Letitia had a great
deal to think about when she returned to her house. She had no intention of
marrying Dr. Wolfe, so she felt that his attentions, while annoying, were
harmless. What had, however, unsettled her, was Mr. Markham. The contrast
between the solicitor and the bishop could not be greater, and it dawned upon
her how much she valued Mr. Markham’s candid and amusing conversation and his
calm good sense.
She had thought him
merely a man she could trust to be honest with her and to give her
disinterested advice, but the bishop's insinuations now made her revisit this. The
only other men she trusted as she did him were her long dead father and Lord
Exencour, but Mr. Markham made her feel a way neither her father nor Lord
Exencour had ever made her feel; happy and carefree, and certainly not like a
widow with two children. She pressed a hand to her lips. He made her feel, she
realized, rather as she had when she was first engaged to Alfred.
“Oh no,” she
murmured. Then she shook her head. This was nonsense. Mr. Markham was a
diversion, and it was foolish of her to imagine that she had any such feelings
towards him. She was simply grateful for his companionship and his affection
for her children. She must be lonely indeed if she fancied herself feeling
strong emotions for a man just because he was kind to her.
“I will go to
dinner with Isobel soon,” she said out loud. “I have shut myself away too much
and now I am having foolish ideas as a result.” She nodded. Staying busy would
doubtless put these sentimental thoughts out of her head.
The evening after
Isobel met the bishop at Letty’s home, Lord and Lady Exencour were to attend
the opera. As their carriage rattled through the streets of London, Lady
Exencour turned to her husband.
“I visited Letty
this afternoon,” she said.
“And how is Lady
Morgan faring?” asked Lord Exencour.
“Quite well. I
think Kensington suits her perfectly, though I must say I should be terribly
bored. The children are thriving and Letitia looks remarkably beautiful. She
has lost that pinched look she had after Alfred died.”
“He has been dead
for months now, and it is not as though she ever had much to mourn. By now the
shock and distress must be mitigated, and with the worst of her financial
problems behind her she likely looks forward to a brighter future,” observed
Lord Exencour.
“I think so indeed.
And only imagine, Francis! She has a suitor!” exclaimed Lady Exencour.
“A suitor? Did you
finally manage to introduce her to Phillip?” teased her husband.
Isobel laughed. “No,
I did not, more’s the pity. Eynsford would be vastly preferable to this fellow.
He is a bishop, no less, and very pleased with himself. He is a school fellow
of Bainstall’s, and, while he is not as cold as my lord, he is every bit as
foolish and self-important.”
“He sounds
dreadful,” agreed Lord Exencour. “You do not mean to tell me that Letitia is
encouraging him?”
“Not at all,” said
Isobel. “But he is a very difficult man to discourage, apparently. He seems to
think that Letitia must feel very lucky to be courted by a gentleman of his
circumstances and station and harbors no doubts that she will marry him.”
“Then I imagine he
will find the outcome something of a disappointment,” said Lord Exencour. “I
suppose that Letitia will send him on his way soon enough.”
“Yes, I am sure she
will, and yet it is very vexing for her,” said Isobel. “She cannot refuse to
marry him before he asks, and until then she must tolerate his presence, for he
absolutely refuses to believe she is not entertaining his suit. This will only
serve to confirm her suspicions of noble gentlemen: first Alfred is a cad, then
her cousin is oppressive and now this bishop is insensitive. It is altogether
too bad.”
“You should see if
you can entice her to go out in company a little more,” observed Lord Exencour.
“That would surely be unexceptionable now that Alfred has been dead six months.
Perhaps she could attend a concert with us or some such thing. That would keep
her mind off her bishop, certainly, and mayhap she will even meet someone she
prefers.”
Isobel looked
thoughtful. “I had the same thought, and I pressed her to come to dinner
sometime soon. It would be a very good thing if she were to go out a bit. She
has apparently met a solicitor and has become quite friendly with him. She
thinks highly of him and asks his advice on many topics, and while I am sure he
is most respectable, it would not do for people to suspect he is paying too
much attention to her. If she had more of a social life and a few other callers
she might not feel the need to rely on him so.”
“A solicitor?”
asked Lord Exencour. “You have not mentioned this before, I believe?”
“No,” agreed
Isobel, “and that worries me as well. It seems she has known him some time and
has not told me of him. Letitia was not wont to keep such secrets from me.”
“What, do you
suspect Letty of engaging in an illicit
affaire
?” asked Lord Exencour in
surprise. “That hardly seems to be in her usual style.”
