06.The Penniless Peer (The Eternal Collection) (7 page)

“Then you are Lord Farquhar’s niece!” Sir Nicolas exclaimed. “I know your uncle, Miss Lambert. He is most distinguished and a close friend of the Prince Regent.”

Fenella had reached Sir Nicolas’s side. She curtsied as she said,

 “And you must be Sir Nicolas Waringham.”

“You are correct in your assumption, Miss Lambert,” Sir Nicolas replied. His bow was perfunctory and he barely bent his head.

Fenella was thinking quickly. It would certainly not do for Sir Nicolas to go in search of Hetty and Periquine. He might surprise them in what would appear to him, since he was Hetty’s suitor, to be a reprehensible situation.

What was more, if he were to tell Sir Virgil there was no doubt that they would both be in trouble.

There was only one thing to do, Fenella decided, she must somehow keep Sir Nicolas engaged until they returned.

“I do not think Hetty will be long,” she said evasively, “and I am so very interested to meet you.”

“Indeed! “ Sir Nicolas raised his quizzing-glass once again.

It was obvious he had not been impressed by Fenella’s somewhat shabby appearance. Since she had been working upstairs in the bed-room, her hair was curling untidily round her forehead, and not at all in the decorous manner expected of a young lady of Fashion.

“Periquine has told me you have a most interesting ancestry,” Fenella said.

For a moment she thought the hard and indifferent expression on Sir Nicholas’s face relaxed a little.

“My family tree is in fact unique,” he replied. “I am as I expect you know, the Premier Baronet of Great Britain. My ancestors were land-owners and Sheriffs before William the Conqueror invaded these shores.”

“How thrilling,” Fenella said, “it must make you very proud.”

“Why not?” Sir Nicolas enquired.

He looked round the room as he spoke. His eyes seemed to miss nothing and Fenella thought there was a little curl of contempt on his lips. Then he said, as if he excused the situation to himself,

 “The Corburys are also of ancient lineage?”

“They go back as far as Henry VIII,” Fenella said quickly.

“Before that,” Sir Nicolas corrected. “There was a Con- bury at the Battle of Agincourt.”

“Oh, was there?” Fenella exclaimed with interest. “You must tell Periquine ! I am sure he would be delighted.”

“I find people are sadly uninterested in their family trees,” Sir Nicolas replied. “To me breeding is of the utmost import.”

“I can believe that.” Fenella said hoping she did not sound sarcastic. “At the same time, Sir Nicholas, you must realise that we are all descended from Adam.”

He looked at her in astonishment. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, it is obvious is it not?” Fenella asked. “Unless men descended like angels from the skies or came up like devils from down below, every man and woman on earth today must have originated from the first man and woman, whoever they may be.”

She saw that the idea which she had put forward to divert him had certainly succeeded. Sir Nicholas tapped his quizzing-glass against his teeth and then sat down in an armchair.

“I must have time to think about this most interesting contention of yours, Miss Lambert,” he said. “I must admit it had never occurred to me before, but now I see there is a certain reasoning in what you say.”

“What is more important than breeding,” Fenella continued, “are brains and bravery. Every family which has been ennobled and knighted have originally received their title for some deed of valour or service in statesmanship.

“We should bring up our children to strive to better themselves, not to be content with what they have inherited from their dead ancestors.”

She saw a look almost of astonishment in Sir Nicolas’s eyes, and thought that perhaps she was being unkind. His family tree must be, she thought, very precious to him.

It was his hobby, his consuming interest, something which he had made peculiarly his own, and now she was trying to belittle it to him.

“I hope one day, Sir Nicolas,” she said quickly, “I shall have the opportunity of seeing your family tree.”

“I would like to show it to you,” he answered, “but I do not suppose you would find it very interesting. Genealogical tables are quite difficult to understand and most people have no conception of what they mean.”

“As a matter of fact I do understand them,” Fenella smiled. “Some years ago my father was working on ours. He is very fond of research, he made me help him, and I discovered some quite fascinating ancestors who I had no idea existed. One was a very wicked Austrian Princess who set the whole Court in a twitter by her scandalous misdemeanours.”

