The Pursuit of Pleasure (20 page)

But she looked anything but amused. She looked bereft.

Hatless, with her sweet, sun-flecked hair left down, tangling in the wind. She stood there alone, as the other mourners, his parents as well as hers, allowed themselves to be led out of the wind and away from the brown mound of dirt poised in the churchyard. But Lizzie stayed. She stood there so still and unmoving as the wind whipped and mangled her skirts.

She looked exquisite—a fragile figurine—the unremitting black of her clothes only served to highlight the exquisite porcelain translucence of her skin and the vivid red of her uncovered, loose hair. But her face was screwed flat, with a horrible tension, as if she were afraid to move lest she fall into pieces. Mrs. Tupper hovered close behind her. Lizzie held herself upright, stiff and brittle as if she would break.

It killed him to watch her, the pain a tight knot in his chest. He couldn’t bear to see her, to watch her crumble with grief. Grief he had knowingly caused. Astonishing grief. He had not thought it would come to this, had not thought it possible. Not from Lizzie. She was unassailable, impenetrable.

He’d had no idea she would be affected so deeply.

What in the hell had he done?

A hot dry hole was burning its way through his windpipe. But he didn’t put the telescope down. He owed her at least that much respect after using her so callously.

C
HAPTER 12

L
izzie insisted they return to Glass Cottage. Though it seemed every voice was against her, she could not countenance staying away. Even with Mr. and Mrs. Tupper adding their quiet conviction that she would be best off staying at Hightop, or taking a house in Dartmouth, Lizzie could hear none of it. She needed the peace and solitude of her house by the sea and the freedom to come and go as she pleased. It was as necessary as air.

And strangely enough, the necessity of exertion, of having to consider the feelings and needs of others, had brought her a good ways back to herself. While she had no desire for the constant companionship others seemed to think she needed, she did understand she needed the exertion—needed to think and feel about something other than herself.

She would resume her efforts to restore Glass Cottage and to make the estate profitable. There was no better way for her to honor Jamie’s legacy to her. She would make him proud.

Yet, no sooner had she ridden up and seen to Serendipity than her peace was interrupted.

Lizzie was astonished into politeness at the courtesy of a condolence call. Not from her parents, nor the Reverend and Mrs. Marlowe, but her aunt-in-law, Lady Mary Wroxham, accompanied by her son, the Honorable Jeremy. They had been at the funeral, as Jamie’s near relations, but she had not expected this.

“My dear girl!” Lady Wroxham took Lizzie’s hands between her own. “I could not bear to think of you, all alone out here. I knew I must come to you, as my sister, in her grief, could not.”

“I thank you, your ladyship,” was all Lizzie could think to say.

“Not at all, my dear. One must be able to rely on family in times of difficulty, and I would have you know you may rely upon me. And of course on your cousin Wroxham.”

Cousin
Wroxham? But for once the gentleman was all correct politeness.

“My dear cousin, I am sorry for your loss,” he said with every indication of sincerity.

“Thank you. I would offer you refreshment, but I am chagrined to say we are not as yet set up to receive or entertain visitors.”

“No, of course not,” Lady Wroxham agreed with a kind smile, as she took in the empty rooms. “How could you be, in such a derelict property? Yes, I don’t mind telling you, my nephew, Captain Marlowe, quite astonished us all when he bought the place. I don’t know what he was thinking.”

“I believe he was thinking it was charming.”

“Ah, yes. How like him to be so nonsensical.”

Lizzie could feel the corners of her mouth turn up in the beginnings of a smile. “Yes,” she agreed. “How very like him.”

“But now, of course, you will no doubt be thinking of selling the place and getting something more suitable to a lady’s needs.”

“But I find it very suitable to my needs. And why does everyone persist in this belief? I have no intention of selling.”

“Actually,” Wroxham contradicted mildly, “it is rather clever of you to want to keep the property. A landed property will always have value and provide you income, even when you live elsewhere.”

“Oh, how clever you are to see that, my dear.” Lady Wroxham smiled lovingly at her son.

“But I don’t intend to live elsewhere,” Lizzie persisted. “Why should I?”

