‘Forgive me,’ Lord Maples said with charming contrition as the boy departed, ‘I hope I did not seem officious. I sometimes express my opinion a little too freely.’
‘Nonsense,’ Dorinda declared. ‘I have told Elizabeth the same I know not how many times. The boy needs a father. And you,’ she continued, directing a stern look at the object of her censure, ‘need a husband, whatever you may pretend to the contrary.’
Elizabeth controlled herself with an effort. ‘I have already been married once,’ she said, seating herself with great ceremony on a nearby chair. ‘Surely one husband is enough for any woman? Let those who never attempted the matrimonial state have their chance. I would not wish to be thought greedy, after all!’
Dorinda shook her head. ‘You see how she is, Lord Maples? She will not be serious.’
‘Perhaps,’ he said, rubbing his chin reflectively, ‘it is merely that the lady has not been approached by the right gentleman.’
Elizabeth returned his knowing smile with a very cold one of her own. ‘Whenever I am fortunate enough to meet such a man,’ she said, ‘be sure that I will not hesitate to accept him. Until then, I am perfectly content.’
‘And Nicky?’ Dorinda insisted.
‘Dear sister,’ Elizabeth answered, really annoyed now, ‘this horse has been flogged once too often. Let it rest in peace, I beg you.’
‘Very well. I am silent - for the present.’
‘Now, if you will excuse me, Lord Maples, I believe that I shall go up to my room to rest awhile before supper.’ Elizabeth stood and made a move towards the door. ‘There is no need to accompany me,’ she added, for Dorinda’s benefit, as her sister had also risen. ‘I know my way quite well.’
‘Pray do not stay on my account, Lady Barrowe,’ the gentleman pronounced magnanimously. ‘I, too, shall repair to my chamber in preparation for the evening ahead. I am sure that you ladies will wish for a comfortable coze in private.’
‘You are too kind, sir,’ Dorinda gushed, causing Elizabeth to pinch her arm. Elizabeth almost dragged her sister from the room in her haste to put as much space as possible between herself and the viscount.
* * * *
‘Did you
have
to invite that man here?’ Elizabeth enquired, when they were safely behind the door of her bedchamber.
‘Really, Lizzy!’ Dorinda perched herself on the wide ledge of the window like a curious wren. ‘I am astonished at you. One of the most eligible bachelors in England comes to my house for no other reason than to be near you - and you act as though you were being led to the guillotine.’
‘At least with the guillotine, death would be swift and relatively painless,’ Elizabeth retorted. ‘Which I find infinitely more attractive than the prolonged torture of Oswald’s company.’
‘You cannot be serious.’ Dorinda looked quite shocked.
Elizabeth came to join her in the window embrasure. ‘If only you would learn not to meddle, dear sister,’ she said.
‘But his pursuit of you has been so marked,’ Dorinda protested. ‘Sally Jersey herself wrote to me that all the news from London is of your approaching betrothal. I made sure you were ready to accept him.’
Taking Dorinda’s hands in her own, Elizabeth gave a rueful smile. ‘You ought not to believe everything you hear, Dorrie. Particularly from Lady Jersey, who may be well-meaning but is hardly a bosom friend of mine and not at all acquainted with my desires or plans. Oswald has indeed been pursuing me - a necessary consequence of my fleeing from him. But it seems impossible to escape what has become a form of persecution, with my own sister deserting to the enemy camp and conspiring to entrap me.’
‘I cannot understand it,’ Dorinda declared. Her countenance reflected blank confusion. ‘He is so very handsome. Even you cannot deny that, Lizzy. Such a figure! Such an air! How can you remain insensible of his attraction?’
Elizabeth laughed outright at this panegyric. ‘It seems that you are the one who has conceived a decided
tendre
for this Apollo. Alastair had best beware.’
‘You are the most vexatious creature!’ the other cried, obviously much put out. ‘I was so certain that I had found the perfect man for you. Any other woman in your position would be in ecstasy.’
‘No sensible woman would be for long - if she made the mistake of marrying him.’
Dorinda stood up rather stiffly. ‘He is quite charming, Lizzy, but you will not allow yourself to admit it.’ She stopped, placing one hand lightly on her sister’s shoulder. ‘My dear,’ she went on more gently, ‘I know your experience of men and matrimony has not been a happy one. But you must endeavour to put that behind you now and look to the future.’
