Spoiled (20 page)

She had only just straightened when she noticed that Michael had opened his eyes. ‘Evangeline,' he murmured in puzzled tones. ‘What are you doing here?' Then before she could say anything, he covered his eyes with his hand. ‘God, I remember. What a bloody fool I've made of myself.'

‘No, I—' she began.

‘You know damned well I have,' he interrupted. ‘Would you please go now? I don't want to talk to anyone just now, least of all you.'

His words had an ominous ring, but she could see that her presence here was not doing any good. He would never listen to her while he was drunk. ‘Very well,' she answered. She walked to the door, then thought of one thing that had been upon her mind when she had set off for Illingham. ‘Where is your sister? She should not see you like this.'

He wrinkled his brow, as if he were trying to remember. ‘She's at the school,' he said eventually.

‘I'll fetch her and take her home with me,' she said. She had suspected that Michael might welcome the removal of his sister to another location and had come prepared to take Theodora back with her to Granby Park in the gig.

‘Thank you,' he answered, closing his eyes again. She went out, softly closing the door behind her.

 

Michael woke up, he did not know how long after Evangeline's visit. Indeed, he could have convinced himself that her appearance had been a dream, but for the coverlet around him which carried the faintest hint of her perfume. He wandered into the kitchen for something to eat and, on finding a hunk of bread and cheese, consumed that and some ale. Then he went up to his room to lick his wounds. Janet arrived in order to cook his dinner, but he called down, telling her not to bother. He was not well and his sister was from home.

She was much concerned and could not be dissuaded from preparing a hot drink for him, but after she had brought it upstairs, she left, promising to return in the morning. He did not feel in any condition to argue with her. After she had left, he went downstairs for the rest of the brandy, and finished the work that he had started earlier.

The following morning he felt as though a whole battalion of elves armed with little hammers had taken up residence inside his head. As well as feeling in poor shape physically, he felt thoroughly ashamed of himself. He was the resident clergyman and ought to be setting a good example to the community. Instead, he had behaved like the village drunkard. What if there had been some emergency the previous evening? He could never have gone.

He went downstairs for hot water so that he could shave and wash and, having taken the jug back to his room and attended to his ablutions, he felt a little better. Then his eyes lit upon his prayer book and once more he felt covered with shame. How could he read the Morning
Office when he had behaved so disgracefully? To make matters worse, there was the letter from the bishop that still lay on the table downstairs. In his present mood, he could only feel that the complainant had had the right idea. He was utterly unfit for his office.

He went downstairs at a pace that was quite at variance with his usual athletic stride. Janet had seen him the previous day when he was the worse for wear. He could hear her moving about in the kitchen. He did not know how he was to look her in the face.

He had just reached the bottom of the stairs when Janet came into the room. ‘Good morning, Reverend,' she said softly. ‘How are you feeling today?' She was holding a tankard in her hand. ‘His lordship sent this for you,' she said. ‘Lord Ilam, I should say. He said he thought it would make you feel better.'

Michael looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Did you tell Lord Ilam that I was … ill?' he asked her.

‘Oh no, sir,' Janet replied. ‘His lordship just seemed to know that you might be in need of something. He said if you drank it down quickly, it would be best.'

Michael flushed with mortification. Did the entire village know that he had got drunk the previous day? Nevertheless, he took the tankard and, after a sniff of distaste, tossed the mixture back. For a moment, he thought that his head and his stomach might both explode. Then, imperceptibly, the cloud in his brain began to disperse, the tight band around his head loosened and he began to feel better. When Janet rather tentatively suggested breakfast, he realized that he was ready for something. It was only after he had begun to eat that he remembered that Theodora was not in the house. Of course! Evangeline Granby had taken her home. His heart gave the customary lift at her name, before he recalled that it was she who had complained against him. All at once, his appetite left him. He eyed the remaining food on his plate with disgust and could not finish it.

He went upstairs and again caught sight of his prayer book. This time, after a brief hesitation, he picked it up and, going downstairs, he left the cottage and walked to the church. There, in the quietness, he read the Morning Office, after which he felt calmer. Then he went into the vestry to try to decide upon his next course of action. He took out a clean sheet of paper, mended a pen and dipped it in the ink, in order to make a list. All he could do after that, however, was sit and stare into space.

