Spoiled (21 page)

‘Where are you going?' Ashbourne asked, white-faced.

‘Does it matter? I'm simply doing what you did: I'm walking away.'

Michael left the cottage not knowing where he was going and caring
less. The words that he had just spoken to Ashbourne were whirling round and round in his brain. Where had all that bitterness come from? He had thought that he was largely indifferent to the man that had fathered him. Now, Ashbourne's desertion was ripping and tearing at him, as if it had only just happened. After he had been walking for some time, he realized that he was breathing heavily, as if he had just taken part in some strenuous exercise. He stopped to catch his breath, unsure of how far he had walked or in what direction. Without surprise, he noted that he was within sight of Granby Park.

Before coming to Illingham, his sole aim had been to serve as well as he might, and progress nearer to gaining his own parish. He had known what he wanted, who he was, and where he was going. Now, his life had become complicated and none of these issues was clear. His reverie was interrupted by the advent of a man on horseback. Michael recognized him almost immediately as being Lieutenant Fellowes.

It had been with a sense of satisfaction that Fellowes had delivered Lady Belton's letter to the bishop. He had ridden into the village with the intention of calling upon Michael to try to discover how he had taken the news. The curate's appearance was everything that he could have hoped for. The man looked absolutely stunned. ‘A delightful day,' remarked the soldier, enjoying looking down upon one whom he perceived as being a rival.

Michael looked about him blankly. He was so oblivious to the state of the weather that he would hardly have been surprised to discover a light covering of snow. ‘As you say,' he replied in distracted tones.

‘I fear I interrupt your thoughts,' said the lieutenant, with more than a touch of malice. ‘Doubtless you are preparing next week's sermon – your text drawn from one of the
letters
, perhaps.' He gave his penultimate word a little extra emphasis.

‘Yes, my mind is elsewhere,' Michael admitted, not catching his inference. ‘Forgive me. I am not good company today.'

‘Think nothing of it,' answered Fellowes, torn between pleasure that Michael was so clearly disturbed and annoyance that he was not rising to the bait. ‘I will leave you to your walk. I am about to call on the divine Miss Granby and I must not keep her waiting.' So saying, he turned his mount and rode off towards Granby Park. He had made no arrangement to call upon Evangeline, but it suited him to give Michael that impression.

Such a revelation could hardly make Michael more miserable than he already was. He turned and walked in the opposite direction. So
Evangeline, having raised a complaint against him, was now encouraging Fellowes. His duty to Mr Granby perhaps dictated that he should discourage this state of affairs, but he could not do it; he simply could not.

Still bent upon avoiding the village, he took one of the many paths that criss-crossed the countryside thereabouts. He did not want to meet anyone. Just now he needed to lick his own wounds.

After walking for some little time, his thoughts becoming no clearer as he went, he eventually came upon a house that he thought he recognized. On circumnavigating it, he found that he had approached Halfpenny House from the back. Lady Agatha Rayner was in the garden cutting some flowers. She stood looking at him as he approached. ‘You look awful,' she said frankly, as soon as he was close enough to speak to. ‘Come inside for a glass of wine.'

‘Thank you, but I'm averse to company at present,' he answered.

She picked up the basket at her feet and handed it to him, giving him no choice but to take it. ‘Do as you're told, Nephew,' she said, before walking into the house, leaving him to follow behind.

They entered by a glass door at the back which gave on to a book room. From there, Lady Agatha led him through a door which led into the drawing room where they had sat when he had first visited her. She rang the bell, then when Grimes came, she gave him the basket and instructed him to bring wine.

‘How did you know?' Michael asked curiously.

She did not ask him to explain what he meant. ‘You have our eyebrows to start with,' she replied. ‘Mind you, with that hair the effect is so freakish that one doesn't notice them straight away. Where did you get it from? Your mother?'

‘Yes,' Michael answered. ‘You'll find that my sister has the same hair colour, but fortunately without the eyebrows.'

‘But then Ashbourne ain't her father. What else? Oh, your bearing.'

‘My bearing?'

‘That smooth elegance of movement, added to the way you lift your chin – it's all Ashbourne. What's more, I knew that Raff's bastard was a clergyman named Michael. Add all those things together and it makes an obvious picture to one who knows him – or you – well.'

Grimes returned with the wine and, as on the previous occasion, Lady Agatha asked her visitor to pour. ‘I have to say that I immensely enjoyed the visit to the abbey the other day,' her ladyship remarked, when they both had a glass in their hand. ‘I haven't been entertained so well in ages.'

