An Honest Deception (11 page)

The bishop’s words
inspired a desire in Letitia to grind her teeth, or still better, order him to
leave immediately, but good manners prevailed. She had perforce to summon James
and Emily and make them known to Dr. Wolfe and his solemn daughters. Once the
bishop had complimented James on his chubbiness and Emily on her golden curls
and observed that they were not dressed warmly enough for the day’s weather,
the group departed Lady Morgan’s house and went to the park.

“There is nothing
so healthful as a walk,” said the bishop. “I trust that this exercise is not
too much for a delicate lady such as yourself, Lady Morgan. If you have need,
you are welcome to lean upon my arm.”

“I am perfectly healthy,
sir,” said Letitia. “I walk with the children every day.”

“Admirable,” said
the bishop. “My late wife was a lovely woman, but her health was not good. Sturdy
women can be a great blessing.”

This comment left
Letitia wishing she had betrayed greater fragility, but she reflected that,
just as the bishop seemed determined to marry her, he also seemed determined to
approve of anything she might say. If she were even now leaning on his arm he
would doubtless harangue her on the very proper femininity of such behavior.

In the park James
tried to exhibit good manners by inviting Margaret and Druscilla to play with
him, but they only looked at him solemnly and then huddled together.

“They are shy young
ladies,” observed the bishop. “But they will soon learn to like your boy. I am
sure they will get along famously.”

Letitia surveyed
the children doubtfully, but did not venture an answer. Her own children looked
like tops spinning around the inert Margaret and Druscilla.

“Now we can have a
comfortable chat,” proclaimed Dr. Wolfe, seating himself next to Letitia on the
bench. “I must tell you, Lady Morgan, how much I enjoy your conversation.” He
launched into a long and exceedingly dull story involving his archdeacon and
the local gentry, which required his audience to utter not a word.

Letitia allowed the
bishop’s words to flow over her as she surveyed the gardens. It was a lovely
day, one she would have enjoyed but for the cloud of Dr. Wolfe’s company. Soon,
however, her mood lightened, for she saw Mr. Markham approaching them.

Letitia noticed
that he hesitated a moment when he perceived her companion, but he continued to
advance, and to her delight the bishop was compelled to stop talking upon his
approach.

“Mr. Markham!” she
exclaimed, extending her hand. “How good to see you again.”

“Lady Morgan,” he
murmured, clasping her hand. He gave the bishop a glance, reassuring himself
that this gentleman was unknown to him, and then smiled on Letitia. “How
delightful to encounter you.”

The bishop stood
and drew himself to his full height, but the soberly clad Mr. Markham still was
taller. Dr. Wolfe gave him a haughty glance, for, despite the interloper’s air
of ease, his clothes proclaimed him a member of the middle class.

“Dr. Wolfe, may I
introduce Mr. Markham? Dr. Wolfe is the Bishop of Mainwaring,” said Letitia. “He
is an acquaintance of my cousin, Lord Bainstall.”

A humorous gleam
came to Lord Eynsford’s eyes, and he offered his hand to the bishop. Dr. Wolfe
responded with an indignant glare and touched his hand briefly.

“Good morning,” he
said coldly.

“How pleasant to
meet you,” observed the marquess. “It is kind of you to visit Lady Morgan. I am
sure she appreciates your concern for her.” He looked down into Letitia’s face
and found a smile there.

A heavy frown appeared
on the bishop’s face, as he watched their shared smile, and he broke in with a
glare at the supposed Mr. Markham. “I am concerned for all of God’s creatures,”
he announced, “but Lady Morgan, of course, is particularly special to me, as
her cousin and my dear friend, Lord Bainstall has asked me to take an interest
in her welfare.”

Lord Eynsford
looked at him thoughtfully. “How noble of you, to be sure,” he said. His eyes
met Letitia’s again, and he saw in her look both laughter and annoyance. He
somehow felt sure that the emotions were aimed at the bishop, and not at him. It
vexed him that she should be distressed by this pompous oaf. “She must feel
quite lucky to have such a distinguished gentleman visit her.”

