Authors: Highland Rivalry
“Like to apologize for Livvy,” his visitor said after making his excuses for disturbing his host. “I am certain we have put you out. Tried to tell Livvy it was not the thing to arrive here unannounced, but when m’sister gets the bit between her teeth there’s no stopping her,” he finished dismally.
“Do not fret about it, you are all more than welcome,” Lord Murray assured Atwood politely and sincerely. He quite liked young Atwood, at least.
“Know you’re just doing the polite,” Wilfred said, looking relieved nonetheless. “I wouldn’t want Livvy descending upon me.”
“I suppose one might feel that way about one’s sister,” Lord Murray said understandingly.
“Well, I suppose that could be it. If you’re sure we are not putting you out. Must confess it’s much more pleasant here than London during the summer, and I am happy to see Miss Hartwell again. Missed her.”
Wilfred’s confession reminded Lord Murray that his intention was to rob his guest of his beloved betrothed. He was struck once again by Atwood’s open countenance and felt the veriest cad. So much for Highland hospitality, he thought wryly. He hoped Miss Hartwell would release Atwood soon, for he felt most uncomfortable in his role of the benevolent host.
* * * *
Phoebe found her first full day in the company of the Atwoods very different from the ones she and Celeste had been enjoying since Miles Huntsford’s arrival. The presence of Lady Atwood and Olivia prevented them from following their accustomed schedule of activities, for good manners required they stay with the newer guests. Phoebe would not have minded visiting Wilfred, but he had gone riding with Lord Murray and she and Celeste were left with Lady Atwood and Olivia.
Still, Phoebe did have a moment of pleasure at dinner when a servant brought a plate of oatmeal brose and placed it directly before Olivia. At Olivia’s look of surprise, Phoebe explained that Mrs. Baird had heard that Miss Atwood had taken a special liking to oatmeal brose and had ordered the dish prepared specially for her. Olivia made a moue of pleasure and gamely ate the brose while the others helped themselves to the other dishes on the table.
Olivia did not seem to suspect anything, but when the brose reappeared during the first course at supper that evening, Miles Huntsford looked sharply at Phoebe and then slowly broke into a smile.
He knows what I am about,
Phoebe thought, and regarded him with a mixture of defiance and guilt.
Overall, Phoebe found supper trying, for Celeste seemed bent on demonstrating how intimate she was with Lord Murray. She addressed her every other remark to him, seemed to hang on his every word, and only stopped short of calling him “Robert,” which would have proclaimed the existence of their betrothal beyond any question. Phoebe suspected Celeste’s sudden interest in Lord Murray was completely motivated by her desire to discompose Olivia, but Phoebe found her friend’s false attentions upsetting nevertheless.
The time spent after supper was even worse, for the men stayed at their port a long time, leaving Phoebe and Celeste to entertain Olivia and Lady Atwood. Celeste had quickly taken the chair next to Lady Melville and Lady Atwood, which left Phoebe to Olivia.
“I am so pleased Lord Murray had the kindness to invite you to join us at Castle Abermaise, knowing you could not afford to journey to Lake Katrine with the rest of Society,” Olivia said sweetly, for all the world as if it were she who had been first invited.
“Yes, Lord Murray is very kind.”
“The Perthshire air must agree with you, Miss Hartwell, for you are looking remarkably well. But I fear you have been going out without your bonnet and parasol, for I detect several new freckles.”
Before Phoebe could reply to this unkind observation, even though Phoebe had to admit it was most likely true, Olivia continued on to a new topic.
“Mr. Huntsford appears to be a most congenial gentleman. Does he also own estates in Perthshire?”
This time Olivia waited for a response, and Phoebe was amused by Olivia’s transparent ploy for information regarding Mr. Huntsford’s fortune or lack of it.
“I believe Mr. Huntsford resides with his parents in Edinburgh. I am unaware of his owning any estates,” Phoebe answered truthfully, wishing she dared invent multiple estates, and Olivia’s interest in Lord Murray’s cousin immediately vanished.
Phoebe was relieved when the gentlemen finally rejoined them and Olivia abandoned her for more exciting company. Wilfred Atwood, seeing that Phoebe was alone, came to sit with her and regale her with stories of his latest sporting exploits. Phoebe, pleased to be relieved of Olivia’s company, exerted herself to be pleasant to Mr. Atwood.