Wroxham astonished her by speaking, not with his usual lacerating sarcasm, but with quiet grace. “Because you are young and beautiful, and despite your recent bereavement, you will remain young and beautiful for quite some time. It is expected at your age and stage of life that you should want to see and experience more of the world than secluded country living should have to offer.”

Lizzie did not know whether or not to be flattered by Wroxham’s praise. Certainly she was
meant
to be, but to what purpose?

“Yes, now that you have independence, you will want to join society,” Lady Wroxham was encouraging. “Oh, I know Dartmouth is nothing compared to town, and a season there of course, but who knows? Perhaps our local amusements might whet your appetite for a London season after all. Really, it is the very thing you need—a change of scene.”

“I am but newly bereaved.…” It was almost bizarre to hear such a prim excuse come out of her mouth—she who had never cared for propriety or appearances. “You will forgive me, but it hardly seems an appropriate time for gadding about.”

“Oh, but you may take advantage of the change of scene without anyone remarking on anything unseemly in your behavior. I know just how it is to be done, for Sir William Wroxham is always to be found in town, and I am very conversant in the ways of London society.”

It was more of the same litany she had endured for the past several days and it was more than enough. There was no harm in it, of course, but it was excessively wearying. And it made her long for the peace and silence of an empty home.

Lizzie put on what surely must be a rather wretched face—people had been telling her she looked awful for days—and begged their leave. “I hope you will forgive me….”

Wroxham stepped forward to offer her his hand. “We’ve tired you.”

It was a relief to answer honestly. “Yes, forgive me. I do wish I was able to offer you some hospitality after your long drive out, but I am afraid …” She let her words trail off.

He drew her to her feet and gave her his arm to escort her to the stairs.

“It pains me to see you so,” he murmured as soon as they were out of earshot of his mother.

“Oh. Well then, don’t look.”

Wroxham chuckled. “Now,
that
is certainly much more in your normal style.”

Lizzie merely shrugged, uneasy that Wroxham should feel confident enough about her to remark upon her normal style of conversation.

“But you know, it cannot be good for you to be out here all alone,” he continued in all seriousness. “You had best find accommodations in the town.”

“I am hardly alone. I have servants.”

“A crippled manservant and his wife? They hardly qualify. I do not even see them about. You have no one to attend to you as you must need.”

Lizzie made no response. His opinion of the Tuppers was of no account to her, for she knew their true worth. As had Jamie.

“And what will people think with you insisting on staying all alone?”

Lizzie felt her fragile strength begin to rise along with her temper. Strange, how anger made it all so much easier. Anger focused things right down to what was absolutely necessary. “People will
think,
if they think at all, that I am newly and greatly bereaved.”

“Perhaps. But perhaps they will think you stay for the freedom, for the privacy to do as you please. And with whomever you please.”

For a moment, he had had her. For a moment she had been taken in by his apparent insight into her feelings, but with every word, Wroxham seemed to be returning to
his
usual style of conversation.

“Perhaps,” she said as coolly as she could. She did want the freedom, but not in the vulgar way he implied.

Yet she could detect no sarcasm, no cynicism in his tone or look when he replied.

“I meant what I said. You are a beautiful woman, Elizabeth. Too beautiful to hide yourself out here and bury yourself in widowhood.”

She slid her arm from his and would have moved away, but he caught her by the wrist and continued, his voice urgent and low.

“You must know I admire you. You must. I cannot imagine your marriage to Marlowe was a love match, but it gave you what you needed—money, this house. But I can give you standing, a place in society, everything you could want.”

His confession jolted Lizzie as nothing else could have. Here was his reason for years of rude behavior? This was his declaration? He had been jealous. He continued to be. Jealous of a dead man. It explained a great deal, but excused very little. Still, his admission smothered her burgeoning rage. She could feel little beyond pity.

“I am sorry, Wroxham,” she said as gently as she could. “But what I want is my husband back.”

Lizzie was not surprised her would-be suitor and his lady mother left directly. The barouche bowled away down the drive before Tupper could even arrive to shut the door behind them, which he did with some apparent satisfaction.

“I take it you don’t approve, Mr. Tupper.”

“Captain said the house was to be closed. Knocker’s off the door and still they came.” He shook his head.