Dr. Wolfe’s chest
expanded slightly and a pleased look came over his face. “Well, I do not care
to boast, but I believe I am known to take the good of others to heart. A widow
in need of support must naturally interest me.” He rubbed his hands together
and deigned to unbend slightly to the stranger. “Tell me, Mr. Markham, what
line of work you are in?”

“I am a solicitor,”
he responded gently.

“A solicitor!” said
the bishop jovially. “Very good, a sound profession. How come you to be
acquainted with Lady Morgan? Have you been engaged in services for her?”

“Lady Morgan and I
are simply friends,” said the marquess. “We encountered one another here in the
Gardens and found that we had interests in common.”

“Mr. Markham has
been very kind to the children,” added Letitia. “James enjoys his company.”

The bishop looked
faintly surprised. “A most unusual friendship!” he exclaimed. “I doubt many
baronesses include solicitors among their circle of acquaintances. How
egalitarian you are, Lady Morgan,” he added, with a bit of a sneer.

Letitia flushed. She
had not stopped to consider her friendship with Mr. Markham before now, and
today she was being forced to examine it not once, but twice. But while Isobel
had only made her realize it was rather unusual, the bishop managed to convey
that it was somehow improper.

She imagined that
some people, her cousin in particular, might be shocked by a friendship with a
solicitor, but she herself could conceive of no reason why she should not
associate with a man of such obvious gentility as Mr. Markham. She opened her
mouth to respond, but was amazed to note that Mr. Markham had transformed
himself utterly. A look of distinct hauteur covered his face, changing him from
her amiable, if exceptionally handsome, friend into a figure of glacial
authority.

“Lady Morgan has
been kind enough to honor me with her friendship,” he said, his voice very
soft, yet somehow menacing. “I would hesitate to imply that she could ever make
a poor choice in the matter of her associations. Do you mean to say that you
feel her judgment is faulty?”

The bishop felt
inexplicably uncomfortable. The man he was facing was a mere solicitor, while
he was not only the scion of a noble family, but a high-ranking churchman as
well. Still, he was being made to feel not only ill at ease, but also as though
he had committed some sort of faux pas. This was impossible; no solicitor was a
fit judge of how he, Dr. Wolfe, Bishop of Mainwaring should behave.

“I meant no such
thing, of course,” he said, a bit too hastily. He paused and caught his breath.
There was no reason to let this fellow get the best of him. “However, I think
that you, sir, might consider the damage your acquaintance with the lady might
do her reputation.”

“I was unaware that
speaking to a man of business in a public place was likely to incur the wrath
of Society,” said his lordship. “Although I am not well-acquainted with the
customs pertaining in
tonnish
circles, I thought that a lady was known
by her breeding and taste and not by the tales of gossips.”

“Naturally gossip
must not be listened to,” sputtered the bishop. “But an inappropriate
friendship can present a very odd appearance indeed.”

“A friendship is
only inappropriate if one needs to be ashamed of it,” said the marquess. “Are
you ashamed of me, Lady Morgan?” he asked, turning to Letitia.

He saw a smile leap
into her eyes. “Not at all, Mr. Markham,” she replied.

“There you have it,”
said Lord Eynsford, directing a cold look at the bishop. “I believe Lady Morgan
will accept your apology now.”

“I am of course
very sorry if I have offended Lady Morgan,” said the bishop, with a bow to her.
“I did not mean to imply that she was lacking in judgment. I simply have a
concern for her happiness and a regard for her person.”

“Then we share the
same sentiments,” said the marquess. “A happy occurrence.”

James came running
up, having perceived the presence of his great friend. “Mr. Markham!” he said.
“Do come play with us.”

A smile broke
through the stern look on Phillip’s face. “I would be happy to, James,” he
said. With a small bow to Letitia and a nod to the bishop, he took the boy's
hand in his and walked away.

“Upon my word,”
exclaimed Dr. Wolfe. “What a very strange sort of solicitor he is.”

“I beg your pardon?”
said Letitia.