“Austrian!” Sir Nicolas exclaimed. “That would account, Miss Lambert, for the colour of your hair.”

Fenella looked at him questioningly and he said,

 “Did you not realise that the Austrian women, especially those who live in Vienna, are famous for their very dark red hair?”

“And so I have inherited it down the ages!” Fenella cried, “what a wonderful thought! And perhaps I have also inherited some of the Princess’s more reprehensible qualities.” She looked at Sir Nicolas challengingly as she spoke.

“I should have thought that unlikely,” he said dryly.

“Did you have any surprises when you were researching for your family tree?” Fenella asked.

She looked surreptitiously at the clock as she spoke. She was finding it hard to keep Sir Nicolas engaged and she was hoping that Hetty and Periquine would not be long.

Surely, she thought, Hetty would be expected to return home at a reasonable time?

It was obvious that Sir Nicolas on enquiring at the Hall where she was, had been told that she was visiting Mrs. Buckle, the supposedly ill House-Keeper at the Priory.

But nearly two hours in which to make a visit of mercy would strain the credibility of even the most doting parent.

 “Yes, I discovered several extremely interesting characters, among my mother’s ancestors who were the Earls of St. Quentin,” Sir Nicolas was saying. “The Emperor Charlemagne was one and one of the Habsburg Kings was another. Now I think of it, there is a faint chance, Miss Lambert, that we might be related.”

“That would be very exciting,” Fenella said. “If you ever come here again I might get our family tree from Papa and bring it for your perusal.”

“I should like that,” Sir Nicolas said and she realised he was speaking quite sincerely.

“Tell me about the Habsburg King whose blood we may both have in our veins,” Fenella pleaded.

“Unfortunately there is not a great deal known about him . . .” Sir Nicolas began.

Because she was really curious Fenella was leaning forward intently, when suddenly the door of the Salon opened and Hetty and Lord Corbury appeared together.

There was a little silence and quite unexpectedly Fenella felt guilty, as if she were doing something wrong.

Perhaps it was the annoyance in Hetty’s eyes or the expression in Lord Corbury’s. She was not certain. She only knew it brought her swiftly to her feet as with a little exclamation Hetty hurried forward with both hands outstretched.

“Sir Nicolas ! you have arrived at last,” she exclaimed. “We had almost given up hope of ever seeing you.”

“I was unfortunately delayed,” Sir Nicolas replied taking both Hetty’s hands in his, but raising only one to his lips.

“But now at last you are here and I am overcome with chagrin to think I was not waiting at home for you, as I have been every day this week.”

“You should not have put yourself out on my account,” Sir Nicolas said.

He spoke politely, but Fenella thought with a little smile that that was exactly what he did expect. He must have been quite annoyed to find on his arrival that Hetty was not waiting for him.

“How do you do, Waringham,” Lord Corbury said, and it was quite obvious from his tone of voice and the manner in which he held out his hand that he was definitely not pleased to see Sir Nicolas.

“The servants told me on my arrival that Hetty had come here,” Sir Nicolas explained, “and as it was such a short distance I drove on in search of her.”

“And now you have found me! “ Hetty exclaimed. “How delightful it is to think that you will be our guest! Papa and Mama have been so looking forward to entertaining you.”

Sir Nicolas’s eyes were on her lovely face before he answered slowly,

 “I hope you too have been looking forward to my visit.”

 “I have indeed,” Hetty smiled, “and I have many plans of ways of amusing ourselves. Come, we must go home.”

She turned as she spoke, and then as if she saw Fenella for the first time she said with a sharp note in her voice,

 “Really, Fenella, you look a sad romp, and surely it is time you had a new gown. The one you have on has certainly done its duty through the years.”

There was a look in Hetty’s beautiful blue eyes which told Fenella that the reason for her attack lay in the fact that she and Sir Nicolas had appeared quite at home together when Hetty had first come into the room.

She was wondering how she could answer when Lord Corbury said almost roughly,

 “You know as well as I do, Hetty, my Cousin Lionel spends all his money on books and there is none to spare for Fenella. New gowns, although you may not be aware of it, cost money.”

Fenella knew from a note in his voice that he was not really defending her but hating Sir Nicolas because he was rich and because Hetty had been so warm in her greeting of him.

