Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 03] (43 page)

Daintry bit her lip.

“What is it?” the old lady demanded. “You look like a cat that’s been at the cream. What mischief have you been brewing?”

“It was not my brewing, ma’am, and was mischief only because it went awry, but I confess, your sleep was not entirely natural. When you said you were thirsty, Penthorpe gave you a cup of punch that Deverill had intended for him to drink in hopes of keeping him from getting into an altercation with Geoffrey.”

Lady Ophelia stared at her, then burst suddenly into a peal of laughter. “What was in it?” she demanded when she could speak. “I tell you, I’ve never slept so soundly.”

“It was a mixture Dr. Kingston had given Deverill for his headaches,” Daintry told her. “I do not know what was in it.”

“Well, we must find out, for I shall not go to London next year without some such thing by me, I can tell you. Miraculous, that’s what it was, absolutely miraculous.”

Relieved that she was amused and not angry, Daintry went on to tell her about the other events of the previous night, and if the tale distressed the formidable lady, she nonetheless tended to agree with Deverill that Geoffrey would not really harm Susan. “For you may depend upon it, my dear, that he knows folks will forgive his flying into the boughs when he jumped to the notion that Penthorpe was trifling with her, for that’s understandable, but once people begin to believe he mistreats her, it will be quite another matter. And if he does not understand that, you may be certain that his precious Lady Catherine does.”

“But Geoffrey always thinks he will be forgiven whatever he does, ma’am. I have frequently observed that.”

“Well, of course, he does, my dear. Gentlemen generally do have that belief, and quite naturally, considering the way this world is ordered to suit them. After all, as angry as you may become over the way he mistreats Susan, he knows perfectly well that you are obliged to be civil to him when you meet, for if you are not, it is you who will be blamed for your poor manners, not he for having provoked them. In this life, manners are the glue that holds everything together, particularly for females.” She smiled wryly, adding, “When a man—even one like Geoffrey—flies into a passion with his wife, the world wonders what she did to annoy him. When a wife does the same thing, the world believes she needs to be controlled, even disciplined, if only to protect her against the consequences of such distempered freakishness.”

Daintry thought about that and decided that if she had to marry, it was better that she was marrying a man like Penthorpe, who would not attempt to mold her into a submissive wife, and not one like Deverill, who would; and, if she did not find these thoughts particularly cheering, at least they occupied her idle moments until they halted for the evening in Bagshot.

The journey back to Cornwall was accomplished more quickly than the journey to London had been, but it was tiring, and she was glad when the carriage finally rolled through the gates of Tuscombe Park. As they drew to a halt before the front entrance, she looked out the window expectantly, but although they had sent word ahead to warn of their arrival, there was not the least sign of a child on the watch at window or door. They had no sooner passed into the entrance hall, however, than the reason was made known to them, for Miss Parish hurried down the stairs to meet them, looking perfectly distracted.

Waiting only until she had exchanged greetings with them all, she said uneasily, “I am so sorry Miss Charlotte is not here to greet you, but indeed, no one said she ought not to go, and I did not quite like to forbid her to do so when you had not.”

“Not here,” Lady St. Merryn exclaimed, clasping hands at her breast. “Why, whatever can you mean?”

At the same time, Charles said, “What the devil are you talking about, Parish? Where is my daughter?”

“Oh, sir, she has ridden to Seacourt Head to visit her cousin. Indeed, she has done so several times whilst you were in London. I could see no harm, sir. I do hope you are not vexed.”

Charles turned instantly to Daintry. “Did you tell Charley she could ride that distance on her own?”

“I did not. In fact—” She broke off, not wanting to make matters worse than they were.

Charles glared at her. “In fact you told her she was not to do any such thing. Is that right?”

Reluctantly she nodded. “She asked me several times, but I told her it was too far for her to ride alone. She is perfectly capable though, Charles, and I am sure she took her groom.”

Miss Parish said instantly, “Oh, yes, my lady, she did indeed, and has done every time, but perhaps I ought to confess that I did tell her this morning, she ought rather to attend to her lessons. I am afraid she was a trifle impertinent, saying that you would be home soon, and it might be her last chance.”

