Laura Matthews (15 page)

His interference in the blackmailing she found understandable, though upsetting. Vanessa would not have liked to handle it herself, but she thought she should have. It was a great nuisance having all the obligations of a man laid on you, when you suffered from all the restrictions of a woman. Her upbringing had not prepared her to take charge of more than the household. Directing the servants, ordering the meals, planning entertainments—for all these she had received instruction from her mother. But no one had bothered to explain the more involved affairs of an estate—the expenses and income, the laborers and their cottages, the tenant farmers and the rotation of crops, the number of livestock which a field could support, the essential matter of drainage.

All these things she had abruptly come to deal with after Frederick’s death, when she saw that the estate was daily deteriorating under the old estate manager. No decision in her life had been more difficult than that to turn the man off, and to have to repeat that depressing duty twice more. Did men find such chores a burden to their minds and their hearts? Old Fletcher had regarded her so incredulously when she spoke to him that she had found herself tripping over her own tongue. She had worried about damaging his self-esteem, taking away his livelihood, and only by steeling herself with thoughts of her obligation to the children was she able to go through with the unhappy task.

Vanessa sighed and turned her gaze to the park beyond the terrace. The scent of newly mown grass wafted in on the slightest of breezes and she could hear the murmur of the gardeners’ voices further along the terrace where they tended the riot of summer blooms which she daily gathered to liven the various rooms of Cutsdean. The Morning Room was her favorite of the public rooms and she had insisted, with great effort, on keeping it uninfringed upon by the other members of her household. Why had she so easily allowed Alvescot to join her here? She had steadfastly ignored the murmurs of discontent over her arrangement which came from the others. After all, there were rooms enough at Cutsdean to supply the other residents with perfectly acceptable alternatives.

And she never skimped on the fires in cooler weather. If someone felt an urge to use the Library, even when there were fires in the Saloon and the Velvet Drawing Room, she never objected to another fire being laid. Sometimes, when she considered the expense of having fires in each of their bedrooms, and any public rooms to which their whimsy might take them, she felt exasperated to the point of outrage. One would think the lot of them came from luxurious households where no measure of economy had ever been taken.

It had not occurred to Vanessa, until Alvescot came, that perhaps she shouldn’t accept her parents’ decree on the “guests” without questioning it. Oh, she did feel a certain amount of obligation to Frederick’s relations, when she had so much and they so little. Except for Hortense. There was no way Vanessa could include her mother-in-law in the category of penurious relations. And now it had turned out that the captain, too, had resources of his own. But Mabel and her children had nothing, literally. No home, no income.

And they were doing nothing to better their position, unless you considered Edward’s blackmailing a step in the right direction. Mabel’s plot to encourage Alvescot for Louisa was patently doomed to failure, and in the meantime poor William Oldcastle was being further and further alienated from the woman who really
should
be his bride, after twelve years of courtship. Vanessa was inclined to believe that Oldcastle and Louisa were actually quite right for each other, everything taken into consideration.

With Captain Lawrence leaving, Vanessa took the opportunity to reassess her position. Decidedly, there was no need for Hortense to remain at Cutsdean. In spite of what the elder Fulbrooks said on the subject of kinship and charity and a vast number of other virtuous subjects, Hortense had a home of her own in Basingstoke and an income to more than manage it. Her continued presence at Cutsdean was entirely a matter of prestige. The old woman had presided here until Frederick’s marriage, and she would wallow in Cutsdean’s glow for the rest of her life if she were not prevented. Allowing Hortense to take advantage of her was not, Vanessa determined, a virtuous duty but a criminal mistake. She would have to go.

Pulling open a drawer of the delicate Pembroke desk, Vanessa drew out a sheet of paper and scratched a memo to herself:
Find out when lease on Basingstoke property expires.
Surely that was the first step to take, and she (not Alvescot!) would be the one to take it.

Then there were the Curtisses. They were a much trickier proposition. If she hadn’t promised the captain otherwise, Vanessa would have liked to tell Edward to pack his bags and get out. He had forfeited any claim on her generosity by his underhanded doings. But he would have to stay, at least for the time being.