“Your friend does
not behave as any other solicitor I have encountered,” continued the bishop.

“I am aware that he
is much younger than most solicitors I know,” ventured Letitia, “but there must
be many others his age.”

“My dear Lady
Morgan,” said Dr. Wolfe, his self-importance now thoroughly re-inflated, “no
solicitor of my acquaintance would speak to me in such a way. His lack of
concern for your standing is quite reprehensible.”

Letitia frowned. “I
believe we have already discussed this notion of yours that there is something
not entirely respectable about my association with Mr. Markham,” she said. “We
are mere acquaintances, and I appreciate his advice and support. There is
really nothing to worry about.”

The bishop opened
his mouth to respond and paused. It was apparent that Lady Morgan was unaware
of exactly how unusual her friend's behavior had been, and she quite obviously
took exception to his objecting to her acquaintance with him.

Dr. Wolfe’s
understanding was not great nor was his sensitivity to the feelings of others
strong, but he had a powerful sense of his own value, and Mr. Markham's
behavior had offended him deeply. His friendship with the woman Dr. Wolfe had
decided he would wed was likewise annoying. Still, there would be plenty of
time after he had married Lady Morgan to wean her away from her unsuitable
friends.

It did not occur to
the bishop that his marriage to Lady Morgan might not take place; it had been
arranged between him and her cousin, and therefore was certain to occur. Bainstall
had assured him that she was kind and biddable, and to the bishop’s delight she
was very beautiful.

If she showed signs
of possessing a mind of her own, that was due to her single state, and simply a
clear sign that she was in need of a husband. She would soon rely on him for
her every opinion. To argue with his future wife about a mere solicitor was not
only unseemly but also uncomfortable. In the meantime, it would do no harm to
find out more about Mr. Markham.

“Very well, dear
Lady Morgan,” said the bishop. “We will speak of it no more. I am sure that
soon you will no longer have need of Mr. Markham's advice. You know you may
rely on me, do you not?”

“What?” asked
Letitia, who had been watching James and Mr. Markham. “Oh, yes, certainly. I
greatly appreciate your concern for me.”

The bishop beamed
at her. “I understand that you need guidance,” he said. “Be assured that I will
be glad to assist you.”

“I thank you, sir,”
said Letitia, reflecting on what a very silly man he was. The likelihood of her
turning to him for advice was almost nonexistent.

Eynsford, although
giving some of his attention to James, was also pondering the situation. He
watched surreptitiously as the bishop chatted merrily to Lady Morgan. What a
fool, he thought savagely. That Lady Morgan should have to support the
attentions of that fat, blithering idiot was offensive to him. It was
abundantly clear that Letitia was being courted, and he was equally aware that
she was not interested.

Phillip wished very
much that he could let the bishop know exactly who he was, but circumstances
made this difficult. He knew he had already come perilously close to revealing
himself; he had acted as no solicitor would, and, although Lady Morgan had
apparently not remarked on it, he was certain that Dr. Wolfe had found his
behavior odd. Let him, Eynsford thought angrily.

“I must be going,
James,” he said rather abruptly. “I will see you another day.” Crossing over to
where Letitia sat he said his farewells to her and to Dr. Wolfe rather stiffly.
He thought he detected a worried look on Lady Morgan's face, and attempted to
reassure her by giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he bent over it.

Eynsford stalked
back to where he had left Chisholm and his curricle, his thoughts in
considerable turmoil. The idea that the bishop would return to Letitia’s house
with her made him livid. The mental picture of the bishop sitting next to
Letitia in her drawing room horrified him. The mere thought that Lady Morgan
might be courted by anyone else made him furious. And yet, he reflected, why
should that be? He was not courting her himself.

Chisholm watched
him approach with a sinking heart. It was evident to him that his master was in
a towering rage, and that impression was confirmed when this lordship mounted
the curricle without a word and directed the horses out of the gardens at a
rapid pace. The groom folded his arms over his chest and sat back; it was going
to be a fast drive back to Mayfair.