In his mind's eye he had recalled over and over again the moment when he had walked into the drawing room of Ashbourne Abbey and
seen Evangeline holding on to the earl's arm whilst he bent over her. Now, as he thought about the matter, he remembered that Evangeline had been in riding dress, and looking decidedly the worse for wear, as if she had ridden there hell for leather. Had she hurried to tell Lord Ashbourne that she thought that he, Michael, was his son? Somehow, that notion hurt as much as the memory of the earl leering over her. Why had she not come to him instead? It was simply another instance of her betrayal.

The church clock sounded the hour and he realized to his surprise that he had been sitting there for nearly half the morning with a blank sheet of paper in front of him. He was no closer to deciding what to do than before.

He walked out of the church, blinking in the bright sunshine. One of the parishioners was passing on the other side of the road, and she bobbed a curtsy. He forced himself to smile and wave a greeting. For how much longer would he be able to do this, he asked himself with a sinking heart?

O
nce back inside his cottage, Michael looked round, and was overwhelmed by another wave of unhappiness. How pleased and proud he had been when he had welcomed Thea just a short time before! He walked over to the fireplace and looked down at the kindling and the logs laid ready in the grate. He felt as if all his hopes were destined to turn to ash, just as surely as the next fire that was lit.

From what seemed to be very far away, he heard a sound that he could not identify at first. Then, shaking off the mist that had enveloped his brain, he realized that someone was knocking at the door. The last thing that he wanted was a visitor. For a brief moment, he had a wild idea that it might be the bishop, until he realized that his lordship would not deign to call upon a curate in this kind of way – particularly a disgraced curate! Reluctantly he opened the door to find an extremely pregnant lady standing on the threshold.

Apart from Lord Ashbourne and Evangeline, he had taken very little notice of those who had been present in the room at Ashbourne Abbey the day before, although he vaguely remembered this lady's shocked face as he had left. He now realized that she was very near her time, and rightly concluded that she must be Lady Ashbourne. He blushed inwardly at the thought of the distress that he must have caused her by knocking her husband down.

‘My lady,' he exclaimed. ‘Please come in.'

‘Thank you,' she said with a smile. ‘I regret I do not move with my usual facility at present.'

‘Doubtless time will mend it,' Michael replied. ‘Please sit down.' He conducted her to a chair.

‘Thank you,' she said again.

‘May I get you something to drink? A cup of tea?'

‘Perhaps in a little while,' she answered. ‘Pray come and sit down with me, Mr Buckleigh, for I have come to talk to you.'

He eyed her warily. She did not look angry. ‘I must apologize for the shock that I gave you yesterday,' he said. ‘It must have been distressing for you.'

‘It is the first time that a visitor has made his entrance in such a way,' she agreed. ‘My husband has suffered no permanent damage, but then I don't suppose that will concern you particularly.'

Michael got up. ‘Forgive me, my lady,' he said. ‘I do not know; I …' His voice tailed off. He covered his eyes with his hand.

‘I do not suppose you ever expected to meet your father,' Jessie suggested gently.

He looked at her. ‘He has told you, then. No, I did not expect to, nor did I ever want to,' he answered frankly. ‘I had no wish to meet the man who had despoiled my mother, then left her without a word.' He flushed, remembering to whom he was speaking. ‘I'm sorry, but it is the truth.'

‘The truth as you see it, sir.' Jessie looked down at her hands, then looked up at him. ‘Mr Buckleigh, how old do you suppose my husband is?'

It was not the question that he had expected to hear. ‘Why, forty-eight or forty-nine, I suppose,' he hazarded.

‘He is forty-four,' Jessie answered. ‘How old are you, Mr Buckleigh?'

‘Twenty-eight,' Michael answered, his eyes widening. ‘But—'

‘He was only sixteen when you were born,' Jessie interrupted. ‘How much control over his own destiny do you suppose he had?'

‘Enough to get a young woman with child,' Michael answered, his tone hardening. Nevertheless he could not help remembering that his own mother would have been just forty-four had she lived.

‘You must see him again; give him a chance to explain.'

‘There is nothing to say,' said Michael. ‘And now, if you will excuse me—'

Jessie sighed, and pulled herself to her feet. ‘Mr Buckleigh, if you only knew—' She broke off with a gasp, bent over, and clutched her stomach. Her eyes opened wide. ‘Oh, my goodness!' She gasped again.

