Lord Darlington's Darling (23 page)

Abby remained at home for the rest of the day. She
went to her bedroom well before tea, feigning sleep
when her maid came upstairs to tell her of Lady Dar
lington’s arrival. Her courage had completely deserted
her. She had abandoned her original inclination
to confide Lady Bethany’s troubles to either Lord Darling
ton or the dowager.

Indeed, Lord Darlington’s repressed fury had caused her to suffer a severe check. In that moment when Lord Darlington had held her by the arms so tightly and spoken to her so, she had imagined that blazing anger unleashed. Her small measure of resolution had quailed inside of her.

Abby kept her breathing deep
and regular, tensely waiting for the maid to go away.
The woman finally did so, shutting the door quietly
behind her, Abby turned her face into her pillow and
cried, despising herself and tortured by her own help
lessness to do anything on Lady Bethany’s behalf.

When it came time to depart for the evening’s
round of entertainments, Abby pleaded the headache.
“I—I really should like to stay in this evening.”

Mrs. Crocker regarded her sister’s wan face with
concern and recommended that she go to bed early.
“You will feel more the thing in the morning, I am
persuaded.”

Abby managed a smile. “I hope so.” She was glad
to stay in her room, where she did not have to pretend
to everyone that everything was all right. Anxiety over
Lady Bethany’s plight was a nagging thing which she couldn’t
shake off.

As for herself and her own troubled course
in love, her heart felt bruised beyond repair.

Abby could not sit still. When she tried to read, the
words were just a jumble of nonsense. She got up to
pace again around the bedroom. She castigated herself
for not confessing to Lord Darlington, yet when she
recalled his expression and the harsh tones of his
voice, she shuddered. She could not have done it. A
suppressed violence had blazed in his eyes and in his very stance. She had not needed the implicit threat he
had made toward Lord Fielding to persuade her of
his absolute sincerity. At last she had understood
Lady Bethany’s fear to confide in her brother. Lady Bethany had
not been exaggerating, after all, when she had claimed
Lord Darlington was capable of killing Mr. Farnham.

Abby shuddered again, covering her face with her hands. She had almost unleashed that murderous rage
by telling him of Lady Bethany’s wretched plight. What
might have come of it she did not know, but she was
glad she had not told him. No good purpose would
have been served if the marquess killed Mr. Farn
ham and was then forced to flee the country for
his own life. Lady Darlington and Lady Bethany would have
been left to face the resulting scandal. It would have
been devastating to them.

As for herself, what did it matter that she had lost
all chance at happiness? A yawning chasm of duplicity lay
between her and Lord Darlington, and she
did not know how to cross it. She had thought she
could confide in Lord Darlington, but confession seemed
impossible under the circumstances, especially in light of her
new understanding of his character.

Abby wondered whether she was brave enough to
tell everything about the sordid mess, and her own contemptible involvement, to her own relations
. She desperately wished
to ask someone for their advice. She longed to give over responsibility for Lady Bethany’s succor to someone else. In only a few short minutes, she decided she wasn’t brave enough to go to any one of those whose judgment she
trusted better than her own with
such an impossible story. As for August, even if he
had returned from the country, she could not possibly
embroil him. He was scarcely more than a boy, and he
had been enamored of Lady Bethany at one time, besides.

In addition, Abby shrank instinctively from reveal
ing intimacies told to her in confidence to anyone
without Lady Bethany’s express permission. If Lady Bethany did
not want her mother and brother to know what had
befallen her, certainly she would not want the matter
discussed by mere acquaintances.

Eventually, Abby did go to bed. However, a bad night’s sleep did not bring her any comfort. She
rose feeling exhausted, her worries intact. The morn
ing mail brought a hurried note from Lady Bethany.
Abby opened it with trembling fingers, dreading what
it might contain. She was relieved when the note con
tained nothing about the elopement, but was instead
Lady Bethany’s response to her own note, penned while
waiting for Lord Darlington. Her friend demanded
that Abby meet her that same morning at a particular
location in the park.

