An Inconvenient Engagement Page 17

  He turned from the window, barely hearing his mother in the background discussing the details of the dinner party with Hodgekins. “I don’t know – he left it completely open for some time this week. But I thought we should plan the menu for whatever day it takes place. No, not beef. These are just some country friends – I am sure they have beef enough! Chicken will do, nothing fancy, or perhaps mutton. I don’t want Cook….oh, oh that would be perfect. Yes, no, that would do excellent! I will leave the rest to you, then. Just check with me when you have it planned.” She waited for Hodgekins to leave then rounded on George.

  “George! What is going on with William?”

  “Nothing to speak of.”

  “Well then, what to not speak of?”

  “Mother, let him be. He carries a lot trying to keep you in the style to which you are accustomed and still manage to pay the servants, bills, and keep himself in the appropriate style and manner of his station.”

  “And why should I not be kept? I am his father’s widow.”

  “And his stepmother.”

  “You would have made a better baronet.”

  “Mother, that is treason.”

  “Your brother is no king, though he takes liberties as though he is. Retrench! Vulgar.”

  “Then why keep repeating it?” George ducked out of the room while his mother’s mouth was still hanging open in shock.

  But he was concerned about William, though he would never have mentioned it to Delia. He was so close to having it all and so close to losing it in one stupid misstep! He would watch him during this dinner and see if he could discern the power this simple girl had over him. Discover it and break it if possible.

  For William’s sake. And theirs.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was the evening of William’s supper party. Delia fluttered around. It was going to be a difficult process to snub with delicacy for she was much more used to flattery with excess. It hurt her pride to offer a simplistic meal, but she gloried in the savings that provided yet another jab at her stepson.

  William was leaning by the mantle, staring into the fire. His head was pounding from the beating of his heart, and he was tired from not sleeping well. He knew his brother was observing him, and he was tired as well from being under watch. He was grateful that as yet George had said nothing to his mother, but the threat hung over him like a knife.

  The Pratts had agreed to Thursday evening, leaving Penelope and Eliza only two days to plan their attire. Eliza had wanted to wear her green, but Penelope had urged her to wear her dark royal blue gown instead. It was one of the ones she had received from Henrietta, and she had modified the sleeves and bodice slightly to accentuate her own figure. Penelope loaned her a pearl necklace and chose the necklace from her mother’s opal parure for herself. She wore a pale hydrangea blue gown that perfectly matched her lovely eyes. The two girls looked at each other in the glass and hugged. They looked very well indeed.

  The carriage was waiting and the four of them, Mrs. Ainsworth included, climbed inside and set off toward Lincoln House. Eliza was quiet – her nerves were about to tear her apart. She could barely swallow because her mouth was dry. When she thought of the kiss they had shared, she all but cried. Driving through London meant frequent jolts as the carriage started and stopped. They finally arrived and alighted at an immaculate white edifice with black door and shutters at the windows. It was nearly as large as Tredwell Abbey, but its main parlor was not nearly so grand when they were ushered in.

  “Mr. Aloysius Pratt, Mrs. Florence Ainsworth, Miss Penelope Pratt, and Miss Eliza Denham.” They were announced, and Eliza gazed on the setting before them. A wide fireplace spanned half the room, with William standing to attention at one end and his brother at the other. They made a striking pair, William in black and his brother in dark blue evening jackets. Sitting with a regal posture was a lady of perhaps Mrs. Ainsworth’s age but much different in appearance. She wore the latest fashion gown of plain wine undergown overtopped with the sheerest silk organza dress. Her jewelry was gold and garnets, setting off her artistically colored lips and cheeks. Her golden hair was arranged in a mass of curls and coils, giving the appearance of a childlike aureole. Her eyes were large and blue, though a little faded in luster. Both girls recognized a former beauty, and a formidable rival. She was not looking kindly on them.

  The business of introductions over, Delia motioned them all to sit.

  William began, “I hope London is treating you ladies well.”

  Eliza sat silent and let Penelope reply. “Oh yes, perfectly. We have enjoyed our walks in Vauxhall and will be going to the Museum on Saturday.”

  Mrs. Ainsworth fluttered and said, “Oh yes, my and I don’t know what I will do. All those stairs! But the girls would go, and so I must.”

  “Dear Mrs. Ainsworth, I am sure we will not force you to climb every stair in the museum. But we must, indeed, climb some!”

  “There are some excellent antiquities there. I particularly enjoyed the Egyptian artifacts.” William replied.

  Eliza could no longer keep quiet. “I am so interested to see them! My Uncle has one or two books on the subject, and I read them over and over as a child.”

  “Did you?” Delia’s voice was not encouraging.

  “I don’t think we even own a book on Egypt,” said George. “Mother wouldn’t know where to lay a hand on one. In fact, I am not even sure she can read.”

  “Outrageous child, of course I can read. French and German. I have no taste for nasty old things, dead mummies and such.”

  “I have been planning some improvements to the library at Tredwell,” said William.

  “Well, we have quite enough books here. It takes the maids a whole day to dust in there, and still it smells of books.” Delia sniffed.