‘Allow me to assist you into the carriage,' said Michael concernedly.

There was a short pause while they both waited for the contraction to cease. She shook her head. ‘It's too late for that, and also for the cup
of tea that you promised. I very much regret that I will be giving birth in your cottage, Mr Buckleigh. Will you have my husband fetched, if you please?'

Michael went outside hastily and sent the carriage away with a succinct message. Then he went back into the cottage, where Lady Ashbourne was doubled-up with another contraction. ‘The maid changed my bed linen only today,' he said. ‘Will you allow me to help you upstairs?'

She shook her head. ‘I would rather wait until my husband comes,' she said. ‘Talk to me. Tell me how you like Illingham. Have you made many friends?'

He talked gently to her, holding her hand, and placing his arm about her to steady her each time she was seized by another contraction. He was just nursing her through the most powerful one yet when galloping hoofs came to a halt outside. The door of the cottage opened and Lord Ashbourne stood on the threshold. Michael noted with a sense of satisfaction of which he was immediately ashamed that a faint bruise across the chin marred the earl's masculine beauty. As the two men's eyes met, Michael realized that Lord Ashbourne must be seeing a very similar sight to the one that had met his own eyes when he had entered the drawing room and seen the earl bending over Evangeline. With a sudden moment of insight, he understood that the earl's stance could have been protective rather than lecherous.

‘Raff,' Jessie breathed thankfully.

‘I'm here, sweetheart.' Lord Ashbourne crossed the room in two strides and bent to smooth his wife's hair away from her brow and drop a gentle kiss upon it, whilst Michael rose and stepped back.

‘Mr Buckleigh wanted to help me upstairs, but I waited for you.'

‘We must get you home,' the earl insisted. ‘The chaise is coming.'

Lady Ashbourne shook her head. ‘It's too late. My waters have broken.'

‘My room is to the left at the top of the stairs, my lord,' said Michael.

Ashbourne nodded. ‘My thanks. Now, up with you, my dear.'

When Michael had first seen his father, the earl had looked the very picture of an elegant gentleman, not a hair out of place. Today he was dressed for riding, but despite the fact that he must have ridden from Ashbourne Abbey hell-for-leather, he still looked as though he had only just left the ministrations of his valet. If asked, Michael would have hazarded that the earl was just a little effete. Now, to his surprise, Ashbourne bent down and, without noticeable effort, picked his wife up in his arms.

‘Raff, I can walk if you will assist me,' she protested gently.

‘Yes, but I like to carry you,' the earl replied, smiling tenderly at her.

Jessie sighed and leaned against his shoulder in the manner of a woman who has found a longed for place of safety in which to rest. Michael hurried up the stairs and into his room, to make sure that all of his belongings were out of the way. Then he drew back the covers so that the bed would be ready for the unexpected occupant.

‘Thank you, Mr Buckleigh. This is most kind,' said Jessie as Ashbourne brought her in.

‘I will fetch one of my sister's nightgowns,' said Michael, going into Theodora's room and coming back with the garment in question. Luckily, since Lady Ashbourne was bigger than Theodora, particularly now, the garment was a voluminous one.

‘Ilam has gone for the doctor,' said the earl. ‘Would you be so good as to go downstairs and look out for them?'

Michael had only just descended the stairs when Ilam arrived at the door with the doctor and a sensible-looking woman, who turned out to be the midwife. ‘Lady Ashbourne is upstairs,' said the curate. ‘Her husband is attending her.'

It was not very long before Lord Ashbourne came back down. In his eyes was an expression of deep anxiety. ‘Dismissed already?' Ilam asked him.

The earl inclined his head. ‘As you say. I have nothing to do but wait, apparently.'

‘My home is naturally at your disposal,' said Michael a little stiffly. With all the excitement, and the need to see Lady Ashbourne safely disposed, he had briefly forgotten about the circumstances in which he and the earl had last met. Now, he hardly knew how to face the man. ‘I will withdraw to the Olde Oak, so that you may have more room.'

‘There's not the least necessity for that,' Ilam replied. ‘You are more than welcome at Illingham Hall.'

‘You are very good,' Michael answered.

Gabriel turned to his father. ‘By your leave, sir, I think I should go back to Ashbourne Abbey and acquaint Stacia with what is happening.'

