06.The Penniless Peer (The Eternal Collection) (10 page)

 “It is quite easy, I will arrange everything.”

“What do you mean by that?” Fenella asked.

She spoke rather absently as if she were not really interested, because she had just noticed a hole in one of Periquine’s cravats.

A number of them were getting old, she realised, and although he had a fairly good supply they were undoubtedly expensive and it would be difficult to replace those that would soon be past being worn.

“I travel,” Sir Nicolas said, “with two valets, two coachmen and two grooms. My second valet and my second groom are both trained to wait at table. They will be here this evening.

“My head valet who has been with me for many years is a first-class chef. I had him taught when he was quite young so that, when I went abroad or journeyed North, I should not suffer any inconvenience if we were forced to stay at Inns where the food is usually inedible.”

Fenella put down her iron and stared at him wide-eyed.

“What are you suggesting?”

“I am not suggesting,” Sir Nicolas said. “I am informing you that everything will. be seen to this evening and you will entertain me at dinner as I planned you should do.”

“And what do you think Periquine will say to that?” Fenella asked. “After all, this is his house.”

“I can hardly believe that Corbury, selfish and egotistical though he may be,” Sir Nicolas said curtly, “will insist on your cooking his dinner as if you were a servant, when there is a reasonable alternative.”

He paused and added,

 “Indeed I very much doubt if he will even notice the change in plan. For I am quite convinced you have not told him what you intend to do.”

This was the truth and Fenella could not contradict it. She was however surprised that Sir Nicolas should have such an insight into the relationship between herself and her cousin.

“Is what you — suggest really — possible?” she asked hesitatingly.

“It is not only possible,” Sir Nicolas replied, “it is what is going to take place. Have you planned the menu?”

“Yes of course,” Fenella said. “It is rather simple, not the luxurious dishes to which you are used.”

“My man will produce those in which he excels and which he knows I prefer,” Sir Nicolas said. “He will also bring all the necessary ingredients. You can leave everything in his hands. He will be over immediately after luncheon.”

Fenella took the irons away from the fire and picked up the crisp white cravats.

“I suppose I ought to say thank you,” she said, “but you have taken my breath away. I am not used to having everything managed for me.”

Even as she spoke she wished that Periquine would be as positive and perhaps as masterful.

‘It is having money,’ she thought, ‘knowing you only have to give a command and it is carried out. Knowing there are always people paid to obey one’s orders.’

At the same time she knew that in truth she was relieved that she would not have to cook the dinner and perhaps have Hetty learn later that she had done so.

She knew how easy it would be for the spoilt Beauty to sneer and make fun of her slavish devotion to Periquine, and for him to be embarrassed by it. There was always the possibility that Hetty would make him feel awkward and perhaps ashamed of imposing on her.

She felt in some ways that she should refuse to allow Sir Nicolas to interfere, and yet his plan seemed to make everything so easy.

As they walked from the laundry back along the passage towards the Salon, Fenella said,

 “What did you really want to see me about this morning?”

She had an idea that they had been talking of something the day before and Sir Nicolas had now dropped in to speak further about it. But she could not think what it was and wanted him to remind her.

“Do I have to have an excuse?” Sir Nicolas enquired.

Fenella looked at him quickly. She could not believe that he really came to see her just for herself.

She was aware that he liked talking to her about his genealogical interests. But she supposed that since there was no-one else that he could converse with in such a manner, anyone was better than no-one.

Nevertheless he was Hetty’s suitor, and the fact that he was staying on at the Hall rather longer than had been anticipated was surely an indication that sooner or later he would declare himself.

In which case there was every likelihood that Sir Virgil would accept him enthusiastically as his future son-in-law.

Fenella did not answer Sir Nicolas’s question. Instead she put the cravats down on a chair in the hall ready for her to take them upstairs to Periquine’s bed-room, and led the way to the Salon.

