A Scandalous Secret (16 page)

‘You damned, encroaching little shopkeeper!’ he bellowed.

The two men pressed forward, their bodies tensed, their fists raised and at the ready. Elizabeth could not believe what was happening. It was too absurd. She was about to witness a mill - in Salisbury Cathedral!

‘In God’s name,’ she implored them both, ‘remember where you are!’

Neither man paid any heed to her protest. No doubt each of them felt he had a score to settle with the other. This tempest had been brewing ever since their first meeting, and was now beyond the power of fine words to avert. Elizabeth could only stare in mute wonder as they closed with one another - having apparently forgotten her presence - and proceeded to enjoy a regular set-to. Fortunately, she was not forced to endure this promising match for very long. Lord Maples might have displayed a fine style, but Dominick was the more cunning fighter and quickly floored his opponent with one clean, flush hit.

‘No man,’ he said, breathing heavily, ‘calls this lady such names in my presence.’ He seemed to have forgotten that he had done much the same himself not so long ago.

Oswald, sprawled ignominiously on the floor, had little to do
but accept defeat with as much grace as he could muster. Getting slowly to his feet, he grudgingly offered his apologies, but could not resist enquiring, ‘Where did you learn to fight like that, sir?’

‘Not at the Daffy Club, I assure you,’ Dominick admitted. ‘I became acquainted with the art in the back alleys of Bridgewater.’

Elizabeth was thoroughly disgusted with both of them by now, although the chief of her wrath must be reserved for Oswald, who had provoked the entire scene. When he informed her that she need not fear he would divulge his knowledge, she was in no mood to be conciliatory.

‘Such magnanimity does you great credit, dear Oswald. And to show you that I hold no grudge, I will refrain from informing the world that you were roundly thrashed by an
encroaching little shopkeeper.’

Of all the things he had said, that had been the most unforgivable. How dare he sneer at Dominick, who was superior to him in every way? While both men were busy retrieving their discarded beaver hats, she could not resist adding this final shot: ‘I would also suggest, Lord Maples, that the next time you inform someone of your betrothal, you do the lady the courtesy of first obtaining her consent.’

They rejoined the rest of the party, who were just preparing to re-enter the cathedral in search of them. The others were quite horrified to observe Oswald’s swollen left eye, but failed to notice the somewhat dishevelled condition of the two gentlemen.

Gwendolyn, in particular, was all solicitude. She felt entirely to blame, she said. After all, it was she who had requested that Oswald go in search of Mr Markham. Indeed, she became rather cross with her betrothed.

‘I do not know what can have delayed you for so long,’ she complained. ‘It was foolish to be so concerned about Lady Dansmere.’ She turned now to Elizabeth. ‘Dominick would have it
that you were not well, ma’am, and insisted on returning to you. I told him it was no such thing. It is only that you are not so young as Enid and me, and tire more easily. Is that not so, ma’am?’

Elizabeth bit her lip, but managed to reply with tolerable solemnity, ‘Quite so, Miss Thornwood. I fear Mr Markham exerted himself for nothing.’

Gwendolyn continued to bemoan Oswald’s fate, and even insisted on treating his wound with her own fair hands. There was no raw steak at hand, but the small cart which contained their luncheon, and which was drawn up behind the landau, produced a cold ham. She used a slice of this to cover the discoloured eyelid.

‘How unlucky of you to have tripped over that uneven stone,’ she clucked, referring to the story which he had fabricated. She refused to be budged from his side, having taken upon herself the role of ministering angel. Without demur, she relinquished her former seat of honour in the carriage to Elizabeth.

As they pulled away from the cathedral, Elizabeth remained silent. She was almost afraid to speak to Dominick now that they were no longer alone. Gwendolyn, however, was doing quite enough talking for all of them, commiserating with the viscount
ad nauseam.
He made no objection, however, basking in the attention he gained as an interesting invalid.

* * * *

They presently found a suitable field not far from the tranquil banks of the Avon, where they might enjoy their wilderness party. While the coachman and another servant unloaded the victuals from the cart, the others dispersed to enjoy the sights around them.