  “Yes, we have the misfortune to have a library that smells of books.” George winked at his brother.

  William was about to comment, but Delia asked instead, “Dear William, how is Tollie faring?”

  “Much better. The wound was deep, but it is healing well.”

  “Will he be much affected, do you think?”

  “There may be some weakness to that shoulder, but nothing to hinder him.”

  “He was not charged?”

  “Daunton’s father did not press, and with his reputation being publicized, no one thought to arrest Tollie.”

  “I am glad, though in general I disapprove of these duels.”

  “A man’s honor, Mother, is worth preserving,” William said.

  “In this case, though, Daunton had no honor worth defending. I can’t think why he called Tollingham out.”

  “It is difficult to know.”

  Just then, supper was announced, and they went in. Supper was a lackluster affair, something that gave William much pain and his stepmother much satisfaction. It was finally over, and the ladies rose to return to the card room while the men drank their port. Delia swept before the girls with Mrs. Ainsworth trotting along behind them. They all sat down, and Delia stared off at a spot between two paintings for a full two minutes.

  The girls exchanged looks, and then Delia said,

  “I suppose you have your country dances in Lytchley?”

  “Yes ma’am. Have you been there?” Penelope asked.

  “Lytchley?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.”

  “But not recently?” questioned Penelope.

  “My husband made the purchase of the estate with William. My input was never called for, and I do not find that it agrees with me. So, no. Not recently.”

  “Oh, I see.” Penelope glanced at Eliza and raised her eyebrows.

  Delia forced herself to look in Eliza’s direction and said, “From our earlier conversation I understand you are recently home from school, Miss Denham.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “I am not sure which is worse. School or governess. Either one tends to fill girls’ heads with nonsense.”

  “I had though
t of becoming a governess.” Eliza’s chin lifted a little.

  Delia turned her cold blue eyes toward Eliza. Her lip almost curled. “Well. Perhaps I can be of assistance in finding you a position amongst my friends and acquaintances.”

  “I would be grateful, I am sure. But please do not trouble yourself.”

  “I shan’t. However, if I hear of something, I shall certainly let William know, and he can relay the information.”

  Eliza merely bowed her head, mortified and angry. Thankfully, the men joined them and conversation turned more cordial, until Delia said,

  “Miss Denham was explaining her plans of becoming a governess. Perhaps she would describe her ideal position?” William went red, and even George looked uncomfortable.

  “Miss Denham, please excuse…” William began, but Eliza stopped him with a raised hand.

  “Nonsense. Lady Strathom I am hoping to find a place with one or two girls, younger rather than older. I am well versed in all the usual accomplishments including French and German and have experience with younger pupils having lived at school for some years. There, does that help?”

  William poured himself something from a decanter and drank it, then considered the glass. George leaned back against the couch and looked thoughtful. “The Livingstones were looking for a governess, I wonder if they have found one. One daughter is …”

  Delia broke in, “If anything should come up, we will, of course, help. It is getting late, however, and I am sure our guests would like an early night given their plans for the morrow.”

  Mr. Pratt took the hint, and farewells were said. Eliza did not raise her eyes to William’s when he took her hand in farewell. He waited until they were gone before turning on his family.

  “What was that about? You purposefully humiliated a guest in my home.”

  “My home, William,” said Delia as she looked at him.

  “For life. My bills, my lease, my house.” He returned in a dangerous tone.

  George quickly came between them. “Mother, please. You were unnecessarily rude. William,” he sighed. “It is plain to us that the girl is in love with you, and just as plain to see you feel much the same. You are torturing her.”

  “She is nothing compared to Miss Lockley.” Delia sniffed.

  “Miss Denham does not…” he faltered, memories of the gallery intruding. “She…she is a sensible…”

  “She is a woman, William, and sensible women want wealthy men. What woman wouldn’t want to catch a man like you rather than waste her life as a governess? Think!” Delia’s voice rose shrilly.

  “She is not like you, Delia. Hungry for the biggest catch!”

  “William!” George thundered. “She may not be your mother, but she was father’s wife.”

  William took another drink. “My apologies...Mother.”

  She inclined her head, still too outraged to speak.

  “Do you not begin to see the mess this girl is causing? Whether she is scheming or not…”

  “I…I am engaged,” he said weakly.

  “She is not. Your being engaged does not mean she doesn’t hope.”

  “And, William, she does hope. It is in her eyes,” Delia added.

  William said nothing. Instead, he fought against the rush of freedom he felt at the thought of Eliza’s requiting his feelings. Instead, George was talking.

  “You must conquer this. You must. You are set to marry Maria Lockley, with twenty thousand pounds, and this same woman is set to visit your estate within the month. Think, William. Please!”

  William set his glass down with a clatter. The room went silent, and he stood stock still for a moment before striding decisively from the room.

  Delia watched him leave. “George, you must do something.”

  “What? What can I possibly do? He is lost!”

  “This cannot go on!”

  George was silent. He was remembering his brother’s eyes animated with life in a way he had never seen. He rubbed his forehead. What he wouldn’t give for Miss Eliza Denham to have even five thousand for a dowry. To have a couple fewer poor connexions, in short to be just a little less repulsive a choice.