* * * *
Olivia had watched Lord Murray carefully both during supper and again when he came into the drawing room after port. From what her maid had been able to discover so far, Celeste was the one actually betrothed to Lord Murray, although the engagement had not been officially announced. Olivia had no doubts about her ability to win Lord Murray’s affections from Celeste, for Celeste had made her dislike of many Scottish customs plain, and anyone could see nothing was more likely to put Lord Murray off. The Scots were a proud people; Olivia had learned that from reading
Lady of the Lake.
All she had to do was continue to declare her delight in everything Scottish, and she would soon vanquish Celeste.
Phoebe, however, was another matter. She
did
like
Scotland, and Olivia, a sharp observer, had noticed how Phoebe and Lord Murray watched each other when they thought they were unobserved. She had also noted that Lady Melville seemed unusually attached to Phoebe and that Phoebe had somehow managed to gain the authority to actually supervise some of the work in the castle. How she could compete with this unlikely rival Olivia was not sure, since Lord Murray, oddly enough, did not seem overly discouraged by Phoebe’s unenviable looks.
Olivia scanned the occupants of the room again while pretending to search through the sheet music on the pianoforte. Celeste had claimed Lord Murray’s ear, Phoebe was listening to Wilfred prose on about something, and her mother was conversing with Mr. Huntsford and Lady Melville. Olivia’s roving eye caught Miles Huntsford’s attention, and she looked quickly away. She had decided against Miles Hunts-ford. He was of lower rank than Lord Murray, and, if what Phoebe had said earlier was true, had little wealth. Besides, she felt uncomfortable in his company. She had the distinct impression that he was able to see through her subterfuge.
Olivia pulled a piece of sheet music from the others, and scanned the room one last time, noticing that Lord Murray was watching Phoebe and Wilfred with keen interest. Could it be that he was jealous of her brother? Slowly, a plan began to form in Olivia’s mind. If she could persuade Lord Murray that Phoebe and Wilfred had an understanding, she might be able to divert his attention to her. It would be difficult for anyone to believe a woman could be attached to Wilfred, but Phoebe was not precisely a prize catch and Olivia might be able to point that out, tactfully of course, to Lord Murray.
Olivia decided to act upon her idea immediately. Taking the song she had selected from the pile of music, she suggested that Celeste favour them by performing the piece. Though Olivia knew Celeste’s talent for playing and singing was indifferent, she also knew that Celeste could not refuse. She then bade Mr. Huntsford turn the pages for Celeste to forestall Lord Murray’s offer, which conveniently left him to herself.
“Miss Laurence is an excessively lovely and talented young girl, is she not?” Olivia remarked, opening the conversation.
“Yes, indeed she is,” Lord Murray agreed.
“Phoebe, now,” Olivia continued, “has maturity. I hope I can bring my parents to approve the match between Phoebe and Wilfred. She could be the making of him. He is so awkward and insecure, and Phoebe gives him confidence.”
Lord Murray looked a question at Olivia, and she blushed prettily, staring down at her hands folded in her lap.
“Oh, dear, I should not have betrayed them. I hope you will say nothing to Wilfred or Phoebe. It is a sore point with them both, for my parents oppose the match, of course. I must confess,” she added, knowing instinctively that her next words would put the seal of authenticity on her words, “that I did not myself at first. But Wilfred was so downcast when Phoebe left London that I was quite concerned that he should make himself ill. But now that we are come to Castle Abermaise, only see how much his spirits have revived after scarce one day in her company. I am convinced it is a love match and I can no longer object.”
Lord Murray’s outward response to Olivia was neutral, but his thoughts raced. He was no longer blind to Olivia’s character and suspected that she had a hidden purpose for revealing the information, but he did not doubt the fundamental truth. Olivia’s observations only served to reinforce the conclusion he had had to draw upon observing the couple together. They did indeed appear to be very close. Were Phoebe’s feelings for Atwood deeper than he had first thought?
Satisfied that she had succeeded in planting the seeds of doubt, Olivia left Lord Murray’s company to take her turn at the pianoforte and display her superior accomplishments. Lord Murray remained where he was, still thinking. Miss Hartwell
must
care for him. He remembered kissing her just two days past, how warmly she had responded, the awakening passion he had felt in her soft lips and yielding limbs.