Miss Thornwood helped Oswald to a seat in the shade of a convenient oak. Miss Penroth had brought her sketchbook, and attempted to capture in pencil the beauty of the scene before her. Peter did all he could to assist her efforts by standing beside her
and admiring every line before she drew it.

Elizabeth, accompanied by Dominick, wandered further afield, content merely to observe the yellow cowslips, pretty pink-spotted orchises and the milky-white flecks of elder-flowers which formed a small hedge on the westward extremity of their meadow. The shrill cry of a hovering kestrel sounded above them, while below, amongst the blossoms, bright blue butterflies flitted about like pieces of summer sky strayed down to earth. Today, Elizabeth could almost believe that the sky was falling.

She was once more alone with Dominick: well within sight of the others, but conveniently beyond their hearing.

‘How did you make your fortune, Dominick?’ she asked, wanting to learn all she could about this man she loved. So much must have happened in these lost years. So much had changed, and she knew so little of it. ‘You certainly were not a wealthy man when first we met.’

He paused a moment, possibly to catch the sudden burst of song from a hidden skylark. ‘Do you remember,’ he asked presently, ‘that I told you I had an uncle who had gone out to India?’

‘I remember every word we spoke that night.’

‘My dear—’ He moved towards her, but she checked his thoughtless action with a look and a twist of her wrist, tilting her parasol in the direction of their companions. ‘Well,’ he resumed, recovering himself in time, ‘he died but a few months after our meeting.’

‘Never tell me he had made a fortune in India!’

‘Not quite,’ he chuckled. ‘In truth, he was little better than a chicken nabob. But he did leave me enough to start a small business with a friend - making ink. Within two years, I owned my own company. Within five years, I had two other businesses, as well. In short, I became a wealthy man.’

‘It is all so fascinating,’ she said sincerely. She felt her heart swell
with admiration for this man who had come so far with so few advantages in life. How clever, how resourceful he must be!

‘It was but a combination of a great deal of hard work - and a little luck besides.’

‘I think you are too modest.’

He smiled, but disclaimed any such attribute.

‘And you decided to seek a suitable house in this part of Wiltshire.’

She watched his colour deepen as he replied, ‘Only because you mentioned that your sister lived here. You are not the only one who remembered that night so vividly. My only dream has been to find you again and make you my wife.’

‘You came here in search of a wife,’ Elizabeth said, looking towards the oak tree, ‘and you have indeed found one.’

He followed the direction of her gaze before commenting, ‘It was a foolish dream. Your world is too far removed from mine. Even had I been free ... it is absurd to imagine that a countess could ever wed a mere merchant.’

‘In due course, only a dowager countess,’ she corrected.

‘It amounts to the same thing.’

‘Do you really believe that I would have refused you, then?’ she asked incredulously.

‘I - I do not know.’ His eyes did not meet hers. ‘I would never have thought of asking you, once I knew your rank.’

She was angry - angry and pained that he should believe that she would allow such a thing to come between them.

‘The difference in our rank,’ she said, ‘appears to mean a great deal more to you than to myself. I wonder which of us is really more full of false pride?’

Not giving him a chance to respond, she turned and walked off through the rippling grass and wild flowers, startling a small brown weasel into scampering for the cover of an elder bush.

She had little appetite for the meal that followed. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, she was aware of Dominick’s brooding gaze upon her, though she made sure there was no chance for them to be alone again. He was offended. That was very well; he had earned it.

The sky began to darken, and it soon became apparent that the bright summer day was going to come to a stormy end. The remaining food and the silverware were packed away, and the small party made haste to put the serene beauty of the meadow behind them and return home.

Chapter 10

‘Mama!” Nicky cried as Elizabeth entered the hallway at Merrywood, accompanied by a less than animated Oswald. ‘We have had such fun! You should have stayed here with us.’

‘I will certainly do so if a similar occasion should arise,’ she assured him, bending down to receive his vehement hug and kiss.

‘We played skiffles!’ Selina exclaimed, trailing behind her cousin, her cheeks plumper and rosier now that she was feeling better again. ‘I won.’

‘How clever of you.’ Her aunt correctly understood her to mean that she had beaten Nicky at
skittles.
She then bestowed a kiss upon the little girl’s cheek, as well.