  William absently steered through the cabs and carriages that filled the streets. He longed for a clear field to race his horse over but was unable even to walk on foot unhindered. The streets choked him as his family had. A dog ran between the wheels of a cab and yelped as the wheel bumped against him. His expression softened, reminded of Ben and Gower and the way Eliza had run courageously toward the trouble, ready to do what she could to help. A cabbie shouted at him, and he realized that he had paused in the middle of the street and was in danger of being run over. He quickly stepped onto the sidewalk and kept walking. So lost in thought was he that he did not notice the two shapes detach themselves from the side street he passed and fall in behind him.

  The evening had turned cold, and he adjusted his coat almost absently. He only then realized he had not stopped to put on gloves before stepping out, and he rubbed them to warmth before shoving them deep into the pockets of his coat. A clock rang the midnight hour and he paused, not sure where he had ended up. There were fewer cabs, and he could hear water dripping somewhere and a lone pair of footsteps receding. He was suddenly very aware, a sixth sense alerting him to impending danger and he lunged toward the street and raised his hand toward an oncoming cabbie.

  The first blow took him almost completely by surprise and came from behind, nearly knocking him into the path of the hansom cab. The cab lurched past, its cabbie unwilling to get in the midst of trouble. William swung around, his fist connecting with someone and he heard a grunt follow the impact. Something slammed into his forehead, and he swung in the direction of the blow. Skin split along his knuckles as his fist hammered into the skull of one thug to his left. An arm encircled his neck, and he was flung to the ground. He was up in a moment, even as a pair of blows landed on his back. They continued to scuffle until a whistle shrilled loudly, and the shadows vanished.

  He stood, bent over in pain and breathing heavily as the constable ran up to him.

  “Sir, are you alright?”

  William realized he was bleeding from a cut on his hand and one on his forehead. Blood had splattered along his collar and down his shirtfront, only some of it his own. “Yes, I will be fine. I just wasn’t paying attention.”

  “This isn’t the country, Sir. Best not walk alone this late.”

  William walked towards Lincoln House. His leg ached where he had fallen and his head was pounding. His back was throbbing from the punches that had landed there. He smiled grimly thinking that Leavitt was going to have his work cut out for him cleaning his clothes as well as his shoes. As he reached his own door and it was opened from within, the footman’s eyes grew wide, and he was ushered quickly inside.

  Hodgekins, the butler, exclaimed aloud at the sight of him in the candlelit entryway. One of the maids screamed. Delia came downstairs at the commotion and screamed herself when she saw him. The united noise alerted George, who came downstairs with cravat half unknotted. “William! What happened?”

  William held a hand up. “Please, everyone, I am quite all right!”

  “You need a doctor, William!” George was pushing his sleeves up and inspecting the damage.

  “Nonsense.”

  “The police! We must report this.” Delia fluttered about.

  “I spoke with a constable. There isn’t anything to be done.”

  “This is outrageous.”

  “Mother,” said George patiently. “Go to bed. William will be fine. I will stay up with him.”

  She could be heard complaining about ruffians and inept police all the way up the stairs. William closed his eyes as his valet sponged the drying blood from his face and hand. His actions caused the blood to flow fresh, and he was urged to hold the towel tight against his forehead while Leavitt supervised the preparation of a bath.

  George took the towel and checked the wound, saying, “You need to be more
careful. You could have been killed.”

  William winced and said, “That would have pleased Delia.”

  “This isn’t something to joke about.” George fixed him with a glance, and William dropped his gaze.

  “I’m not.”

  George took the towel from William and dabbed at the blood. “This looks worse than it is, but it needs to be cleaned up.”

  “Well, you can handle that, can’t you?”

  “Are you implying that my many youthful scrapes may have taught me something useful?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  “You look like a bath is in order – were you rolling around in the street?”

  “I think so, at one point.”

  George was quiet as he tended his brother while Hodgekins and Leavitt busied themselves getting the tub ready and heating water for a quick bath. George pressed a towel onto the cut above William’s eye. William took control of it, and George leaned back, regarding his brother. “Will…what are you doing to yourself?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” William leaned forward and stood as Leavitt helped him free of his clothes.

  George’s mouth tightened, and he tossed the towel down before walking off. “You probably don’t!”

  William watched his brother disappear up the stairs and allowed Leavitt to help him finish undressing and bathe. The water found an abrasion on his hip that he had been unaware of, and his hand began to bleed again freely. Once clean, his nightshirt pulled gingerly on and cuts sealed with court plaister, he crawled painfully into bed and fell to fitful sleep.

  Saturday was bright and sunny as the girls and their chaperone made their way along the streets of London. The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the short plaza of the British Museum. Granite stone steps led to the entrance, and inside, the great staircase led on upward to the right and left. Eliza’s gaze was drawn ever onward as the museum seemed to unfold before her, little glimpses of artifacts and displays that called her in every direction. She gripped Penelope’s arm in excitement, and Penelope squeezed her hand in return. Mrs. Ainsworth merely sighed heavily.