“Well, if that don’t beat all,” Charles said. “What sort of a governess allows a child to be impudent to her? Not that it ain’t probably your doing, Daintry, if we but knew it. You were a saucy piece yourself, as I recall the matter.”

“Perhaps I was, Charles,” she retorted, “but if Charley is getting out of hand, you have only yourself and Davina to blame. The pair of you have scarcely paid her any heed at all.”

“Well, that is about to change,” her brother said austerely. He turned to the butler, entering the house behind them, and snapped, “When my daughter returns, send her directly to me.”

Although Daintry was surprised by this change in her brother’s demeanor, she could not be displeased, for she firmly believed that Charley deserved more attention from both her parents. It was dinnertime before the child appeared, the meal being served at five now that it was no longer necessary to keep town hours, and she came running in just as the family was about to sit down. Still wearing her riding habit, she had cast off her hat, and her curls were windblown and tangled.

Lady St. Merryn said, “Good gracious, Charlotte, you look as if you’ve been dragged backward through a bush! Go and tidy yourself at once.”

“I beg your pardon, Grandmama; I will,” Charley said, adding happily, “When I heard that Aunt Susan and Uncle Geoffrey had got home, I hoped all of you might be coming soon, too, but no one told me you would come today! What did you bring me?”

Sternly, Charles said, “There will be no presents today, my girl. You go straight up to bed, and don’t give me any backchat about missing your dinner or anything else, for you are nearer right now to getting a spanking than you have ever been in your life.”

Cousin Ethelinda gasped, and Charley’s mouth fell open as she stared at her father in shock. “But—”

“Go,” Charles commanded, pointing toward the door.

Charley glanced at Daintry, but there was no help to be had from that quarter, since Daintry was not pleased with her either, and when Charles suddenly scraped his chair back and looked about to get up, the child fled without another word.

As Charles scooted his chair in again, he cast a glance at his father, but St. Merryn was serving himself from a dish the footman held and paid him no heed. Shifting his gaze past Daintry and the others to Lady Ophelia, Charles said grimly, “I hope none of you means to tell me I was too harsh with the brat.”

Neither Lady St. Merryn nor Cousin Ethelinda said a word, but Lady Ophelia, after refusing a dish of green peas and onions, said, “On the contrary, dear boy, I was too much astonished to hear you scold the child to consider whether you were too harsh, but I cannot think it will do her anything but the greatest good, you know. I will have some of that ham, please, Jago.”

Davina said suddenly and for no apparent reason, “Charles and I had quite a long talk on the way home, you know.”

St. Merryn said, around a mouthful of food, “Should think you must have, cooped up as you were for more than a week’s time. God knows, Letty and Ethelinda kept up a steady stream of chatter whenever I had to ride with them for a spell.”

Davina was looking hard at Charles, who seemed oblivious, and she said, “Charles has made a decision, haven’t you, dear?”

“What’s that you say?” He encountered a minatory look from her and said hastily, “Oh, yes, of course. Daresay now’s as good a time as any.” He looked at his father again. “I… that is, Davina and I have decided to take a house in Plymouth this summer, sir. It will be just the thing for us, I daresay.”

“Damned expensive is what it will be,” St. Merryn growled.

“Well, if you do not like it, sir …”

Davina said quickly, “It will not be so dear as all that, Papa St. Merryn, for I mean to take good care that it is not, but it will do Charles and me—and Charlotte, too, of course—good to … spend some time … that is …”

Daintry cut in swiftly before Davina faltered altogether, saying, “How wonderful for them, Papa! Just think how much Charley will enjoy living right by the sea for a few months, and they will be much nearer home than if they were to go to Brighton again. It ought to be much less expensive than that, certainly.”

“Upon my soul, you may be right,” St. Merryn said after a brief moment’s consideration.

Davina cast Daintry a look of gratitude, and although St. Merryn grumbled a little more, his heart clearly was not in it, and when Davina had the happy notion to ask for his advice about how they might be sure to find just the right house, he entered into the conversation with much more enthusiasm.