Still, Phoebe had been away from Atwood. Had seeing her betrothed again made her change her mind? She was not behaving like a person intending to break off a betrothal this evening; it was obvious she was enjoying Atwood’s company.
Celeste returned to her place beside Lord Murray after rising from the piano, and Lord Murray was reminded of another complication that had arisen—Celeste’s surprisingly possessive attitude towards him since the arrival of the Atwoods. What start had caused her to behave so, particularly given her former apparent preference for his cousin Miles? What a painful muddle the whole affair was. The Daoine Shi’ must be very pleased, Lord Murray reflected as, with an effort, he forced himself to pay attention to Miss Atwood’s piano-playing.
Chapter Ten
Phoebe felt a thrill of guilty pleasure the next morning when the sound of the bagpipes began earlier and was much louder than usual.
The connecting door to the adjoining chamber suddenly flew open and Celeste ran into Phoebe’s room, her hands covering her ears.
“The pipes sound as if they are being played in this very room,” she complained. “Dinsmore hates me! I am certain he does it to torment me!”
“I believe Dinsmore heard of Olivia’s fondness for pipe music, and like a good hospitable Scotsman, is playing them outside her door for her increased enjoyment,” Phoebe said blandly.
“Dinsmore never showed such consideration for me when he heard I did
not
care for them,” Celeste grumbled.
“I do not think Lord Murray’s kinsmen consider you to be a guest, precisely, given your betrothal,” Phoebe explained, “but Olivia is a real guest and her preferences must be indulged.”
Something in Phoebe’s tone of voice made Celeste look closely at her friend. A smile spread slowly over her face as she finally understood.
“Oh, you are
wicked,
Phoebe,” she cried. “I knew you would not fail to think of something.”
“I? I did nothing but report a guest’s likings,” Phoebe said innocently. “Highland courtesy demanded that I do so.”
Celeste regarded Phoebe with new admiration. “That explains the oats yesterday, too. I do hope your plan works. It is not nearly so pleasant here since Olivia arrived. I cannot believe they have only been here a day and a half. It seems an age.”
“At least you cannot say life here is dull.”
“Dull?” Celeste repeated. “I never felt it was dull. Everything was perfect until Olivia came.”
“I believe your contentment dated from the day Miles Huntsford arrived,” Phoebe said rather dryly. “Before that I had the definite impression you were suffering from ennui.”
Celeste blushed. “Mr. Huntsford is a very congenial gentleman.”
Phoebe gave Celeste a meaningful look but did not tease her further.
“Let us go see how Olivia enjoyed the bagpipes. I daresay everyone should be at breakfast soon. After a few more days of bagpipe music and oatmeal brose perhaps Olivia will set a date for their departure.”
* * * *
But as the days passed Phoebe felt less sanguine about the success of her plan to hasten Olivia’s retreat. Olivia clearly had more determination and greater powers of endurance than Olivia had credited her with! Miss Atwood was given a plate of oatmeal brose at every meal and Dinsmore played his pipes directly outside her chamber door every morning, but she refused to be dislodged and did not make a single complaint. Briefly, Phoebe toyed with the idea of having Olivia’s bed removed and replaced with bunches of heather, but decided she did not dare go to quite those lengths.
Olivia’s appearance at the castle seemed to have heralded the end of all her hopes and plans, Phoebe thought dismally. And everything had been going so well! She thought of the kiss Lord Murray had given her by the lake barely a sen’night past, and found it hard to believe their romantic encounter had ever occurred. Lord Murray had been most remote in his manner towards her since the Atwoods’ arrival. The dark eyes that had so often met hers in silent communication were now carefully blank when he chanced to look her way, and his voice no longer held that special note of warmth when he spoke to her. Perhaps, Phoebe tried to tell herself hopefully, the change in his behaviour simply arose from the Atwoods’ presence. But then again it might signify a change of heart, and Phoebe could not fathom which was the case.
Sighing deeply, Phoebe had Sara lay out a walking dress. Before the Atwoods had arrived Phoebe had been accustomed to walking every morning, and she missed the exercise. Perhaps some brisk exercise would help to clear her thoughts.
On
Phoebe’s way downstairs she passed Mrs. Baird and Balneaves, and was surprised to see that were engaged in a seemingly amicable conversation. The presence of the Atwoods was infecting the whole castle, Phoebe thought. It was not natural for Mrs. Baird and Balneaves to rub along so well.