Author: Beverley Oakley
Category: Nonfiction
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He faced her squarely. “Well, you’re not coming inside until you furnish me with an address of your next of kin, or the house to which you are travelling.”
She shook her head.
“I was in the army for some years. I know how to make people talk.” He said it as threateningly as he could, but she just laughed.
“So was my father, but gentlemen with at least some heart and feeling, are far easier to manage than the kind of woman who revels in exerting authority over young girls. Believe me, Mr McAlister, I know. My benefactress packed me off to three seminaries for young ladies, and they both sent me back. Now she’s marrying me off because she doesn’t know how else to get rid of me. And I shall do it too, because, even though my evil benefactress is set to make some money into the bargain, I don’t think I have the fortitude to live with her long enough to get my inheritance.”
“Oh, so you’re a lady of great riches, are you?”
“I am. Or rather, I will be. Unfortunately, I don’t come into my inheritance for another six years though of course I’ll be married long before then. And the lucky gentleman to whom I decide to pledge my troth will then have control of it.” She paused for breath. “And what are you, Mr McAlister? A gentleman, so you say. Well, that’s all that matters to me right now because any gentleman who confesses that he might have had a hand in inadvertently spooking the horses, which of course nearly led to a lady almost drowning and being left in the terrible state like I am in, is honour-bound to look after me until they can deliver me properly to where I might be going.”
“Except that you won’t tell me where that is.”
“No, because you’ll send a message ahead, and I am not ready to do anyone’s bidding just yet.” She turned with a scowl at her maid who was making noises about the cold, saying crossly, “You didn’t nearly drown, Mabel. Be patient for just one minute while I make a bargain with Mr McAlister.” Then, turning to Theo, she said, “I do not intend telling you where I live and no, it doesn’t matter because there’s no one to give a fig about me. My evil benefactress knew there was every chance Mabel and I would spend the night on the road, so I doubt she will worry. She thought I might not arrive until tomorrow if there were rain. Actually, I think she’d happily see me…” she sent him an assessing look “captured by a highwayman except that she’d lose the money she’s set to gain by bartering me to the man she wants me to marry.”
“So, no family, Miss Scott?”
She shook her head but didn’t elaborate and, at the sudden tragic cast of her features which he didn’t think was feigned, Theodore felt his first stab of something that wasn’t irritation. “Then that makes two of us.”
It was too cold to spend the evening talking. Theodore tossed aside the reins and jumped out, holding out his arms to lift, first Miss Scott, and then her maid, to the ground.
A dim light shone through the window as they approached but the house was gloomy when he opened the door, and he was suddenly conscious of the smell of mustiness that he’d never noticed when Jane was alive. She’d been much better about managing the servants who, he knew, took advantage wherever they could.
“Mrs Rice will see to Mabel, and then she can find you something to wear and draw you a bath. You are about Jane’s height and size. That’s if all her clothes haven’t been bartered from under my nose.”
A brief look of outrage crossed Mrs Rice’s face, but she said nothing as she acceded to her master’s wishes and disappeared with Mabel in her wake while Theodore exhorted Miss Scott to warm herself in front of the fire in the meantime.
“And you’ll need this after your ordeal, I don’t doubt,” he said, removing the stopper from the brandy decanter that sat upon the sideboard. He poured them both a generous tot for he certainly needed to fortify himself for what was ahead.
A young female under his roof? He hoped very much she was not inclined to advertise their situation when it would reflect on her reputation with possibly more dire consequences than it would for him. Though it seemed nothing he did these days failed to attract opprobrium.
He’d barely seated himself in a chair before the fire, nursing his brandy thoughtfully, before she turned and thrust out her now-empty glass, saying with relish, “That was good. No wonder Mrs Hodge is so partial to it. I don’t suppose you’d mind if I had another.” She smiled, and added ingratiatingly, “In view of the fact that it is entirely due to you that I am placed in this very difficult situation.”
Theodore made a noise like a growl as he rose, reluctantly. “You have made mention of this fact. Did I not make it clear that it was the youngster I was teaching to shoot who should really be brought to task?”