‘With Lord Maples?’ Elizabeth asked, catching the hand and rising herself, the two of them framed in the afternoon sunlight shining through the window behind. ‘Believe me, Oswald is not the man to tempt me to marriage again. He is handsome enough, I grant you, but he is also conceited, arrogant, unctuous and stubborn.’
‘Surely you exaggerate?’
‘No,’ she insisted, adding, ‘Nicky does not like him either, you know. So there is no question of anything between us but the most tepid of friendships.’
Dorinda looked grave. ‘Would you allow Nicky to prevent you from marrying where you choose?’
‘Why not?’ Elizabeth smiled. ‘My son is an excellent judge of character. In this case, however, I am following my own inclination. I am certain that Oswald would make a most disagreeable husband.’
Dorinda sighed, but appeared to be resigned. ‘I fear,’ she said slowly, ‘that you will never permit any man to breach those walls you have built around your heart, my dear. Gerald is dead and should be forgotten.’
On that note, she quit the room. It was only after she was gone that Elizabeth recalled that Dorinda had given her no satisfactory explanation for Alastair’s absence. It was altogether an unsettling beginning to her visit.
The two ladies were the first to go down for supper. Elizabeth had seen that Nicky was taken care of and had promised to look in on him before retiring. Her maid, Janet, had done an excellent job tonight, and Elizabeth knew that she was looking her best in a blue silk gown with a lace collar cut low across the bosom. Her golden curls were arranged
a la Venus.
She hoped that Oswald would not construe this as an attempt to impress him, but doubted that his vanity was capable of supposing anything else.
‘Lord Maples is a trifle tardy,’ Dorinda remarked, tapping her slippered foot impatiently on the elaborately patterned carpet. She was well turned-out herself in salmon pink and carrying a pretty silver fan.
‘He is probably undecided as to which method of tying his cravat best becomes him.’ Her sister treated her to a glance so censorious that it provoked a reluctant smile. ‘Do not fret yourself, Dorrie. He is not late at all. In fact, if you will consult that enormous clock above the mantel, you will find that it is we who are early.’
‘So we are. How vexatious!’
‘You had hoped to be late, then?’
‘Punctuality is so - so
outré -
nowadays. I hope my guest will not consider me hopelessly provincial.’
‘I believe it is perfectly acceptable for a hostess. If you like, though, you can always explain to Oswald when he arrives that you only just entered the room yourself.’
Dorinda frowned. ‘Had I realized the time, I would not have left Selina so quickly.’
‘How is Selina getting on?’ Elizabeth asked, sobering at once.
Dorinda informed her that her niece was resting fairly comfortably, and that her fever was not pronounced. She was anxious, naturally - but not excessively so.
Elizabeth nodded, reasonably satisfied. ‘I only wish Alastair were here.’ She looked pointedly at Dorinda. ‘Even Oswald will have his hands full entertaining
two
ladies.’
‘Oh, good heavens!’ Dorinda exclaimed, placing a delicate palm against her forehead in apparent consternation. ‘I quite forgot to inform you that we shall have another guest with us this evening.’
Elizabeth’s brows rose in surprise. ‘Alas,’ she said, ‘your memory was never the best. I assume our guest is of the masculine gender. Have you persuaded the vicar to attend us in Alastair’s stead?’
Lady Barrowe seated herself upon the sofa and motioned her sister to do the same. ‘Now, that
would
be shabby treatment on your first evening here,’ she said, grinning mischievously. ‘It is far better than the vicar.’
‘From your tone, I expect no less than the Prince Regent himself.’
‘It is none other than the new owner of Lammerton Hall!’
‘Indeed,’ Elizabeth answered, her curiosity aroused. ‘I noticed as we drove past today that someone had restored the Hall. But come, tell me about your new neighbour before he arrives. What sort of man is he?’
Dorinda drew closer, the better to divulge her confidences. ‘My dear, he is the answer to a scandalmonger’s prayer. A London merchant, fabulously - even, one might say, disgustingly - wealthy. Every unmarried female in the country is setting her cap at him.’
‘How deliciously vulgar!’ Elizabeth was instantly diverted. ‘But is it possible that such a man can still be single?’
‘Not only single,’ Dorinda said, warming to her theme, ‘but quite young as well. I should be astonished if he is a day more than three-and-thirty. And he is the most amazingly handsome man.’
