A Season for the Heart (14 page)

“Rather drastic, do you not think?” asked Pommy bitterly. “Like burning the barn to frighten away a stinkbug.”

“An interesting bucolic comparison,” replied Aurora, biting her lips to keep from breaking into peals of laughter.

But Pommy could not miss seeing the amusement sparkling in her employer’s eyes. “Do you think he was funning me?” she asked in some confusion.

“Oh, no!” gasped Her Ladyship, “from what I know of Derek, he would not—er—fun about such a serious matter. He is not, I am convinced, in the habit of going about London proposing to young ladies in jest.” She shook her head, still smiling broadly. “Too dangerous, you see,” she explained. “Some of them might take him up on it.”

Pommy stiffened. “I cannot quite see why Lord Austell and yourself view this matter as a jest, Lady Masterson,” she said. “I had thought the situation might be, at the least, extremely unpleasant for His Lordship, but if he is to make a joke of it—”

At once Lady Masterson sobered. “But child, how is it a jest for man to offer for you? Quite a compliment, one would think, from such a high stickler as Lord Austell!”

“But it was surely the merest badinage!” wailed Pommy.

“He told you that?”

“No, but
surely
—”

“Then he meant it. You are a very fortunate young woman, my dear Pommy. Derek has long been the despair of the matchmaking mamas.”

At this moment, Gordon reentered the bedroom, bearing a tray on which reposed a Waterford decanter and two exquisite glasses. Her mistress beamed satisfaction. “As ever, Gordon, you are awake upon all suits—Gareth would say,” she added hastily, encountering a minatory look from her dresser at this use of cant. “You must pour a glass for Miss Pommy, and offer her your congratulations upon her engagement to the Earl of Austell.”

Pommy waited, cringing, for the look of disapproval—or worse, scorn—which would follow Her Ladyship’s announcement. Instead, a pleased smile appeared upon the Dragon’s countenance, and she said, in a cordial voice, “I wish you happy, Miss Pommy, I’m sure!” As she offered the filled glasses, she continued, with a sly smile, “Of course it was plain to see which way the wind was blowing when His Lordship brought Miss Pommy to stay with Your Ladyship.”

Ignoring Pommy’s astounded look, the two older ladies smiled at one another. Then, since the girl merely shook her head in dazed rejection of the sherry, Lady Masterson told Gordon to drink it in a toast to Miss Melpomene Rand.

Eleven

In a much less fashionable section of London a council of war was in session at this moment. Mrs. Henga Rand had instructed her hired coachman to return to the rented house as quickly as possible, and once there, had emptied her budget to Squire Rand, ending with the angry demand to know what he intended to do about the scandalous goings-on of his niece—thank God, not a member of his wife’s family, who had been noted for their circumspect behavior throughout two counties.

“For it is
your
name she is besmirching all over Town, Charles,” she concluded sharply.

While wife and daughters hung avidly upon his answer, Squire Rand pursed his lips in and out as was his wont when mulling over an important decision. At length he nodded.

“You are sure it was the same man who came to pick her up at Highcliff Manor?”

Three female voices simultaneously assured him that it was.

“Makes it demmed awkward,” ruminated the squire.

“
What?
” shrieked his wife.

“Fellow’s an Earl, y’know. Usual rules don’t apply. Can you see me offering to horsewhip him? Call him out?” asked the squire dubiously.

“Pommy isn’t an Earl,” Ceci pointed out. It would be too much if the despised cousin were to receive the attentions of an Earl, however clandestinely, while she herself had to make do with no better than a Baronet—and he vastly toplofty and spoiled, and possessed of a discouraging mama besides.

“The case is that I ain’t in any hurry to break squares with a member of the Peerage,” said the squire petulantly. “Why can’t you act as if you’d never seen her? You didn’t make yourselves known, I collect?”

“Of course not!” snapped his wife. “I, to speak to that—that—!”

“Then I can’t for the life of me see why you’re so hot to have me seek her out. If I bring her here, you’ll be forced to speak to her, if only to point out the error of her ways,” said her disgruntled husband.

“
That
is different!” his wife informed him loftily, and the girls added their chorus of agreement. Their mother told them she would thank them not to presume that
they
would be on any terms of easy conversation with one who was no better than a Fallen Woman. She added that she would know how to deal with such a female as Pommy had shown herself to be. “It is the fault of all those books,” she said scornfully. “I have often warned you that no good would come of letting her waste time
reading!
”

But no measures, defensive or punitive, could be taken until the girl was back under their control. After an acrimonious discussion, it was finally agreed that the squire’s brother, Colonel George Rand of the Seventh Hussars, be given the task of calling upon Lord Austell and demanding the return of his niece.

“For it is certain,” claimed Mrs. Rand, “that the Earl will not have the brass to deny a member of the girl’s family! And your brother, as I have often said, is a stiff-rumped military man, toplofty enough to beard even a Duke in his den! I am sure he has never put himself out to be conciliating to
me!
In fact, if I recall correctly, he had always a soft spot for Melpomene. And now we see what has come of it!”

Squire Rand did not quite comprehend how his brother George’s rather tepid affection for the child Pommy could be blamed for the mull she had gotten herself into, but he forbore to correct his wife, since her proposal accorded very well with his own wishes in the matter. For one thing, he had absolutely no desire to come to points with an Earl, and was very willing to let his brother take the risks. Had he not been mentioned in dispatches by General Whitelock from South America? Let him prove his courage at home for a change! Even stronger, however, was his feeling that George had let him down badly by selling up his patrimony as soon as their father died, thus removing a large portion of land and revenue from the new squire’s estate. It was understandable that he wished to purchase his commission, but was it necessary to dispose of the whole of his inheritance to do so? The memory of certain harsh comments made by George upon his older brother’s inability to make a profit out of their ancestral acres still rankled. How could any man make a profit out of lands so depleted by their father’s poor management? The squire decided it was no more than just that George should have to do battle with the Earl, since he was, after all, the soldier in the family.