“I ought to offer you some refreshment,” she said, “and as a matter of fact there is some wine in the house, because Periquine bought it for the dinner party tonight.”

“Is the cellar really empty?” Sir Nicolas enquired in a voice which told Fenella that to him it was an unheard-of contingency.

“Completely,” she answered, “but do not tell Augustus so. If you do, he is certain to say that the port is not mature enough for him, and that will annoy Periquine. “

Hetty’s brother Augustus Baldwyn was a man for whom Fenella had an almost violent dislike.

He had always been odious as a child, and now that he was grown-up he made it a practice to ogle every young woman under the age of forty and to boast volubly of his success to anyone who would listen to him.

“I will certainly not do anything which would upset you,” Sir Nicolas said. “And I am sorry, Fenella, that this dinner-party should have caused so much commotion. I had no idea when I suggested it to Hetty what it would entail.”

Fenella did not retort that more than likely Hetty also welcomed it as an opportunity of seeing Periquine.

Since Sir Nicolas’s arrival she had not been able to get away so often to visit the Priory, even presuming she had wished to do so, with the result that Periquine had been on edge and ready to sink into the dismals when the day passed without a sight of her.

“You are not to apologise,” Fenella said. “It is not your fault that things are as they are. But try to remember that Periquine is below hatches and please, whatever you do, do not suggest any gaming after dinner. You know how that odious Augustus always tries to win from people who cannot afford it.”

“He does not win from me,” Sir Nicolas replied.

“Then I am glad you are too clever for him,” Fenella said. “He is always proclaiming that he wins thousands of pounds a year. And although frankly I do not believe him, it infuriates me to hear him talk in such a bumptious manner.”

“Shall I prevent him from coming tonight?” Sir Nicolas said with what was for him quite a broad smile.

“I wish you could,” Fenella said, “but Hetty must have a chaperon. Sir Virgil’s aspirations would be all too obvious if he allowed you to escort her alone in a closed carriage after dark.”

She spoke without thinking and added quickly,

 “I am sorry, Sir Nicolas, I should not have said that.”

“You can say anything you please,” he answered. “That is what I most like about you. You do not pretend, and you speak the truth.”

“Not always, I am afraid,” Fenella said.

“I think with eyes like yours it would be difficult for you to lie,” Sir Nicolas said unexpectedly.

She looked up at him and saw an expression in his face which made her feel strange, as if quite by mistake she had stumbled on something intimate and secret.

Then before she could speak or Sir Nicolas could say anything else, the door opened and Lord Corbury came bursting into the room.

“Look at this, Fenella,” he shouted, “what the hell am I - ”

Fenella saw he had a letter in his hand. Then as he realised that she was not alone and that Sir Nicolas was with her he stopped speaking.

He stiffened and with what was obviously an effort he said more quietly,

 “Good morning, Waringham, I was not expecting you.”

“I was just leaving,” Sir Nicolas said suavely. “I called to see Miss Lambert and I must no longer encroach upon her valuable time.”

As he spoke he bowed and raised Fenella’s hand to his lips, before with his usual stiff dignity he walked from the room.

Lord Corbury made no effort to escort him to the front door. Instead he turned to Fenella with the letter in his hand and an almost agonized expression on his handsome face.

“Read this,” he said, “read it and tell me what the devil I can do!”

Fenella took the letter from him. She saw it was written in French and was glad that she was proficient in that language.

The writing-paper smelt strongly of the fragrance of gardenias, the hand-writing was elaborate and obviously feminine.

She turned a little sideways so that the light from the window could fall on the paper, while Lord Corbury walked to the mantelpiece to stand staring in a dejected fashion into the empty fire-place.

Mon cher,

I have the Greatest good News which I know will make You Happy. I am a Widow! My poor Husband passed away two months ago. I have not Written before because I have been so Busily Occupied in settling His vast Estates.

Despite the War and the deprivations from which We all Suffered, He was a very rich man and His lands Overseas are still intact and in good Heart.