Abby made some excuse to her sister and the others
and had the carriage brought around. The morning
was gray with a fine misting rain, which exactly suited
her low mood. In a few tense minutes her destination
was reached. As the carriage slowed, she looked out
the window and saw that the Darlington carriage was
already there.

Abby got out immediately and walked over to meet the lone feminine figure standing at the
edge of the flowered path. “Bethany, I came as soon
as I could,” she said breathlessly.

There was tension in Lady Bethany’s expression as she
turned. She paid no heed to Abby’s greeting, but at
once suggested that they walk a little ways down the path. When they were out of earshot of the coachmen,
Lady Bethany exclaimed, “Abby, what were you about to
come to the town house yesterday? When I had your
note, I nearly swooned away! How could you leave a
note about . . . Where anyone might have picked it
up, too!”

Abby shook her head. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, I
know that. I realized it as soon as I was admitted by
your butler. But I thought it would be less odd if I
were to leave a note as an excuse for calling. And
then what was in such possession of my mind just
came flowing onto the paper!” She stopped and
turned fully to her friend. “Bethany, pray don’t do it!
I beg you to reconsider! There must be another way,
I am sure of it.”

Lady Bethany shook her head quickly, unhappily. “I have
thought and thought, but there isn’t. Richard threatens to expose me if I do not keep my word and meet him.
He cares nothing for the scandal, he says!”

“What a monster!” exclaimed Abby with impassioned revulsion.
As Lady Bethany flinched, she said more moderately, “I
cannot believe he loves you as he says he does.”

“No, I have already come to that melancholy con
clusion,” said Lady Bethany with a pitiful smile. Tears swam
in her eyes, and she shook her head again. “I am
neatly trapped, Abby. I dare not flout Richard, or he will make it his business to ruin my reputation with what he can tell about me—us. It would be the death
of Mama, and as for Sylvan—” Her voice became suspended.

Abby put an arm around Lady Bethany’s waist and
hugged her. Her interview with marquess rose compellingly in her mind. “Yes, Sylvan. I completely
understand.”

They were silent for several minutes, each occupied
with their unhappy reflections. The air was clammy and the mist was beginning to grow heavier. As one
and without consultation, the two women turned and
started slowly back toward the waiting carriages.

Abby kept telling herself that she must say some
thing. She had to think of something that would stop
Lady Bethany from making what she felt unequivocally to
be the mistake of her life. “Isn’t there anyone you can
go to and confide in?” she asked. “A relation or a fam
ily friend who could help you?”

“There is no one. All of my grandparents are deceased, as is my godmother. My eldest sister is mar
ried and the other is staying with our aunt. I did think
that I might ask Mama to take me to visit one of
them. But it would not do,” said Lady Bethany, shaking her
head in misery. “I could not bury myself forever in
the country. Besides, Richard has made it clear
he will not wait long to have me.”

The bald statement was certainly depressing. Abby
absorbed it unwillingly. Then she voiced what she had
not been able to puzzle out. “If Mr. Farnham does
not love you, as you have guessed, why is he so set to
wed you? Surely he does not want an unwilling wife!”

“I have been over it a hundred times, Abby,” said
Lady Bethany quietly. With a pitiful attempt at a smile, she said, “It seems Richard is in financial difficulties. Syl
van once told me that he is a gazetted fortune hunter.
I did not believe him, of course! Richard is accepted
everywhere, everywhere except into the company of heiresses. Now his gaming and his lavish habits of pleasure have run him completely aground. I have put it together from bits and pieces I have heard over the
past months, you see. But I was too stupid to believe it.”

“But how can you help with his—” Abby did not
complete her query, recognizing almost too late how
it would sound.

However, Lady Bethany did not fail to misunderstand her.
She gave a laugh that ended in a sob. “My godmother
died a year ago. She left me a very nice portion. I am not an heiress, of course, but the next best thing to someone like Richard Farnham!”