“Oh no, not at all,”
said Isobel. “I am simply curious as to what he is like; Letitia does not give
her trust easily. I must get her to introduce him to me. I am very curious to
see what sort of man Letitia feels she can place her trust in.”
“What is his name?”
asked Lord Exencour. “Perhaps our man of business knows of him.”
Isobel thought for
a moment. “Mr. Phillip Markham, I believe she said.”
“I will find out if
anyone knows of him,” said Lord Exencour. “But you should not worry,” he said.
“It hardly sounds as though their friendship has reached any extraordinary
level of intimacy.”
“You are right, my
dear,” said Isobel. “I am doubtless worrying over nothing. Still, it will do no
harm if we encourage Letitia to go about. I will be so happy to have her
company again.”
By this time the
opera had been reached, and in the bustle of alighting from the coach, entering
the building, greeting their friends, and making their way to their box, all
thoughts of Letitia were banished. The opera itself was not a success, but the
audience was highly fashionable, and much amusement could be gained from
studying the ladies’ toilettes and surveying the other boxes for acquaintances.
In the interval Lord Eynsford came to the Exencour’s box to converse.
“Phillip!”
exclaimed Lord Francis. “What a pleasure. It has been some time since I have
seen you at White’s or driving in the park.”
“Yes, I have been
somewhat absent lately,” agreed the marquess. “I have had matters to attend to
that have required considerable time spent with my man of business.”
“I have missed you,”
said Lord Exencour. “It sometimes seems as though sensible conversation is the
hardest thing to come by in London. Only yesterday I was buttonholed by young
Charles Worthington, who nearly caused me to expire of
ennui
. He was
wearing the most extraordinary suit--it was made very inexpensively and
resembled something a superior clerk might wear. He claimed you had been seen
sporting just such a suit and it was now all the crack.”
A look of amusement
appeared in Lord Eynsford’s eyes. “How remarkable,” he said. “Worthington
claimed I was dressing like a man of business? I did have a new coat made, but
I imagine Weston would not be complimented to hear it so described.”
Lord Exencour
laughed. “No, I think not. I could not imagine where he had gotten this
information, but he was quite serious. I suppose we can expect all the young
sprigs of fashion to go about dressed very badly for some time now.”
Eynsford took a
pinch of snuff with an air, glancing down at his impeccably cut coat. “I
certainly hope they do not tell everyone that they are emulating me,” he said
plaintively. “I can conceive of nothing that might be more damaging to my
reputation and that of my valet.”
“If the trend
continues, perhaps I will have one made for myself,” said Lord Exencour with a
laugh. “Surely you will refer me to your tailor?”
Lord Eynsford
bowed. “With great good will,” he said. He was much amused at the thought of
the young gentlemen of London copying his mode of dress, but he was also
annoyed that he had been seen and recognized. The masquerade was becoming
perilous; it only needed now for someone to see him in Kensington Gardens or in
Lady Morgan's company for the mischief to be done. Still, he did not want his
friendship with Lady Morgan to end. He would have to think of some way to
reveal to her his identity without alarming her.
“Do you know a
solicitor named Markham, by any chance?” asked Lord Exencour.
Lord Eynsford
started visibly. He directed a sharp look at his friend, but Exencour’s face
was empty of all but mild curiosity.
“I am sorry,” said
the marquess. “My thoughts were still with clothing. What was the name again?”
“Markham,” said
Lord Exencour.
“That does not
sound familiar to me, but then, I am acquainted with very few solicitors,” said
Lord Eynsford. “Is there some reason you think I might know him?”
“I was merely
curious,” said Lord Exencour. “It seems Lady Morgan has made a friend of him,
and Isobel is, naturally, protective of her. I hope to find someone who knows
of him so that we can be sure of his respectability.”
“Markham,” repeated
Lord Eynsford. “No, I am afraid I do not know him. My man of business deals
with my legal affairs, and so I do not often come into contact with solicitors.”
“Nor do I,” said
Lord Exencour. “I will have to check with mine, and, of course, Isobel’s. Mr.
Askworth has practiced law in this city many years; I am sure he will have
heard of this man.”
“Are you so
concerned?” asked the marquess. “Surely Lady Morgan would not befriend someone
who might harm her?”
“I imagine there is
nothing in it at all,” said Lord Exencour. “However, I do feel an obligation to
protect Lady Morgan, who I consider a great friend, from someone who might be
attempting to use her to his advantage. I merely mean to satisfy myself and
Isobel that all is well.”