The point to concentrate on was Louisa. If Louisa could be married off to William, it would remove at least three people from Cutsdean. Edward might or might not go, of his own accord, but Mabel would undoubtedly follow her daughter into Suffolk. And how deliciously far away Suffolk sounded right now! On her list, Vanessa wrote:
Get Louisa and William engaged.
She had no idea, as yet, how she was going to accomplish this, but she was determined to do it.

Captain Lawrence’s departure would mean that the Blue Velvet Bedroom would be vacant for Lord Alvescot to move into. Vanessa was sure he would appreciate the added space and wondered, briefly, if his interference had had anything to do with this goal. And holding hands with her! Vanessa felt a self-mocking grin twist her lips. The poor man was only trying to work his way into her good graces so she’d give him a better room!
That
she had no difficulty believing. Vanessa was willing to admit to herself that she liked the earl, liked him perhaps too well, but there was no denying he had a decidedly high concept of his own consequence. He was, of course, above her touch, a fact of which her parents would be willing enough to remind her, but there was no reason not to strive for his friendship. As co-trustees, they shared a large responsibility and if they could work together on it amicably, so much the better.

Vanessa shoved her short list back in the drawer and left the Morning Room in search of the housekeeper. Mrs. Howden’s office was toward the rear of the main floor, next to a door which led directly out to the stable drive. The door was seldom used by anyone but the servants and Vanessa was surprised to see it open to admit Edward. The curly beaver hat he had worn on leaving was a tattered wreck in his hand, and his clothes were dust-covered and torn in three places that she could see. A sure sign that Satin had thrown him at least once, she observed, feeling a certain satisfaction in the uncharitable thought.

At sight of her, he brushed ineffectually at his buckskins, with no worthwhile result save the cloud of dust that emerged. His blond hair was dampened with perspiration and looked gritty with dirt. He was obviously annoyed to have her see him in this condition, and made to pass her as though she didn’t exist.

“I want a word with you, Edward,” she said.

“When I’ve changed,” he growled.

“No, now.” She opened the door to the plate room on the opposite site of the hall and waved him into it. For a moment he looked as though he would refuse, but the uncompromising light in her eyes decided him to humor her.

The plate room was long and narrow, consisting entirely of walls full of cupboards and a stool on which a footman could sit to polish silver or wipe china. Vanessa didn’t bother to seat herself on the stool, but stood in the dim light grimly regarding Edward, who had his back turned toward her.

“What has come to light about you today I find deeply disturbing,” Vanessa began. “If I were to act entirely on my own conscience, I would ask you to leave Cutsdean immediately.”

Edward continued to keep his back to her, muttering, “What the devil are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your extortion of money from Captain Lawrence.”

He swung around to face her. “What’s the old hypocrite been telling you? Not that he was a coward in battle, I daresay,” he sneered.

Vanessa eyed him coldly. “The
only
way you will remain at Cutsdean is if you never mention that matter again. One word of it to anyone, and you will leave here permanently, with not a penny from me. Remember that, Edward, because I mean it. I have enough to deal with without your slimy machinations. And be warned that I shall in future keep a wary eye out for any dishonest activity on your part. You would do well to look about you for some opportunity of honorable employment, because I don’t intend to support you forever now this circumstance has come to light.”

Edward was not convinced as yet that he couldn’t bluff his way out of this particular hole. “Would you take that old curmudgeon’s word against mine?”

“Yes,” she said flatly, “but I’m not taking his word, Edward. Lord Alvescot overheard you in the spinney the first night he was here. Today he searched your room and found Captain Lawrence’s diary.”

“He searched my room!” A black scowl descended on Edward’s face and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “How dare he?”

“Lord Alvescot does not approve of blackmail any more than I do. He didn’t read the diary, nor did I. Captain Lawrence will be leaving for a trip to Somerset immediately, and if you value ‘your room’ here, you won’t mention a word about any of this. That’s all I have to say to you, Edward.”