Michael grinned wryly. It seemed to be a long time since he had had cause to smile about anything. ‘You'll forgive me if I take a different view of the matter,' he said.

‘I expect you do,' she conceded. ‘Perhaps you think I ought to apologize to you. After all, it was Raff's skin I wanted to get under and not yours. But I'm afraid that I never apologize for anything.'

‘I expect
I
got under his skin far more thoroughly,' he answered, looking down into his wine.

‘I doubt that. Men never seem to resent being hit by one another as much as one would suppose. Was he what you expected?'

Michael thought of the moment when he had first seen his father, then recalled his encounter with him in the cottage earlier that day. ‘Yes and no,' he answered.

‘I always thought that I hated him,' remarked Lady Agatha conversationally. ‘It was only when he nearly died following a duel which he fought over Jessie that I realized my feelings for him were far more complicated. There's eight years between us, you see, and we've never been close. Our father saw to that.'

‘You'll have to talk to my sister, ma'am,' said Michael. ‘She'd like to exchange views with you on what it is like to bear with an older brother.'

Lady Agatha smiled mischievously. ‘That's just the kind of flummery that Raff would come up with, but Ilam would never say in a million years.'

‘If you're going to say I'm like him—'

‘You'll do what? Knock
me
down? You can't deny your inheritance. Be thankful. There's plenty of worse people you could have been like. At least Raff doesn't take after our father in nature. He was an evil old bastard.'

‘Presumably you take your own advice and don't seek to deny
your
inheritance, ma'am,' said Michael.

She laughed. ‘
Touché
. Your Evangeline called me an evil old witch the other day.'

‘She's not my Evangeline.'

‘Oh, I think that perhaps she is.'

From Halfpenny House, he walked into the village and stood for a long time looking into the duck pond. Somewhere in the distance he heard a baby crying. For the first time, he recalled that even though he had been asked by Gabriel to stay at the cottage, he had walked out after less than five minutes. No doubt he had by now lost the good
opinion of the one member of the family who until now had been predisposed in his favour. He wondered idly how deep the duck pond might be and whether it would be possible for him to drown himself.

A
s soon as Theodora was settled in at Granby Park and Evangeline could decently leave her, she ran to her room to look for the letter. She would have liked to have rushed home to look for the wretched thing straight after she had left Michael's cottage. Unfortunately, she had committed herself to collecting Theodora from the school. To make matters worse, since Michael's sister had no inkling of the tumultuous nature of recent events, Evangeline was forced to put on a bright façade, even though she was feeling quite the opposite.

Once alone, she was freed from the need to dissemble. Frantically, she searched through her drawers, then checked underneath all the furniture, between her chest of drawers and the wall. Finally she was obliged to acknowledge that it was nowhere to be seen. Surely no one could have picked up the letter and sent it? She was not so careless with her letters normally. Eventually, she sent for Elsie who put an end to all hope by saying, ‘Oh yes, miss, I found it and made sure it was sent.'

After she had spent some time berating herself to no purpose, she decided that the best thing to do would be to contact the bishop directly. He would surely listen to her! If necessary, in order to convince him that she had a high opinion of the curate, she would inform him that she and Michael intended to marry. She could even say that she had only written the letter because they had had a lovers' quarrel. It would be a shocking piece of mendacity, not to say presumption, on her part, particularly now that Michael no doubt considered her to be the lowest person who ever breathed. She now admitted to herself, however, that there was nothing that she desired more. She loved him and she wanted to marry him. It was as simple as that. It did not matter two straws to her that he
was Lord Ashbourne's bastard. Nor did it matter that he had scarcely a penny to his name. If he loved her – and she was by no means convinced that he did after everything that she had done – then she would somehow persuade her father to accept him as a son-in-law.

She had enjoyed her London seasons hugely. Now, she did not want to attend any more, unless it was as Mrs Buckleigh. But first, she must sweep away the nightmare of this complaint, so that Michael could continue to do the work that he loved. Even if he could not forgive her, she owed him that much.

Theodora was delighted to have the chance to spend some time with Miss Granby at her home, providing that Michael could be informed. They did not collect Theodora's things from the cottage. Evangeline made her invitation sound as if it was just for the rest of the day. She had no doubt that she would be able to persuade her guest to stay the night. Then someone could be sent to get her things, or she might be able to borrow some clothes that Evangeline had outgrown and had not yet thrown away.