“Oh, my dear,” said Abby helplessly.

They were nearing the Darlington carriage.
Lady Bethany suddenly seized Abby’s arm. “You will not
betray me, Abby? You will not tell anyone?”

“Bethany, how can you extract such a promise from
me?” protested Abby. “I care too deeply about you to let you go tamely to such a fate!”

“To the devil, do you mean?” asked Lady Bethany with
a wild laugh. She controlled her rising hysteria with an effort. “Abby, I know that you saw Sylvan when
you left your note for me.”

Abby swept a quick glance at her friend’s tense,
white face.

“You and Sylvan are friends, perhaps more than
friends,” said Lady Bethany quickly. “You must promise
me, Abby! You will not betray me to anyone, espe
cially to Sylvan!”

Abby shook her head, unwilling to pledge her word
of honor. Though she could not see her way to confiding in anyone, she instinctively recoiled from binding herself by such a vow. “No! Do not require it of me!”

Lady Bethany’s fingers bit into her arm. Her panting
voice was slightly shrill. “Abby, promise me!”

Reluctantly, with utmost misgivings, Abby slowly
nodded. It tore her apart to see her friend’s acute distress. “I give you my word, Lady Bethany.”

“Thank you!” Lady Bethany let go of Abby’s arm. A sob broke from her. “Now I must go!”

Abby threw her own arms around her friend. Tears
mingled with rain ran down her face. “My dearest
friend! How much I wish I could help you!”

“You have, Abby! I cannot tell you how much.”
said Lady Bethany with a break in her voice.

The two clung together for an instant longer, then
broke apart.

“You will send me word?” demanded Abby. “You
will tell me when it is to be so that I can say good
bye?”

It was Lady Bethany’s turn for reluctance, but she capitu
lated with a nod. “Yes, I shall.”

A
bby left her rendezvous with Lady Bethany with the
small consolation that there must still be time be
fore her friend’s elopement was to take place. Other
wise Lady Bethany would not have agreed to send a
message to her when the date arrived. If there was
one thing Abby was certain about, it was that Lady Bethany
would not lie to her about such a thing.

She did not know what could be done, but until the
elopement actually took place, there was still hope.
Abby hoped and prayed for divine intervention, for
she could not perceive any other avenue of escape
for Lady Bethany.

If she could not persuade Lady Bethany to go to Lady
Darlington or Lord Darlington, Abby wondered if
there was not some appeal that could be made to Mr.
Farnham. Her sense of logic boggled at the unlikely
possibility, for Mr. Farnham had already proven him
self devoid of chivalric instincts. His character was too
base to respond to any appeal for mercy and compassion, she felt.

However, she recalled how Mr. Farnham had reacted on the occasion he given the music to her and she had told him that Lord Darlington knew of his and Lady Bethany’s clandestine entanglement. Mr. Farnham had been angered, perhaps even a little afraid. Well, of course he had been! Otherwise, he would surely not have pressed the conclusion in so vile a fashion. Abby had a shrewd notion that Mr. Farnham’s financial difficulties must have come to a head. He’d had to make sure of Lady Bethany before she was brought to heel by the marquess.

She turned that over and over in her mind, but did not perceive how she might use it.

Abby spent that day and the next going through
the motions. She smiled and chatted and danced and
socialized, until she felt she must scream with vexa
tion. All of those smiling, pleasure-seeking personages,
and not one could she trust with Lady Bethany’s secret.

As for Lord Darlington, he was as attentive as ever but Abby felt a discomfort in his presence which she had never before. Her own guilty conscience persuaded her that in his questioning gaze and his somber expression, she was regarded with disapproval and suspicion. The pleasure of basking in his favor seemed to be at an end, for she could not believe that he still regarded her with affection. The marquess had not again kissed her or reiterated those charming things he had once said to her. It never occurred to her that her own nervous manner and small signs of withdrawal might have set him at a distance.