Daintry went upstairs as soon as the gentlemen had been left to enjoy their port, for she wanted to talk to Charley before the child went to sleep. She was not surprised to find her still wide awake and suspected, in fact, that she had leapt beneath the covers the moment she heard her aunt’s hand on the door handle.

Turning up the wick of the lamp on a nearby table until a soft golden glow lit the room, Daintry moved to stand beside the low cot before saying quietly, “I’m a bit disappointed in you.”

Charley sat up and shoved a pillow behind herself, saying without remorse, “I was afraid you would be, but I had to go, for Melissa was lonely, and so was I. Right after you left, I got Teddy to take her a letter, and she sent one back with his cousin Todd, who works at Seacourt Head, but letters were not enough, so one day I just rode over. And then I did it again and again. Teddy always went with me though, so there was no danger.”

Daintry, remembering the day she and Lady Ophelia had been attacked in the coach, as well as the many other incidents caused by disgruntled miners, repressed a shudder at the idea of Charley riding the cliff path alone, but remembering, too, her own childhood and the freedom she had cherished, she could not scold too vehemently. Instead, she said only, “You must not do it again, darling. Was Melissa happy to see her parents come home?”

Charley grimaced. “I don’t know, for I never got to see her. I waited and waited at our place, for you might as well know, we decided from the outset that it would be better if Uncle Geoffrey never discovered that I was riding over to meet her, so Melissa always gave some excuse or other to her governess when we were actually riding on the shingle or exploring the smugglers’ caves.” She smiled. “We still have never seen one—a smuggler, that is—and I daresay we never will.”

“But Melissa did not come to meet you today.”

“No, and I waited and waited, and so finally I rode over to Seacourt. Before I got near enough to be seen myself, I saw that someone had arrived, for there were carriages in the drive and servants bustling about. I made Teddy go ask Todd what was coming to pass, and he came back and said they were home.” She glowered at Daintry from under her brows. “Even Lady Catherine was there. Melissa does not like her. Why did she come back?”

“I must suppose she was invited to do so, darling,” Daintry said, but her heart sank to hear it, and she hoped Geoffrey would remember Lady Ophelia’s warnings and behave himself. “Perhaps we can invite Melissa to come visit us for a week or two.”

“Uncle Geoffrey said before that he will not let her.”

Remembering that he had said much the same thing in London, Daintry could think of no better reply than, “Well, maybe he will change his mind. At all events, I’ve learned some good news that will surprise you. Your mama and papa have decided to take a house in Plymouth for the summer and not go to Brighton at all this year. That ought to give you something nice to think about. But mind now, no more rides to Seacourt Head.”

“I won’t,” Charley said with a sigh as she slid down in the bed and let Daintry tuck her in. “Good night, Aunt Daintry.”

“Good night, darling.” Daintry kissed her and turned down the lamp, pausing at the door to add, “Pleasant dreams.”

“You, too,” Charley murmured.

But, alone in her own bedchamber, Daintry found that sleep eluded her. It was plain that Charles and Davina looked forward to having a house of their own, even just for the summer. She approved of the change the decision had already wrought in her brother, and she had seen that Davina meant to encourage him to become even more decisive. Since that could mean only that Charles would become more and more the master of his household, when Daintry realized that she envied them, she could only wonder why on earth she should.

More than once on the journey home, St. Merryn had declared that the arrangements for her wedding must be put in hand the moment they returned. He was clearly determined to get her married before anything could intervene, and when she had once casually suggested that there could be no great need for such haste, he had nearly exploded.

There seemed to be no point in waiting, anyway, she thought now, since nothing could come of delay. Penthorpe had insisted that he wanted to marry her, and he was kind and funny. He would not be a difficult husband either, which was more than one could say for most males, and if her feelings tended to indicate a tenderness for larger, more passionate men, that was simply an unfortunate inconvenience, not only because she no longer had the luxury of snapping her fingers at a betrothal, but because she was not by any means convinced that marriage to anyone else would prove more tolerable. Nonetheless, when she tried to imagine herself sitting across the breakfast table from Penthorpe, it was always Deverill’s image she saw in his place.