Everything is now Settled to the Satisfaction of the Attorneys and Myself. It is therefore with the greatest Delight Mon Cher, Periquine, that I can come to You as We planned, and We can be Married as soon as it can be arranged.

I am crossing the Channel on Tuesday 27th May and should be with You the following Day. I am not certain at which time my Ship will arrive in Dover, but I will hire a post-chaise with four good Horses as soon as I disembark and it shall carry Me with all swiftness to Your beautiful Home of which You have told Me so much. Then I shall be in Your arms and all Our problems for the future will be solved - for We shall be Together. My heart and my Love are Yours as always.

I remain Your most Devoted and Adoring,

Amaline.

Fenella read through the letter, her eyes growing wider and more surprised with every word until she reached the end.

Then she looked up at Periquine and said almost inaudibly,

 “Who is she?”

“Madame D’Arbley,” he replied. “I met her, of course, while I was in France.”

“You love — her?”

“I was fond of her while I was abroad,” he answered, “but I never expected her husband to die.”

“You mean,” Fenella said her voice growing a little stronger, “that you told her that if she was free you would wish to marry her.”

Lord Corbury straightened himself.

“A man says a lot of damn silly things at certain times,” he muttered.

“You mean — that she was — she was your — mistress?”

“Oh hell, Fenella,” Lord Corbury said sharply, “what do you expect a fellow to do? When the fighting was over the only amusement within miles of where we were camped was the D’Arbleys’ Chateau. They were very hospitable. The Officers all fought for invitations from the alluring Amaline.”

“And she fell in love with you?” Fenella asked.

“We were both somewhat infatuated,” Lord Corbury replied frankly. “But I never thought there was any chance of her being free or of her taking me so seriously. Curse it, I have not heard from the woman since I left that part of France.”

“You were in Belgium after Waterloo.”

“And Amaline was fifty miles away.”

Fenella looked down again at the letter.

“She appears very — determined,” she said uncomfortably.

“She would be!” Lord Corbury said grimly. “The French love a title, and Amaline had often expressed her regret in no uncertain terms that her husband was not a nobleman.”

“What are you going to do?” Fenella asked.

“That is what I am asking you,” Lord Corbury replied. “When does she say she is arriving?”

“Wednesday, 28th...” She stopped.

“Periquine, do you realise that is today? She will be here this afternoon! You cannot ask her to stay. Remember Hetty is coming to dinner this evening.”

“Oh my God!”

Lord Corbury put his hand to his forehead. Then he walked across the room to stand at the window looking out into the garden.

“Help me! Fenella, help me !” he cried, “this is one of the worst jams I have ever been in.”

“You do not wish to — marry her — ?” Fenella asked.

 “Marry her? Of course I do not want to marry her!” Lord Corbury retorted. “It was all over and done with by the time the Regiment moved. I am not saying that she did not give me a good time and I found her very attractive. But as for marriage - she is not at all the type of woman I would want as my wife. Besides there have been - several others since.”

“And now Hetty,” Fenella said softly.

“If Hetty got to hear of this it would be disastrous,” Lord Corbury said. “Only yesterday she asked me...”

He stopped as if what he was about to say was too intimate to relate even to Fenella.

“We have to think of something,” Fenella said desperately.

Then Periquine’s words,

 “There have been several others since” seemed to repeat themselves in her mind.

 “Periquine, I have an idea.”

“It had better be a good one,” he answered grimly.

 “It is, I think it is very good. I must be your wife! “

Chapter Five

“My wife!” Lord Corbury echoed.

“I meant — that I should — pretend to be your — wife,” Fenella said quickly, a faint colour coming to her cheeks as she realised he might have misunderstood what she meant.

He did not answer, and after a moment she went on,

 “Do you not see, Periquine, it is the only possible way to get rid of your friend immediately? She will not want to stay if she thinks you are married, and to make quite sure she goes, I have another idea.”

“What is that?” Lord Corbury asked.