“Poor Fenella, I had forgotten! “ Hetty said in a somewhat affected tone.

She held out her hand to Lord Corbury.

“Goodbye, Periquine, it is delightful to find you home again and so unexpectedly. I know Mama and Papa will want to ask you over to dinner one evening. Papa was saying only yesterday he wondered when you would return.”

She turned her head towards Sir Nicolas and added,

 “Periquine and I were brought up together as children, but since he left the Army he has been having a gay time in London and the country now has little fascination for him.”

“That is where you are mistaken,” Lord Corbury corrected. “When you are in Sussex I find it the most fascinating place in the world.”

Fenella drew in her breath. She knew that Periquine was deliberately asserting himself to show Sir Nicolas that he too was a suitor for Hetty’s hand, and she was afraid that Hetty would not be pleased at his being so outspoken.

But Hetty was used to having every man who looked into her lovely face a slave to her beauty.

“Dear Periquine, you were always so flattering,” she simpered.

Then slipping her arm through Sir Nicolas’s she looked up into his eyes and said confidingly,

 “Take me away, Sir Nicolas, or Periquine will turn my head with his compliments. I swear he has a touch of the Irish in him, for he expends his blarney on every pretty girl he meets.”

Lord Corbury’s lips were pressed tightly together and his chin squared. Fenella saw the flash of anger in his eyes, and fearing that he would make things worse for himself, she said hastily,

 “Goodbye, Hetty, you look lovely, simply lovely! I am sure that not only Periquine but every man in Sussex would vote you the most beautiful girl in the world, if they had the opportunity to do so.”

As she finished speaking she realised that Sir Nicolas was smiling at her. Not a very broad smile it was true, little more than a stiff stretching of his lips, but nevertheless a smile of understanding.

‘Perhaps he is more perceptive than he appears,’ she thought to herself.

Then with a flutter of her blue skirts Hetty led the way from the Salon into the Hall, chattering to Sir Nicolas and leaning on his arm as they walked towards the front door.

Because there was nothing else for them to do, Lord Corbury and Fenella followed behind.

‘It is almost like a wedding procession,’ Fenella thought to herself and realised how infuriated Periquine would be if she said the words aloud.

Outside in the drive there were two vehicles, both drawn by magnificent horse-flesh.

Hetty’s chaise, which she often drove herself, had only one horse but Sir Nicolas, having come from London, had a Phaeton drawn by four.

It was clear that he had changed horses on the way, because the team he had now were still spirited, still chafing at their bits, fidgeting and anxious to move off.

“Will you come with me?” Sir Nicolas asked Hetty.

“But of course,” she answered.

He helped her into the Phaeton before he walked round to the other side and climbing into the driver’s seat took the reins from his groom.

Towering like a Queen above them Hetty made a graceful gesture with her gloved hand.

“Goodbye, Periquine, goodbye Fenella,” she said, “I hope I shall see you both again soon.”

Then Sir Nicolas started his horses, and with the wheels of the Phaeton scrunching on the loose gravel they drove away down the avenue of oak trees.

“Curse him! “ Lord Corbury said furiously as Fenella stood watching them out of sight. “How can I compete with a man who can afford horses like that?”

“One does not love anyone for their horses,” Fenella replied.

“But Hetty cannot help being impressed with them,” Lord Corbury answered. “And she is impressed with him anyway.”

“He is very stiff,” Fenella said, “but I think if he relaxed he might be quite interesting.”

“Interesting! That stuck-up, stuffed pelican!” Lord Corbury ejaculated. “And what in God’s name were you saying to him when we came into the room?”

“I was trying to keep him from coming in search of Hetty,” Fenella answered. “I did not think you would want him bursting upon you in the arbour.”

“How did you know we were in the arb-?” Lord Conbury began. Then added, “Blast it, Fenella, you know too much! It was bad luck his turning up after all. I was beginning to think that Hetty had forgotten his very existence.”

He walked back into the house and Fenella followed him.

It was always the same, she thought, after Hetty had been at the Priory she left Periquine frustrated and unhappy.

“Did you not enjoy your time together?” she asked in a small voice.

“Of course I did,” Lord Corbury answered.