Lord Fielding came to call. When Abby was informed, she responded
with hardly any feeling. Her mind was so taken up
with her present troubles that her former anxiety
about Lord Fielding had faded.

She received him in a cool, friendly fashion and nod
ded to her sister’s arch suggestion that Lord Fielding be
given a short, private audience. As Abby looked at Lord Fielding, she wondered quite dispassionately if
it would be so very bad to be married to him. He was
handsome in a classical sense, only the too close set
ting of his eyes marring an otherwise good face. He
dressed with taste, if not with flair, his superfine coat
well tailored, his pantaloons the perfect biscuit color,
his Hessians shiny with polish. He was overly tall, but
that could be overlooked. As for his conversation, it
was always lengthy and held a note of self-importance,
but she supposed she could become immured to that.
In short, Abby found little to recommend Lord Fiel
ding, but nothing really to give her repugnance. The biggest point in his favor was that he had been faithful
in his pursuit of her. Abby felt that must surely mean
he was sincerely attached to her and would do his best
to make her comfortable.

Since Lord Fielding was at that moment expounding upon those same lines, Abby listened with polite attentiveness.

“I assure you, Miss Fairchilde, you will have no
cares once you accept my suit. 1 shall see to your every
comfort and need. I will be your champion and your
buffer in a harsh world,” said Lord Fielding, puffing out his chest.

Abby’s interest was aroused. She asked suddenly,
“Tell me, Lord Fielding, what would you do if a young
lady with whom you were acquainted found herself in a compromising position?”

Lord Fielding was taken aback. His expression con
fused, he faltered, “I fail to understand you, Miss Fairchilde.”

Warming to her theme, Abby said, “If you knew that
a young lady was contemplating the step of elopement
and there was no family member to advise her against
it, what would you do?”

She looked at him expectantly,
hardly daring to hope. Perhaps Lord Fielding, who was
obviously
a practical gentleman, would come up
with some particle of advice with which she could
help Lady Bethany.

Lord Fielding stared at her for several long mo
ments. At last he shook his head. He said heavily, “I
trust we are hypothetically speaking, Miss Fairchilde,
for I should not like to think anyone of our acquain
tance was contemplating such a drastic step as elope
ment. Such a course of action would be fatal.”

“Of course it would be fatal. We are in complete
agreement,” said Abby, skating over the rest of his statement. “But what would you do to save the young
lady from herself, so to speak?”

Again, Lord Fielding regarded her in an unblinking
manner. With a gathering frown on his face, he said,
“I perceive that you are not speaking hypothetically,
Miss Fairchilde. That you, in fact, know some young
female who is so heedless of her reputation that she
must thrust herself and her family into ignominious scan
dal.”

He took her hands into his clasp. “Miss Fairchilde,
I most earnestly entreat you to have nothing more to do
with this young woman. It can lead only to scandal. You will not wish to be a part of it, I am persuaded.”

“Then, you advise me to do nothing?” asked Abby,
unaccountably and sharply disappointed.

As she looked
at him, she realized her foolishness. She shouldn’t have
depended upon Lord Fielding to come up with an an
swer, of course. She saw now it had been an idiotic
hope from the start.

“More than that, Miss Fairchilde,” said Lord Fielding
firmly. “I advise you to wash your hands of the affair,
at once. You must withdraw from this dangerous
acquaintance.”

Abby regarded her faithful suitor in gathering dismay
and a singular horror. She had actually been entertaining
thoughts of accepting the gentleman’s suit, all because
she had lost what she felt to be her only true chance
of happiness with Lord Darlington.

Now she was stunned by the revelation that her own lack of resolution was amply reflected in Lord Fielding’s character.

She realized she could not ally herself with a man who
did not have the backbone to stand up for what was
right. Such a marriage would be doomed from the
very beginning.

Abby disengaged her hands from Lord Fielding’s
grasp and stood up. Facing him with a calm borne of
unalterable decision, she said civilly, “My lord, this
will be the last time I receive you alone. I have made
up my mind irrevocably. I shall not wed you, now
or ever.”