The earl grinned reluctantly. ‘No doubt she'll want to come back with you. Women, I find, all want to be closely involved with these kinds of events.'

‘Michael?' The curate looked up, startled to hear his Christian name upon the lips of his half-brother. Ilam had said that he might call him
Gabriel. It had not occurred to him that the viscount would assume that the privilege should be mutual.

He read the message in Gabriel's eyes without difficulty. He was asking him to remain at the cottage so that Lord Ashbourne would not have to wait alone. Briefly, Michael hesitated, his gaze turning away. There was nothing that he wanted to do less. In that instant, he caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror. Unlike yesterday evening, he was once more neatly dressed, his high plain stock proclaiming his calling and reminding him of his responsibilities. One of the two men with him now was a parishioner. The other was deeply anxious about his wife, who was even now giving birth upstairs. He could not refuse to help.

‘Of course I will remain,' he said.

Ilam nodded. He picked up his hat, crossed to where his father was standing, reached out and gripped his shoulder. ‘Jessie is in good health, and the doctor is reliable. I'm sure that all will be well.'

Ashbourne smiled bleakly. ‘I'm grateful to you for your reassurance, but my experience in this aspect of life has not been very happy so far.'

Ilam nodded. ‘I must be on my way,' he said.

Seized by a sudden thought, Michael said, ‘My lord, I wonder … I scarcely like to ask, but—'

‘Ask anything you like, but for God's sake stop calling me “my lord”,' Ilam interrupted.

Michael smiled reluctantly. ‘Very well – Gabriel. Miss Granby took my sister home with her yesterday when I was … was …'

‘Indisposed?' Gabriel suggested. ‘You'd like me to look in upon them?'

‘Only if you have time. Perhaps they could be informed about what is happening here. I think that it would be for the best if Miss Granby could keep Theodora with her, but only if it's of no inconvenience. Obviously I understand that any errands to do with Lady Ashbourne must come first.'

‘Consider it done,' Gabriel answered. ‘I'll get a message to her somehow.' He turned again to his father. ‘Bear up. Jessie would expect it of you, you know.'

As Michael watched him go out of the door and close it behind him, he thought of how Gabriel was going to see Evangeline. He had not had leisure to think about her since Lady Ashbourne had arrived. Now, he thought of her again, and remembered the letter. For the first time, it occurred to him that her offer to take care of his sister did not fit with
his picture of a spoiled woman who cared nothing for him. He frowned in puzzlement.

He had not realized that at the mention of his sister, Lord Ashbourne had turned his attention from what was happening upstairs, and had become curiously still. Now he spoke. ‘No one told me that you had a sister,' he said, his expression puzzled.

‘A half sister,' Michael replied. ‘Our mother died when Theodora was born.'

‘Not when
you
were born.'

‘Not when I was born,' Michael agreed.

‘It's what I was told.'

At that moment, there came a cry from upstairs. ‘Jez,' Ashbourne breathed, and without hesitation, he sprang from his chair, and ran up the stairs. Michael heard the murmur of voices and moments later, the earl came back down.

‘It is not uncommon for women to cry out in this situation,' the curate told him, feeling that he ought to say something reassuring.

‘You're an expert, are you?' the earl asked, his eyes hard with anxiety.

‘Not an expert, but at least I was there when Theodora was born,' Michael answered coldly.

‘Meaning that
I
was not there when
you
were born, I suppose,' Ashbourne suggested.

‘You may draw what inference you please, my lord,' said Michael, turning his back. ‘I am quite uninterested in your opinions.'

‘If you would but allow me to explain,' Ashbourne began.

Michael whirled round. ‘Explain what? How you despoiled a young woman who was little more than a child? How you deserted her and left her to explain the situation to her cold-hearted family? How your desertion meant that she was all but sold into servitude, from which she was rescued, not by you, but by my stepfather? How you never, ever made any attempt to find me, or take an interest in me?' To his horror, he could hear his voice trembling as he spoke that sentence. He forgot all about his promise to Gabriel. All he knew was that he could not remain in this man's presence for a moment longer. ‘No, I'm afraid I have no interest in your spineless excuses. You're a libertine and a coward, and I despise you with all my heart.' He walked to the door and stood, his hand on the handle.