“I will be seeing
my solicitor tomorrow,” volunteered Lord Eynsford. “I could speak to him for
you, and save you the trouble of searching out this fellow.”
“How generous of
you, Phillip. But it is not necessary; I would be loathe to put you out.”
“I have already
made an appointment with the man, and this will take no special effort,”
persisted Lord Eynsford. “It will be a pleasure to render this small service to
Lady Exencour. You must remember that I have some little interest in Lady
Morgan. I would also like to be easy in my mind.”
Lord Exencour gave
him a shrewd look. He knew Lord Eynsford to be a thoughtful friend, but his
interest in this topic seemed extreme. “I thank you, Phillip,” he said. There was
a slight pause. “Markham,” said Lord Exencour again. “That is not unlike your
own family name, Masham. And the fellow’s first name is also Phillip. How very
odd.”
“Odd, indeed,” said
Lord Eynsford, looking away from Francis' inquiring gaze. “But that will insure
that I do not forget the name. Surely a man with such a pleasant name must be
respectable and cannot pose a danger to Lady Morgan. How does she otherwise?”
“All seems to be
well, barring the unwelcome attentions of a bishop,” said Lord Exencour. “It
seems Lady Morgan is being courted.”
“Indeed?” said Lord
Eynsford. “So soon after her husband’s death?”
“The gentleman in
question has apparently arranged matters with Lady Morgan’s cousin, and seems
to feel the issue is settled. The only fly in the ointment seems to be Lady
Morgan herself, who sees fit to find fault with the bishop,” said Lord
Exencour. “Bainstall does not credit her with a mind of her own, I am afraid.”
The marquess fought
down the urge to make a rather strong comment on the meddling ways of Baron
Bainstall. “How unfortunate,” he said. “I am sure Lady Morgan will extricate
herself, however.”
“Certainly,”
responded Lord Exencour. “Let us hope that legal assistance is not required in
the matter,” he continued, giving Eynsford a quizzical look.
The marquess
refused to rise to the bait, however, merely responding with a look of blank
surprise. “Unless Lady Morgan has given the bishop reason to believe his suit
has prospered I hardly think a breach of promise suit likely. How could she
need legal assistance in dealing with her suitor?”
They were now
joined by Lady Exencour, who smiled prettily on Lord Eynsford before turning to
her husband with a censorious look.
“Fie on you,
Francis, for abandoning me to Richard Pakenham. He has been droning on these
ten minutes and I am bored to tears,” she said.
Lord Exencour
smiled at her. “He is so obviously enamored of you, my dear, that I could not
bring myself to ruin his pleasure by intruding my husbandly presence.”
“What is the good
of being married, I ask you, if not to keep unwanted beaux away?” asked Isobel.
“You really must perform your duties more ably, Francis. I am sure that the two
of you have had a vastly more interesting conversation than I, and all because
you so cruelly abandoned me to Mr. Pakenham.”
“We have been
discussing Lady Morgan’s situation,” said Lord Exencour. “Eynsford is visiting
his solicitor tomorrow and has kindly offered to speak to him about the
mysterious Mr. Markham. I am sure he will be able to bring us reassuring news.”
He directed an inquiring look at the marquess, who looked somewhat discomfited.
“How kind of you,
my lord,” said Isobel. “You will think I am very silly, but I will be pleased
to have my worries put aside.”
“I appreciate your
concern for your friend,” said the marquess, and, although he meant the words,
he could not help thinking that it would be easier for him if Lady Exencour
were less devoted to Lady Morgan.
Lord Eynsford did
not stay for the second act, but instead returned to his home, where he immediately
repaired to the library and poured himself a brandy. The situation was becoming
perilous, he reflected. He had been seen dressed in his disguise, and, if he
guessed correctly, Lord Exencour had probably divined his secret. While Francis
seemed inclined to take it all in good part, many others would surely not, and
Exencour’s good will would only last as long as his charade did Letitia no
harm.
He did not want to
distress Lady Exencour, for whom he had real respect and affection, and he most
particularly did not wish to create problems for Lady Morgan. If someone else
were to discover his secret, tongues would doubtless begin to wag and the
reputation that would suffer most would be the lady's. A widow of only a few
months, in straitened circumstances, seen to be encouraging one of the greatest
catches on the Marriage Mart, would doubtless be grist for many a mill. He
sighed deeply, and Foxer once again approached to offer comfort.