“I’m sure they meant to be kind.”

Mr. Tupper was as eloquent as he was blunt. He made a sound of utter disbelief. “Nah. Don’t like ‘em at all, especially the lady. Like a cat sniffing in the gutters that one is. And her son no better. Glad to see the back of that one.”

“Mr. Wroxham? He’s harmless.” Though she was glad of his departure as well, she was warmed by Tupper’s partiality. “Do you not think so?”

“That one? I shouldn’t trust his arse with a fart.”

It occurred to her, as she retreated to the library, Wroxham and his mother’s visit was most likely an early indication of the way her peace was going to be cut up if she did not rouse herself and her staff to take an active part in discouraging visitors.

Which exertion would also give her the added benefit of staying too busy to brood. She didn’t have to be happy, but she did need to be active or she would … She didn’t want to think about what she would be.

“Mr. Tupper,” she called, “I should like to see all the household and estate accounts, if you please. And then together, I think we should make an inventory of the rest of the repairs needed. And before I devise a budget for the repairs and even furnishing of the rooms, I think it wisest to consult all the other ledgers concerning the income from the farms and the property as a whole. Don’t you agree?” She paused to smile at him, but gave him no time to disagree.

If he was surprised by her request, he hid it with resigned compliance. “Yes, ma’am. But I do think you’ll find it best to do as the Captain planned and close the house. Ledgers’ll show you how expensive your repairs will be.”

“Yes, thank you for your advice.” To which she didn’t want to listen. Why could she not make anyone understand, she
needed
to be there? She needed to be busy. She needed to feel connected to Jamie. It was the only thing that might keep her sane.

She neatly changed the subject. “And speaking of Captain Marlowe and the navy, Mr. Tupper, I desire to meet the rest of the servants.”

A look Lizzie could only characterize as wariness crept across Tupper’s worn, brown face. “There are no other servants, ma’am. Surely Captain Marlowe explained that? He expected the house to be kept closed up.”

She attempted to cajole his caution away. “Yes, yes. Captain Marlowe did inform me of his plans. He also informed me there were groundsmen. Jack-of-all-tradesmen, I believe he called them. Now, if we’re to have any peace, we’ll need everyone to keep a sharp lookout for unwanted visitors like the Wroxhams, don’t you think? So what about that big, blond lad I saw about the other day? He looked as if he would be handy at warning people off.” She tried to smile pleasantly to leaven her insistence.

“That’d be Hugh, ma’am.”

“Hugh. Good. I should like to meet him. And the other?”

“The other what, ma’am?”

“Mr. Tupper, I do appreciate your loyalty to the Captain, I do, and I am well aware of the Captain’s feelings regarding the house being unfit for occupation, but as I also told him and Mrs. Tupper, I’m here now and things are going to be different. And there is, by everyone’s reckoning, a vast deal to do. I
can
make it better, I promise. You’ll see.”

Lizzie could feel, rather than hear, his sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you. And the other groundsman? The Captain said there were two, I believe?”

“He’s not here at the moment, Ma’am.”

Mr. Tupper was hedging, she could tell. Every time he told an untruth he bobbed his chin down quick. Poor fellow. Obviously he was not a man accustomed to lying. It spoke well of his character, though it did make her wonder, and worry, why he was lying now.

“And pray, where is he, if he is not here?”

“Gone for supplies. Building materials and the like. Into Dartmouth.” Three emphatic bobs of the head, confirming his statements. Not only curious but, to her mind, highly suspicious.

“Lovely. I’ll see him when he gets back, but the first one, Hugh, you may send to me at your earliest convenience. In the meantime, I should like to have a look through all the ledgers.”

“All the ledgers, ma’am?”

“All. I think it best, don’t you? Hard work is best tackled straight off. You may bring in them to me directly.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lizzie found the exertion of closing her mind to the sorrow felt oddly like contentment. She looked at the neat rows of her books, stacked tidily on their dust-free shelves, and let the fragile beginnings of peace and contentment wash over her. Despite Jamie’s death, this was what a home, her home, was meant to be. She began to believe, for the first time, that she might just survive. She might just succeed. She might, in time, be happy.