“But you were the adult, and the teacher, I believe,” she said, taking the glass he handed her. “Not that I’m sorry for being here, like I said. It really is far more exciting than the alternative, and I wish I could stay here forever.” She wrinkled her nose. “Though I would have a word to the servants. I think your sister perhaps kept them in better order than you do, if you don’t mind my saying so, Mr McAlister.”
Theo observed her as she ran an obviously critical eye around his parlour. Her complexion was good; her hair a rich, golden colour, he suspected, though it was difficult to tell with her hair still damp. And while her teeth were pretty, a crooked eye tooth marred their perfection, though he thought it added to, rather than detracted from, her charm.
Leaning forward as he chastised himself for thinking along these lines, he tossed another log on the fire. “No doubt, for a schoolroom chit, you are well practised at keeping house.”
The combative flash in her eye was at such odds with the bedraggled chit of a girl she presented—pretty, notwithstanding—Theodore made no trouble to hide the sceptical roll of his eye which immediately drew her ire.
“Oh, I am not to be underestimated, sir. I hope you remember that.” She turned away from the fire and drew herself up to her full height, which was not too much over five feet, as she put her hands on her slim hips. It really was rather a stretch to imagine she was about to take a walk down the aisle, but he remembered how different Jane and her two young friends looked the last time they returned from the Ladies Seminary, only to be transformed by silks and feathers and jewels into veritable swans. It had certainly taken him by surprise.
“Mrs Hodge made that mistake, so I’d advise you to take care, Mr McAlister.” Miss Scott scanned her surroundings as if she were suddenly looking for something before asking him abruptly, “What is it that you do, sir? You are not independently wealthy, it would appear, and yet I doubt you are in trade. Ever since we met I’ve been trying to work you out.”
Theodore stretched out his booted feet and regarded her from beneath lowered lids. The girl was too impertinent for her own good.
“I’m a fortune hunter,” he said.
She nodded as if this were a perfectly acceptable calling. “So is the man I have all but agreed I shall marry. His house is in a pleasant location and in need of renovation. My fortune will enable that to happen, and I will be mistress of a fair estate, and wife to someone I consider sufficiently personable to make tolerable happiness an expectation. Mrs Hodge is determined that I marry him but I’m looking forward to a little more choice during this following week.” She sighed. “Sadly, if I have nothing to wear but rags, no one will pay me the slightest attention. That’s if Mrs Hodge will even allow me out of my bedchamber as she’ll say I’m a pitiful reflection of her good offices and all the expense she’s lavished on me. Expense! It’s my allowance which she keeps!”
“Do you really have a fortune?” Theodore asked, crossing one leg over the other and settling back into his chair. Despite himself, he was starting to enjoy the conversation.
“I’m vastly rich. Or rather, my husband will be since it will all go to him unless I’m prepared to wait until I’m twenty-five if only to enjoy it as a single woman. And since that would mean at least another six years enduring Mrs Hodge, I think I’d rather find a fortun
e-hunting husband with whom I can arrange something suitable.” She turned her back so that the front of her torn gown was now getting the benefit of the warmth from the flames. “And why are you a fortune hunter, Mr McAlister? Are you a gambler? Most men are. I have been very particular about the fact that I will not marry a gambler.”
“’Ere then, Miss. Yer bath is ready, an’ I found yer some things wot belonged ter Miss Mary.” Mrs Rice stood in the doorway and beckoned to Miss Scott. “It ain’t right that yer be ʼobknobbing all alone with a strange gennulman like me Mr McAlister. If yer were me daughter I’d be right upset ʼbout it.”
“Since I’m nobody’s daughter and don’t belong to anybody, that’s fortunate indeed,” said Miss Scott with an impish smile and a curtsey for Theodore.
“I’ll see you in the morning then, Miss Scott. Mrs Rice will see you to your room.”
She paused in the doorway, clearly reluctant to leave him or the warmth.
