace of mind, the ladies were not the last to arrive and Althea was spared a sharp scold. Althea was escorted in to dinner by Mr. Gregson and followed his inconsequential chatter for the course of the meal. Althea had to admit that his superior manner rankled just a little bit. He was just like every other man of his ilk, satisfied in his own opinions. She caught Verlyn’s eye at one point by the merest chance, but his quick understanding of her boredom brought a smile to her lips that was answered by one of his own.
Lord George Verlyn had a delightful smile, Althea decided, and she tested its effect on her. There had been a point where such a smile would have stirred a fluttering of her heart, but she noticed that it produced a feeling of warmth and silent camaraderie now, not the stirrings of a more carnal nature. Those desires seemed to have been entirely reserved for his brother, who sat in brooding silence at the end of the table. Althea supposed that silence was preferable to flirtatious conversation with Lady Batterslea, but it was obvious that he was still in an unsettled mood.
After dinner, Jane offered to play some music for dancing and Althea readily agreed to Lord George’s invitation to take a turn. Norwich declined to participate, but instead took up a position by the piano, where he watched the proceedings and maintained desultory conversation with Jane.
“I fear your brother is not in charity with me at the moment,” Althea said.
“I’m sure it cannot be of long duration. My brother’s temper is quick but not resentful.”
“No indeed, but I fear he must often have his way for true happiness.” And then because Norwich’s sulking was such a lowering thought, she said, “Tell me another story. What was his favorite pastime as a child?”
“He was forever wandering about the house with his nose in a book. It put me all out of patience with him whenever I needed him to build a kite or some other much more exciting activity.”
“So he was not fond of athletic pursuits?”
“He was fond of them, particularly riding, but ideas were his real passion. Still are. I don’t know that I have ever met with someone as well read.”
“Indeed. I remarked upon it when we first met.”
Lord George smiled. “He mentioned that you had wide literary tastes.”
“We are certainly well matched in that regard.”
Later that evening, after Miss Dorkins had prepared Althea for bed, Althea sat by the dying embers of the small fire so thoughtfully lit in the guests’ bedrooms. She’d been mulling over her potential frog study, the baron, and her troubles with Norwich when Jane entered from the antechamber.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Jane said.
“Just thinking of the pond frogs. And you?”
“I suppose the same thing,” Jane said.
“I never pictured you a naturalist.”
“Your father did not have the time or inclination to tell you stories, did he?”
“What do you mean?”
“Magical stories about princesses and far off lands. Specifically, a certain story about a prince turned into a frog,” Jane said.
“And how does one make him a prince?” Althea asked.
“By kissing him, of course.”
“Ah, but can the heroine be sure he will become a prince? Perhaps he is just a frog.”
“That is the rub,” Jane replied. “And what about your frog? Is he a prince?”
“According to his brother, he is the best of men. No webbed feet.”
“It sounds as if you do not quite believe the reports.” Jane sank into the chair opposite Althea.
“I suppose I have had it too much to my liking since Arthur’s death. Do you not fear the loss of your independence, Jane?”
“An unmarried woman, even one of my age, can never be really considered independent. Our status in society is too low for that. Still, I do fear leaving Dettamoor Park and all that is dear to me.”
“Perhaps that is the cause of my hesitation as well.” Althea sighed. “Let us talk of pleasanter things.”
“Such as?”
“Light gossip, perhaps. I noticed that Mr. Gregson, despite his strictures on female morality, was most attentive to Lady Batterslea. He danced with her twice, I believe.”
“Three times, but we are a small party, so that accounts for it. Mr. Smithson is quite an elegant dancer. So light upon his feet.”
“Yes. He is quite surprising. Do you know anything about him? I fear I know nothing more than what he told me himself.”
“He is from Yorkshire and has been upon the town these last ten years or more.”
Althea nodded. “Sir Neville must have a penchant for persons of a northern orientation. Counting the late baron, there are three of our party that hail from the North.”
Jane nodded. “That is an odd coincidence. Although you would never know it by the polish of their speech.”
“No indeed. Especially Mr. Smithson. From what I can gather, he is the sort of man to be invited everywhere and by everyone. But single men usually are. Is there no gossip about potential marriage partners? A single man with an independence must have had many young women thrust in his way.”
“No one ever mentioned anything along those lines. Perhaps his fortune is more modest than he advertises. He could be nothing but debt, for all we know.”
“He certainly spends a sum on dress. His waistcoats are beyond anything. Particularly that one with the lions and the pillars. What is the mythological reference, do you know? I swear I should know it but cannot pull it out of my muddled brain.”
Jane laughed. “If you cannot make it out, I am certain I cannot. You are the scholar in the family.”
Althea chuckled. “A poor one if I have forgotten all my Greek mythology. So it is set we are to make a grand expedition to Torquay?”
“Yes. I think it shall be just the thing to alleviate the pall that has settled since Lord Tunwell’s accidental death.”
“If indeed it was an accident.”
“Don’t tell me that you have taken it into your head to investigate? Please Althea, Sir Neville is justly concerned enough as it is without causing more of a scene.”
“I promise I won’t cause any unpleasantness.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
And indeed Althea was true to her word for the next several days, managing to while the time away in long walks and pond studies. These were frequently interrupted by a most unlikely cause. Lord George Verlyn was also apparently a great enthusiast for the natural splendors of Ranleigh, and he and Althea often crossed paths. He seemed to take a keen interest in her pond frog observations, even going so far as to help her by holding some of the reeds apart so that she could peer into their watery habitat.
Their conversations were not all about science, however. On one of these occasions, Althea took the opportunity to quiz him on his inquiries related to Cruikshank.
“I can find no evidence that he was anywhere in the vicinity prior to his uncle’s death,” Verlyn said.
“Well, that is disappointing, I’m sure. Although he may have been a master of stealth, and able to avoid the village gossips.”
“He would have to have been with that handsome face he has. My experience with the fairer sex would lead me to believe that his appearance in a small village would be memorable.”
Althea looked up from her scribbled notes. “Do I detect a note of jealousy in your voice, Lord George?”
“No, I do not have a jealous nature. I have seen too much misery at his hands, however, to like the man.”
“Misery of the kind you mentioned before – gaming and debauchery?”
“And something of a more personal nature. My cousin, now Lady Graves, was entranced by him and then cruelly and publicly repelled. A woman with less sense would have gone into a decline after such treatment.”
“I am so very sorry to hear that. But as he had dubious prospects, her parents must have been somewhat relieved that the match did not move forward.”
“My parents certainly were. Isabel was in their keeping since her parents died some years ago of the influenza.”
“So she has grown up with her cousins?”
“Yes, you might say that. She is two years younger than my sister.”
“Then all’s well that ends well, I suppose, if she is now Lady Graves.”
“Graves is a decent enough young man. Perhaps a little too young to be a proper husband, but after all that passed with Cruikshank, we could not deny her.”
“And what is the suitable age for a husband?” Althea asked, smiling.
“Exactly my brother’s age, I think.” He smiled in return.
Althea looked down and then, because her curiosity got the better of her, casually said, “What of yourself, my lord? Has no lady tempted you to resign your bachelor state?”