Evangeline's mother took to the curate's sister immediately, and was soon showing the younger woman her embroidery, a craft which Evangeline did not enjoy, but which Theodora found very absorbing and in which she had some skill. Mrs Granby was also in good spirits because she had had a letter just that morning telling her that her husband would be home any day now.

Evangeline was obliged to conceal how much she dreaded such an eventuality. As a supporter of Michael's, he would be horrified at what she had done. He could not be any more horrified than she was herself. She felt like a traitor, entertaining Michael's sister when she might quite possibly be the means of his ruin.

After a late breakfast the following morning, Evangeline took Theodora for a walk around the rose garden, not yet looking its best, but showing promise for the future. Theodora made a comment about the garden of the vicarage in which she had lived with her father. Evangeline answered her, well aware that she was only giving a small part of her mind to what her guest was saying.

The more she thought about it, the more it seemed to her that the best thing for her to do would be to go to Sheffield in person. The whole situation would be far too complicated to explain in a letter. What was more, she could not be certain that it would arrive before Michael had to appear before the bishop. In any case, she felt certain that a personal approach would be the best. She was well aware of the effect that her
remarkable beauty had upon most men. If she could charm the bishop into listening to her, then so much the better.

The only question was how to get there. Her father was not available to take her. She dared not ask Lord Ashbourne or Lord Ilam for favours on Michael's behalf, for she had no idea how either of them felt about this new relative. Lady Agatha might come out of sheer mischief, but in order to persuade her to do so, Evangeline would have to reveal more than she wanted about her personal feelings.

If she could once get to Sheffield everything would be easy. She would be able to stay overnight with her relations if necessary. Doubtless they would think it very odd of her to turn up unexpectedly, but they could not possibly have a worse opinion of her than they already had.

Evangeline and Theodora were just going inside when Lord Ilam came out into the garden, moving with his usual energetic stride. He bowed to them both, bade them good day, then turned to Theodora. ‘I come to you with the latest news,' he said. ‘My stepmother is at your house, Miss Buckleigh, as is my father.' Evangeline bit back an exclamation. Ilam looked pointedly in her direction. They were both remembering what had happened in the drawing room of Ashbourne Abbey. ‘She went to call upon Michael and went into labour. She is presently giving birth upstairs.'

‘And Lord Ashbourne?' Evangeline ventured.

‘He remains there. Michael is keeping him company.'

‘Is that wise?' Evangeline asked, forgetting for a moment that Theodora did not know what had happened the previous day.

‘Why should it not be wise?' Theodora asked anxiously. ‘What is happening? Is Michael all right?'

‘Your brother is perfectly all right,' Ilam answered reassuringly. ‘He has things to talk about with my father, that is all.' Before Theodora could ask what those things might be he went on, ‘I have been to Ashbourne Abbey to collect my wife. She has stepped down from the carriage to have a brief word with Mrs Granby, but I must not delay.'

‘Please tell Mr Buckleigh that he need have no concern for his sister,' Evangeline said. ‘She may stay here for as long as is necessary.' As he left them, Evangeline reflected that here was another reason why she could not possibly ask Lord Ilam or his father for help to get to Sheffield.

She was still pondering anxiously over the matter that afternoon when Lieutenant Fellowes was announced as she and Theodora were looking over some new fashion plates that had arrived from London. Mrs Granby was resting on her bed.

The last time Evangeline had spoken with Fellowes, he had accused her of having an interest in Michael and she had denied it. It was obvious that he could not abide the curate. Suddenly it seemed to her that Fellowes might be someone that she could make use of. With this in mind, she suggested that the three of them should stroll about the garden a little. Then, as she and Theodora stepped on to the terrace, she whispered, ‘Miss Buckleigh, in a little while, would you make an excuse for coming back inside? I need to speak to Lieutenant Fellowes alone.'

Theodora looked at Evangeline rather reproachfully. She had been hoping that this new glamorous friend might make a match of it with her brother. Nevertheless, she nodded and, after only a short time, she exclaimed over a broken shoestring and hurried into the house.

‘Miss Granby,' said the lieutenant, ‘may I take advantage of your companion's absence by asking you if you have decided to relent towards me?'

‘Relent?' Evangeline echoed, turning away so that he had just a tantalizing glimpse of her perfect profile.

‘Last time we spoke, it seemed to me that you had decided to favour the church over the army,' he explained.