“I might just come downstairs for another little brandy, I think, Mr McAlister. The terrible shock you’ve caused me has all but destroyed my nerves, and I found that brandy you gave me quite fortifying,” she added brightly.
Chapter 3
“Ah, Fanny! Miss Scott has not yet arrived?”
Fanny smiled up at her husband who’d just put his head around the door, and seeing his wife not in company with Mrs Hodge, obviously now deemed it safe to enter.
“No doubt they’ve spent the night on the road,” she said, patting the sofa beside her. “Mrs Hodge seemed unconcerned.”
“Mrs Hodge is unconcerned about anything other than that which profits her. I always wondered at the attraction she held for Jeremy, though I suspect he took a perverse pleasure in being ordered about.” He sighed as he sank into the cushions beside Fanny, adding, “Just like me,” as he obediently brushed his fingers over the bare skin of Fanny’s neck which she had presented to him in invitation.
“A little higher, darling.” Fanny closed her eyes in pleasure as Fenton’s clever fingers insinuated themselves beneath her ruby choker. She’d dressed to impress that night, despite the fact that the guests in residence were few. The majority would arrive the following day for a five-night visit. Tonight, however, there were just Mrs Hodge, Lord Loxton, and Reverend Snell, in addition to members of the household: Fanny’s sister Antoinette and her husband Lord Quamby.
Fenton stroked Fanny’s earlobe. “Tell me, my love, do you intend to sit by and see that poor chit bartered by my late batman’s harridan of a widow for thirteen pieces of silver—"
“A thousand pounds,” Fanny corrected him, moving her head so he could gain access to the other side of her neck. “Or it is two? I don’t know where I heard the rumour that Mrs Hodge stands to gain considerably through persuading Lizzy to accept Mr Dalgleish’s suit, though I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“I’d like to determine if it’s true. I certainly hope it’s not. Dalgleish is a bounder. A libertine.”
“You may not like him, darling, but not everyone shares your sentiments that he is not quite the thing. And perhaps he would do very well for young Lizzy who, I gather, is a rather dull and unprepossessing piece.” Fanny was almost purring at her husband’s ministrations. She stretched languorously, tweaking the skirts of her red-velvet gown so she could more comfortably place her leg across his thigh. She knew that Minnie, the parlourmaid, understood from previous experience, the need to give advance notice of any new arrivals to the drawing room as Fanny, even after five years of marriage, often found it difficult to restrain her impulses where her handsome husband was concerned.
She turned to cup Fenton’s chin and said with an air of thoughtful appreciation, “You have to admit that Mr Dalgleish does have a certain cachet about him. I can see that a young lady with not much to recommend her—other than her fortune, of course—would be rather taken. Both you and Antoinette admired his dancing skill at Mrs Montrose’s ball the other month, if you recall.”
“I believe I remarked favourably upon his dancing expertise with some cynicism after he finished a flamboyant high kick with a rather dandyish flourish.” Fenton’s hand strayed to Fanny’s décolletage. “Your sister remarked favourably upon some of his additional attributes, which were shown to great advantage by the apparent scarcity of fabric used to construct his inexpressibles. But then, your sister’s judgement in men has always left a great deal to be desired. Barring Quamby, of course,” he added in a tone that conveyed both levity and disapproval, which caused Fanny to sigh.
“You put me in a difficult position, Fenton darling, if you came here to warn me off promoting the match.” Fanny hoisted herself into a sitting position. “Are you telling me I should actively discourage the two of them spending time together?”
“Not at all. My, but you are irresistible when you are out of sorts with me.” Fenton’s tone was mild. He touched the tip of her nose with his forefinger. “I’m just suggesting that this might be one occasion that you and your sister take a step back from your enthusiastic approach to matchmaking. Don’t push Miss Scott into something she will have to live with—perhaps with regret—for the rest of her life.”
“Surely anything would be better than living with Mrs Hodge for the next six years?”
“Six years is not sixty, my dear.”