‘But what is wrong with
you,
sir?’ Selina asked, her curious gaze having encountered the viscount’s eye.

‘I say!’ Nicky cried, following her look. ‘That’s a famous rainbow you have there, sir.’

The gentleman thus addressed turned neither red nor white, but a peculiar shade more nearly resembling lavender. Had his wits been sharper, he might have discerned the note of admiration in the boy’s voice, and turned the incident to his own advantage; but Elizabeth could perceive that he was much offended.

‘Nicky,’ she admonished, trying to keep her countenance, ‘such boxing cant is most improper. Apologize to Lord Maples at once, if you please.’

‘Good gracious!’ Dorinda, coming out into the hall, immediately spotted the object of everyone’s attention. ‘Have you had an accident, Lord Maples?’

Elizabeth would almost have sworn that she heard Oswald’s teeth grinding together as he once more produced the tale of the uneven flooring. Nicky promptly lost interest, but Dorinda’s eyes grew round as she digested her guest’s words.

‘But are you sure you are quite well?’ she enquired. ‘Perhaps I should call the physician. A blow to the head, you know, can be ...’

‘My dear Lady Barrowe,’ he interrupted testily, ‘there is no need to alert the sexton as yet, I assure you. Now, if you will all excuse me, I must have a rest before supper.’

As he spoke, a flash of lightning illuminated the hall. A thunderclap sounded close behind, sending the two children to the haven of their mothers’ skirts.

‘An excellent idea,’ Elizabeth commented, ‘and one which I think we would all do well to follow.’

‘May I come with you, Mama?’ Nicky asked, obviously upset by the approaching thunderstorm.

She allowed him to lie down with her in her bedchamber, closing the bed-curtains around them. As the summer shower descended in full force, she distracted his attention by answering his usual unflagging questions. He was particularly interested in Mr Markham’s carriage, and Mr Markham in general, and it was all that she could do to cover the day’s events with a suitable veil of half-truths. She was all too tempted to describe Mr Markham’s bout with Oswald. How Nicky would have enjoyed it, and how it would have established Dominick as a hero to eclipse Nelson,
Wellington, and even Theseus and Hercules! A veritable demi-god, indeed.

Not that either Nicky or herself needed any encouragement to idolize this particular gentleman. Quite the reverse, in fact. Despite her own words to him this afternoon, she knew that nothing could change her foolish devotion to the man.

At last, Nicky fell into a doze. She was much relieved, though not enough to sleep herself. There was far too much to think about for that. And of course, just as all roads are said to lead to Rome, so all her thoughts led inevitably to Dominick.

* * * *

Dorinda had had an especially strenuous day, attempting to entertain her daughter and high-spirited nephew. At the same time, her mind had been occupied with more pressing matters. The mystery of Alastair’s continued absence still overshadowed her own domestic landscape; but at the moment, even this concern was eclipsed by her burning curiosity about the exact relationship between her sister and their handsome neighbour.

All day she had been busily imagining fantastic scenes and conversations between them as she wondered what was happening at Salisbury, and whether anyone else could possibly harbour the incredible suspicions which were plaguing her so dreadfully.

When Lizzy finally returned, Dorinda was not surprised to see her looking fagged to death. But nothing had prepared her for Oswald’s grotesque appearance. His eye was darker than the clouds which covered the evening sky, and as for the tale he recounted - she had never heard anything so unconvincing in her life.

What had happened today? She would surely go mad if she did not soon know the truth.

She fretted and fidgeted her way through supper, trying to discern by look or word from her companions what was passing through their minds. As might have been expected, this produced
nothing but additional frustration. Reading someone’s mind is not easy at the best of times, and neither Elizabeth nor Oswald offered her any assistance. The studied ennui of the former and the stiff politeness of the latter were equally impenetrable.

Elizabeth excused herself early, claiming that she had the headache - which was something her sister had no difficulty in believing. Dorinda was then left to carry the burden of a one-sided conversation with the unusually taciturn viscount. It was an inexpressible relief when he released her from this unpleasant task by likewise retiring early. Perhaps her gaze was too often fastened upon his darkened eye, for she could not help but stare in silent speculation - which might have been natural enough, but was hardly likely to put him at his ease.