She gave a trill of laughter. ‘Good heavens, no,' she answered. ‘You appeared to me to be presuming rather a lot, so I thought to teach you a lesson. Have you learned it, sir?' She glanced up at him through her lashes.

‘I was never a good scholar, but if you were my teacher, then I vow I would try harder,' he replied, his eyes full of laughter that was not entirely free from malice. In view of what he had learned about her activities in the church vestry, this was bidding fair to become a most entertaining conversation. He would allow her to take the lead and see where it took them.

‘So I can expect to see some improvement.'

‘Never doubt it, Miss Granby. And now that little Miss Buckleigh has gone inside, you will be able to favour me with some … ah … individual tuition.'

This was just the opening that Evangeline had been hoping for. ‘I am glad she has left us, I confess,' she sighed. ‘I felt obliged to invite her to stay, but now I am regretting it.'

‘And why is that?'

‘Well, you know that Mr Buckleigh is supposed to be acting as my guardian while Papa is away. I am convinced that his little sister will spy
upon me, telling him everything that I do. It is most vexatious. No doubt she will tell him that I have been walking alone with you in the garden, for instance.'

‘In that case, I wonder why you sent her in,' he observed.

She smiled at him. ‘I thought it worth the risk,' she replied, with a saucy toss of her head. ‘What I would not give to make sure that he had a taste of his own medicine!'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Well, he has been trying to rule my life. I would very much like him to discover what it is like to be lorded over by someone else – the bishop, for instance.'

‘Really?' He leaned closer to her. ‘Well perhaps your wish might be fulfilled.'

‘In what way?' she asked.

‘Someone has written to the bishop to complain about him. He'll be summoned to Sheffield to have his wrists slapped very soon, no doubt.'

‘How do you know?' Evangeline asked sharply, forgetting her role for a moment.

He stared at her curiously. ‘How does anyone know about these things? News gets about.'

‘Is it known who sent the letter?' she asked cautiously.

‘That would be telling.' His reply convinced her that by some means he had found out about the complaint, but did not know its source.

‘Anyway, this is excellent,' Evangeline declared. ‘Oh, how I wish I had known sooner.'

‘Why?' he asked.

‘Well, I … I could have sent a letter at the same time,' she answered, improvising rapidly. ‘Now, I expect it will be too late, and perhaps just one letter will not be sufficient to get him removed.'

‘Removed? You surprise me.'

‘Do I?' she asked ingenuously.

‘Last time we spoke upon the subject, I gained the impression that you were thinking more favourably of him.'

‘Certainly not,' Evangeline replied indignantly. ‘He is presumptuous and takes far too much upon himself. He needs to be taught a lesson. I wonder …' She allowed her voice to tail away.

‘You wonder?' he prompted.

‘I was just thinking that if I could only get to Sheffield, I could speak to the bishop in person.'

‘So you could,' he replied in a conversational tone.

She looked at him, as if taken by a sudden thought. ‘Would
you
consider escorting me there tomorrow?'

‘I? Tomorrow?' Even Fellowes was startled.

‘It may seem rather sudden, but you see, my mother has heard that my father will be back any day. It will be much harder to get away when he is around. He approves so heartily of Mr Buckleigh that he will not hear a word against him. I will never be able to lodge a complaint once Papa is home.'

‘Suppose I did take you tomorrow, how would you get away with it?'

‘Oh, quite easily,' Evangeline replied. ‘Mama never rises much before noon. You could come to fetch me first thing and we could be in Sheffield by midday. If the bishop can see me straight away – and I do not see why he should not – we will be back by dinner time.'

‘Will your mother not be anxious? Remember what a ridiculous taking she got herself into when we simply went out riding.'

‘Miss Buckleigh is staying,' Evangeline replied, biting back a sharp retort at his implied criticism of her mother. ‘She can tell Mama that I have gone to see Lady Ilam.'

‘But won't it seem odd that Miss Buckleigh has not gone as well?'

‘Not really,' Evangeline replied. ‘Miss Buckleigh is a little lame, as you may have noticed. She can pretend that her foot is paining her and that she would rather stay at home.'

‘How do you propose we should go?' The lieutenant asked.

She looked nonplussed. ‘I had not thought of that,' she said truthfully.

Lieutenant Fellowes thought for a moment. ‘I have an idea,' he said. ‘Why don't I persuade Amelia to come with us? I need not say anything to her about the nature of your errand. You could pretend that you were visiting your cousin or something, and I could take her shopping. That way, you would be chaperoned without having to bother about bringing a maid.'