Fanny fingered the pearl ribbon that was woven through her hair and frowned. “It’s true I’ve not met Lizzy Scott, and it’s true that I don’t think much of what I’ve heard about her,” she conceded. “But I have taken a great dislike to Mrs Hodge. Your poor batman was probably only too happy to be released from this mortal coil if he’d been leg-shackled to his Mistress Hodge for so long. You call it matchmaking, but I should consider it my duty to do what I can to ensure Miss Scott finds herself a nice young man so as to free herself from bondage to the old termagant.”
“Just not necessarily in order to throw her at Mr Dalgleish who clearly is only interested in her money.” Fenton rose to warm himself by the fire. “If there is some preposterous transaction between Mr Dalgleish and Mrs Hodge it surely can’t be legal and binding.”
“No,” Fanny agreed. “Mrs Hodge intimated that her husband entered into a business arrangement with Mr Dalgleish not long before he died. She said Lizzy had shown interest in Mr Dalgleish, and that some understanding regarding a match between them had been entered into as a result.”
“Well, that sounds vague and no basis to force Lizzy into a match she does not wish.”
“But if she does wish it?”
Fenton shrugged. “Then of course.” He glanced at his timepiece before heading for the door. “Forgive me for cutting this short, my love, but I must make myself scarce before Mrs Hodge arrives.”
Fanny put out an arm to detain him as he passed. “If not Mr Dalgleish, then to whom can we introduce Lizzy Scott? Mrs Hodge has set up my bristles nicely, and I consider it my duty to see poor dull Lizzy rescued from bondage to the woman. Have we invited any other eligible young men who may be in a marrying mood?”
“Anyone within four hours’ drive of Quamby House, you mean?” Fenton appeared to consider the question before he checked himself at the sound of distant voices. With a somewhat panicked glance at the door, he extricated his fingers from Fanny’s. “Rest assured I did not extend an invitation to Mr McAlister, even if his grandfather was Quamby’s crony and supped here every Yuletide for as long as Quamby can remember.”
“I’m glad to hear it for the grandson sounds hideously ramshackle. I’m sure he’d be too ashamed to show his face, in any case.” Fanny’s lips quirked. “Now, I suspect you’ve waited too long to make good your escape. Judging by the location of Mrs Hodge’s nasal bray, I’d say she was already at the juncture of the corridor and will be upon us within five seconds.”
Feigning horror, Fenton reached the sash window just as Minnie stepped into the room to announce the imminent arrival of Mrs Hodge and Reverend Snell.
“Oh Fenton, surely you’re not really—”
“My dear, desperate times call for desperate measures,” her husband declared, hooking one leg over the sill.
“But you know how it frightened me when you used to climb out of my bedchamber upon hearing Mama storming up the passage,” complained Fanny.
“It didn’t frighten you one bit! You’re only jealous you can’t join me but will in fact have to entertain our garrulous guest, alone.”
“That’s true, but— Ah, Mrs Hodge, how delightfully becoming that shade of puce is to your complexion.”
Ever the consummate hostess, Fanny welcomed her unwelcome guest, echoing Mrs Hodge’s regret as the woman accepted a glass of sherry, her lips twisted in a moue of disappointment at having just missed his ‘handsome lordship’, while only the billowing curtains gave any indication as to how narrow a miss it had been.
Chapter 4
Lizzy squeezed the water from her hair before dressing in the simple gown the servant had laid out on the bed. A night-rail lay beside it, but there was too much novelty to be had from engaging Mr McAlister in the company he was honour-bound to offer her, than to go straight to sleep which is what she most certainly should have done.
And which she may have done if the warmth of the brandy hadn’t dispelled any of Mrs Hodge’s cautions about dangerous situations that could result from spending time alone with handsome young men.
Of course, her reputation was at risk, but if she arrived at her destination the following day with Mabel in tow, no one would know she hadn’t spent the night at an inn.
Tweaking the neckline of the unadorned and rather worn white muslin gown she had been lent, Lizzy moved the candlestick on the dressing table to experiment with the lighting on her skin, which was glowing after her bath.