Lord Fielding had stood up, too. He was staring
down at her with astonishment. “Miss Fairchilde!”

Abby threw up her hand. “Pray do not, my lord.
Now you must excuse me, for I have something of
importance I must attend and which I have put off
too long.” She swept to the door and left the draw
ing room.

Filled with purpose and resolution, Abby went into
the library and began composing a note. It was swiftly
written. She addressed it and pulled the bell for a
servant. She waited impatiently, pacing a little, not
wanting to dwell on the consequences of what she was
doing. When a footman entered, she asked that the
note be taken around at once.

The footman glanced
down at the address on the note, and his impassive
expression cracked slightly with surprise.

“Have you a problem with my instructions?” asked
Abby in an imperious manner.

The footman drew himself up. “No, miss. I shall see
to the delivery myself.”

“Pray wait for a reply,” said Abby quickly.

The footman nodded his understanding, his face
wooden. He withdrew from the library, the note in
his hand.

Abby twisted her hands together, beginning to
shake inside. The die was truly cast now. It was but
to wait to see if Mr. Farnham would take the gambit.
The less she thought about what she had done, the
better it would be. She might lose her nerve otherwise.

Abby exited the library and started toward the front
stairs. She assumed Lord Fielding had left the town
house, so she had no fears of meeting him in the front
entryway. However, she did not reckon on her sister.

Mrs. Crocker appeared in the doorway of the drawing room. Her face was set in shocked lines. “Abby!
Whatever have you done? Lord Fielding has just left,
considerably discomposed. Pray come in here and tell
me what you said to him.”

“I am sorry, Melissa, but I do not care to discuss
the matter with you just now,” said Abby. She contin
ued up the stairs, her skirt gathered up in one hand
so that she would not trip in her swift passage.

Mrs. Crocker walked quickly to the bottom of the
stairs, looking up after her. She spoke sharply. “Abby!
Come down this instant! I wish to talk to you!”

Abby paid no attention but ran up faster.

From his study, Mr. Crocker heard his wife’s furious
demand and came into the entryway. ‘‘Here, what’s
this?”

Mrs. Crocker turned to him at once. “Peter! Abby
has sent Lord Fielding away. We must do something!
Make her come down at once!”

Mr. Crocker threw a glance upward and caught a
glimpse of his sister-in-law’s set face as she rounded
the landing. “No, let her go, Melissa. We shall talk later.”

“But, Peter—!”
Mr. Crocker drew his wife inexorably away, low
ering his voice as he murmured something to her.

Abby had overheard it all, and she was immeasur
ably grateful to her brother-in-law. There was nothing
she desired less than a strained tête-à-tête with her
sister. There were things she must do and she needed
time to make her plans.

It seemed only a few minutes before the maid
brought up a sealed missive for her. Only her name
was scrawled on the front, with no indication of whom
it was from, but Abby had no doubts. She waited until
the maid had left her before she slit open the wax and
unfolded the sheet. Her hands were trembling, and
she made an effort to hold them still. She swiftly pe
rused the note. Just as she had thought, it was from Mr. Farnham, and his reply was precisely what she had hoped it would be.

With foreboding and a sinking heart, Abby con
signed the note to the flames of the fire in her bedroom. Watching the paper blacken and shrivel before
it burst into flame, she shuddered. She hoped she had enough resolution to carry through with her desperate plan—which she did.

Pleading the headache again, she managed to remain at home that evening while her brother-in-law
and sister went to a dinner party without her. She
went upstairs to say an affectionate good night to her
mother and aunt, making certain to tell them that she meant to retire early to bed. Abby clung to her mother
for an instant longer than usual, but then broke away
so as not to give cause for suspicion.

Returning to her own room, Abby went quickly to
work. She had already given her maid the night off. I
t was the work of just moments to pack a valise
with a few necessities, for she did not know how long
she would be gone.