A footman was sent round to Colonel George Rand’s apartments, with an urgent request for an immediate parley. Then the squire sought out his wife and advised her that she had better make sure the dinner was better than passable, for it was well known to all of them that George was a sharp and outspoken critic of a poorly chosen or prepared meal.

In the event, Mrs. Rand and her cook were able to come up with a meal which, though it won no encomiums from the colonel, did not draw his fire, either. Further mellowing their guest with a decanter of the finest port in the cellar, the squire then related the story of Pommy’s disgrace, and challenged his brother to confront his niece’s seducer and bring her home.

Somewhat to the squire’s surprise, the colonel rose at once from the table and asked if his brother had gotten the Earl’s direction. It developed that he regarded the threat to the family name even more strongly than Mrs. Rand did, and was ready to charge to the attack that very evening. Upon hearing this, the squire hastily adjourned to the drawing room, where his wife did not fail him. She was able to supply the street and number of the elegant residence on whose doorstep her infamous niece had been observed consorting with the dissolute nobleman. Beyond telling her to guard her tongue in front of their daughters, her husband had little more to say to her, but returned to the hall where the colonel was already donning his hat and short cape.

“You might as well bring the chit back here when you get her,” he offered glumly enough.

The colonel gave him a searing look but did not enlarge upon that silent comment. He had come to his brother’s house in his own curricle, with a sergeant up beside him. Squire Rand, enviously watching the smart equipage tool off down the road, had no need to wonder where the money for the natty turnout had come from.

Colonel Rand’s sergeant knew his London, and was able to direct the officer to the Earl’s Town house within a very short range of time. It was as well for the colonel that he was so quick, for the Earl’s house was blazing with lights, and His Lordship’s servants had rolled a red carpet quite across the flagstones and into the street. The colonel was of two minds whether to burst in upon the Earl when he was expecting guests, but his feeling for his little niece was stronger than his brother had given him credit for. He squared his shoulders and marched smartly up the steps under the imposing portico to the front door, upon which he rapped sharply with the bronze knocker. He had no difficulty in intimidating the footman who opened it, and at once demanded to see the Earl.

“His Lordship is preparing to receive guests,” said the footman apologetically.

“He had better receive me first, if he knows what’s good for him,” stated the colonel, carrying the battle to the enemy in rousing style. “I am Colonel Rand.”

The footman admitted defeat and called upon the butler to take care of a matter far beyond his touch. Tupper was not long in taking Colonel Rand’s measure and evaluating his temper, and ushered him quickly into Milord’s book room, where he served him with a small glass of fine brandy to sweeten the wait. This the officer refused with every evidence of revulsion. It was not long, however, before the Earl, looking arrogant and dangerous, strolled into the library.

“You—ah—demanded to see me, sir?”

“If you are the Earl of Austell, I did,” said the colonel.

 “Your name is Rand?”

“Colonel George Rand, Seventh Hussars,” said the officer, drawing himself up to his not inconsiderable height.

“You have come about Miss Melpomene, then.” The Earl took the wind from his sails, and then pursued his advantage by saying crisply, “My sister and I wondered when some member of Miss Rand’s family would demonstrate enough concern to inquire after her health and welfare.”

The colonel began to suspect that his stupid brother and the latter’s even more stupid wife had sent him on a wild-goose chase. Still, there was a good deal here that he did not understand, and the gallant colonel was not one to turn tail at the first rebuff. He replied stiffly, “I was not informed until this evening that my niece had left her home under your—ah—protection, nor that she was—ah—a member of your household, Milord.”

“She is not.” The Earl sensibly ignored the first charge, where he was vulnerable, and arrogantly denied the second, where he was on firm ground.

“Where is she, then?”

“She is residing in Portman Square with Lady Masterson, my brother’s widow.”

This piece of intelligence knocked the colonel back on his heels, but he rattled in again quickly. “And what is my niece doing in such an elegant establishment? Are you telling me she is a maidservant there? Do not seek to gull me, sir! It will not wash! I was informed that she was seen—ah—loitering on your doorstep today, wearing a most expensive and fashionable costume and behaving—ah—indiscreetly!”

“I wonder who can be your intelligencer, Colonel?” The Earl’s contempt was plain. “Miss Rand, who has been most callously treated by those whose duty it should have been to protect and nurture a defenseless orphan in their care, was thrown out of your brother’s house. Fortunately, my sister-in-law was in need of a cheerful, well-educated and well-bred companion, and offered Miss Rand the position. Since the child preferred that offer to wandering around in a storm, she accepted.”

Damn Charles and that archwife of his!
thought the soldier. Although his cheeks were suffused with deep color, and his voice grew louder as he began to fear his position was untenable, he stuck to his guns, and demanded, “How is it, Milord, that you are so well informed of all the details of Pommy’s plight?”

The Earl considered his purpling face with sardonic understanding. “I was at Highcliff Manor when she was thrown out,” he said quietly.

“Then you brought her up to London with you in your carriage?” snapped the colonel suspiciously, but his heart was not in it.

“After securing for Miss Rand a female companion to act as chaperone,” Lord Austell said, carrying the matter off with a high hand.

Colonel Rand knew when the battle was lost. He retreated gallantly, firing one defiant parting shot. “I shall naturally have to assure myself that my niece is safe and well. Where is she?”

“Naturally,” agreed the Earl, magnanimous in victory. “She is at Number Three Portman Square. If you drive there at once, you may see her before she goes out for the evening. She is to accompany Lady Masterson to a Musical Soirée.”