Elizabeth chuckled softly. ‘What? Have I not one but
two
paragons of masculinity to contend with tonight? But,’ she said, turning a quizzing look upon Dorinda, ‘did you not say he was a merchant? Can such a common fellow compare to the divine Oswald?’
‘You do not deceive me with your innocent airs, Lizzy,’ Dorinda said repressively. ‘I know when I am being roasted.’
‘Forgive me.’ Elizabeth was only mildly contrite. ‘Tell me more about this
cit
of yours.’
‘I own that when we first learned that our new neighbour had made his fortune from trade, we were not best pleased,’ Dorinda confessed, with charmingly unconscious condescension. ‘But we very soon changed our minds. He is a most worthy man, and I really think that there are a number of eligible girls hereabouts who would be very fortunate indeed to attach such a man - although I have not yet seen him display a decided partiality for any of them.’
‘Poor man.’ Elizabeth shook her head sadly. ‘I see that he is to be yet another sacrifice on the altar of your matchmaking schemes. Is he proving a reluctant victim?’
Dorinda preserved a dignified countenance. ‘I will not be drawn, Lizzy,
however much you bait me. I see no reason why I should not... guide
Mr Markham in his search for an acceptable bride. He is not at all encroaching, I assure you - no mushroom, indeed. Why, even Alastair acknowledges that he is quite the gentleman, and I am sure he would be well received even if he were not as rich as Croesus.’
The latter part of this speech was quite lost upon Elizabeth. At the mention of their neighbour’s name, her mild curiosity had metamorphosed into the wildest speculation. Surely it could not be the same man! The name was not so uncommon. The age was about right; but
he
had been a mere clerk....
‘Did you’ - she almost choked on the words as they rose to her lips - ‘did you say
Markham?’
‘Yes, I did. Oh, look! Why, here he is!’ Dorinda exclaimed, rising at once to meet her guest, who was at that very moment being admitted by Frakes, the butler. ‘Punctual almost to the minute, Mr Markham.’
‘Good evening, Lady Barrowe,’ the gentleman said, coming forward with a smile. This faded abruptly, however, when he spied Elizabeth.
She stood behind Dorinda on legs which were so unsteady that she doubted their ability to support her. She scarcely attended to the introductions - so calm, so unsuspecting - which, had her younger sister but known it, were quite unnecessary.
Elizabeth had been shocked upon finding Lord Maples here at Merrywood, but this latest surprise was such as nearly to deprive her of her senses. As she met the hard, glittering gaze of Mr Dominick Markham, she felt certain that she was about to swoon. Never had she felt so agitated, so alarmed - so completely nonplussed. Was she dreaming? Was she mad? Or had fate played the most cruel of tricks upon her?
Dorinda, chattering happily away, might believe that Mr Markham was a stranger to her sister, but had she known the truth, that welcoming smile would have been wiped from her face in an instant. For Dominick Markham was all too familiar to Elizabeth. Those penetrating hazel eyes, the gleaming chestnut curls so like those of little Nicholas.... How could she not recognize the father of her own son?
Chapter 2
Elizabeth had heard it said that at the point of death one’s entire life passes before the eyes in an instant. She was now able to give some confirmation to this belief. She was not quite fortunate enough to expire, however. Nor was it an entire lifetime which she recalled in that incredible moment. It was but a single night, eight years ago - full eight years, almost to the day. Yet every detail of that fateful meeting flooded her mind with such force that it might have happened mere hours before.
It had all begun so innocently, rather in the manner that an unsuspecting visitor in some Alpine pass might call out to a friend, only to bring an avalanche crashing down upon their heads.
She had been returning from a visit with Dorinda. Rain began to fall, which was no uncommon occurrence in England. On a particularly difficult stretch of road, as her carriage rounded a sharp bend, the vehicle swerved suddenly and her coachman was unable to hold it steady. There was a loud crack as the wheel broke, a moment of utter confusion as everything turned topsy-turvy, and the body of the carriage slid sideways, coming to rest in a shallow ditch.
After the initial shock, Elizabeth realized that she had survived the accident unscathed. She was half lying on top of her maid, Janet, who was not so fortunate. The poor girl had been thrown up against the side as they tumbled over, and was moaning loudly. It did not take long to discover that Janet had injured her arm. Indeed, Elizabeth was much afraid that it was broken.
Helping her maid out of the overturned vehicle with as much care as their precarious position allowed, Elizabeth surveyed the damage to their vehicle. Her main concern was to seek medical attention for Janet as soon as possible.