Vanessa opened the door behind her and left before Edward could attempt any justification of his actions. Just being in the same room with him made her flesh crawl. But by the time she reached her bedchamber, her righteous indignation had given way to a sort of nervous shuddering. Vanessa had found, on more than one previous occasion, that she felt a sort of repulsion with herself when she looked back on incidents of this nature. From whence did this hardness, this coldness come that she displayed? Her reaction to it was a case of jangled nerves that took several hours to control. And yet, chastising Edward was something she had to do, and in no mealy-mouthed way that would let him think he could get away with the same sort of misbehavior again.

Each time, though, she wondered what had happened to the sweet girl Frederick had married, the dutiful daughter her parents had raised. Was she to become a mean, vindictive creature like Hortense? A rude, self-centered woman such as Mabel? The thought terrified her, and she went to the children, where she could be loving and kind, just as soon as her hands had stopped shaking.

* * * *

Over the next few days, Alvescot spent as much time with Vanessa as he reasonably could, riding out with her, talking in the evenings, sharing anecdotes from his childhood, welcoming any revelations she made about herself. His attachment to her grew, and with it his determination to see that she obtained some sort of peace at Cutsdean. He would be less heavy-handed in his approach in the future, he vowed, but he
would
do something about the crowd that remained at Cutsdean. Captain Lawrence left (and Alvescot got his bedroom), but Hortense and the Curtisses remained, and he wanted to see them removed.

Apparently Vanessa had spoken with Edward, but Alvescot could see no lessening of the young man’s jaunty obliviousness to the censure. The earl’s only consolation here was learning that Edward had returned from his ride on Satin looking totally disheveled. Edward never requested the loan of a horse from him again, and with Captain Lawrence taking his horse, and Vanessa’s edict still in effect, Edward had taken to hiring a dilapidated bay from a neighboring farmer and disappearing for long stretches of time.

Despite Alvescot’s nighttime encounter with Louisa, she was totally unembarrassed with him, only cringing at her mother’s strictures to ignore William Oldcastle. Alvescot did what he could to promote a romance between them, but Mabel was working equally hard to destroy it, and Louisa’s spirits were obviously flagging.

Since Alvescot had not spent any time in Basingstoke, he allowed Mabel to push him into taking Louisa one morning in his curricle. The earl considered this a diversionary tactic, a chance to get Louisa’s mind off her problems. He also hoped she would help him choose gifts for his godchildren, something which had not occurred to him before coming to Cutsdean. He was, almost secretly, spending a good deal of time with the children, working for their trust and affection. It wouldn’t hurt to cement their growing friendship with a few presents, he assured himself.

After being overcast for two days, the weather had cleared and the drive promised to be accompanied with brilliant skies and a warm sun. Louisa had tied her bonnet ribbons securely under her chin before allowing the earl to hand her into the sporting vehicle. “I’ll remember your thread, Vanessa,” she promised solemnly.

Vanessa, who was at the stables to go riding with John, smiled and admonished Alvescot to drive carefully.

“I will,” he assured her. “If our errands take longer than expected, we may have something to eat at the inn, so don’t await luncheon for us,” he said as his groom hopped up behind and he urged his pair forward.

His tone was light, but Louisa glanced up at him from under the brim of her bonnet, trying to assess the mysterious tension she sensed between the earl and Vanessa. Her uncanny emotional antennae were vibrating with it, and she wondered at his brooding expression as they moved off down the drive.

“Vanessa is a very good person, you know,” she informed him
.
“She has a lot of responsibilities, what with the children and the estate. You’re not angry with her, are you?”

Surprised, Alvescot transferred his attention from his pair. “Angry? Not at all. I quite admire the way she’s taken charge. Why should you think I was angry with her?”

“I don’t know. It was just a feeling,” Louisa admitted. “Not anger, necessarily. Just some . . . oh, I don’t know, some emotion sort of echoing between you. As often as not,” she said with a sigh, “that’s anger—in my family, at least. Though this didn’t feel quite like that.”