A Scandalous Secret (21 page)

‘I have been up near an hour,’ Dorinda informed her. ‘I will send Ellen to help you dress. We are going to pay a call on Miss Trottson.’

‘What?’

‘And Lizzy,’ Dorinda added, an almost fanatical gleam in her
eyes, ‘do not vex yourself any longer. You
shall
marry Markham!’

Elizabeth stared at her, stupefied. ‘You are mad and ought to be locked up.’

Dorinda laughed gaily and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I will prove you wrong yet. My dear sister, I have a plan.’

Her sister spoke as though she were Gabriel delivering glad tidings to the Blessed Virgin. ‘You begin to frighten me,’ Elizabeth responded.

‘I shall tell you all about it on the way to Lammerton Hall.’

Elizabeth ate a hurried breakfast while Dorinda popped in and out of the room, urging her to be quick about it. Elizabeth voiced some doubt as to whether Miss Trottson would be out of bed at such an hour.

‘Depend upon it, she is one of those old tabbies that get up with the sun,’ Dorinda assured her.

‘Why are you so eager to see her?’

‘Because,’ Dorinda stated emphatically, ‘she will be of great use to us in carrying out my plan.’

‘And just what
is
this famous plan of yours?’

‘It was Alastair,’ Dorinda admitted, ‘who gave me the idea, last night in the carriage. Was it not the luckiest chance?’

‘In the carriage?’ Elizabeth repeated. This was making no sense at all.

Dorinda nodded. ‘Do you not remember that he said it was all “much ado about nothing”?’

Elizabeth put up her hand to her forehead, wondering if
she
were not the one losing her mind. ‘I do,’ she said. ‘But what has that to say to anything?’

‘You see,’ Dorinda expanded on her theme, ‘that phrase kept going round and round in my head—’

‘I think you must be
all about in the head
, Dorrie.’

‘Do let me finish,’ she complained. ‘I could not sleep, so I went
down to the library and unearthed a book of Shakespeare’s plays, and began to read. And what a blessing that I did. For as I read, the solution to your dilemma came to me in an instant: Beatrice and Benedick!’

Elizabeth could only gape at her. ‘Oh, yes,’ she replied. ‘Now I see. Beatrice and Benedick. Of course. Why, it is so plain that I wonder I did not think of it myself.’

‘You are laughing at me,’ Dorinda accused. ‘But when I have explained, I know you will agree that it is the perfect solution.’

* * * *

They found Miss Trottson in the drawing-room, knitting something which would almost certainly become another shawl. She was surprised to see them, but not displeased. In fact, she greeted them with a flattering degree of warmth, only pausing to apologize for her nephew’s absence. He had ridden over to Rosedale Manor.

The three women arranged themselves in a semicircle, each looking at the other as though expecting some momentous pronouncement. Dorinda was ready to oblige.

‘It is probably better that Mr Markham is not here. Gentlemen,’ she continued, as one versed in these matters, ‘often object to a little dissimulation, however effective it may prove.’

‘What are you talking about, Dorrie?’ Elizabeth asked, quite put out by these cryptic utterances.

‘You and Mr Markham, of course. When you are married, you will acknowledge at last that I am the greatest of all matchmakers. A veritable nonpareil!’

Elizabeth and Aunt Winifred exchanged glances of mingled amusement and bewilderment at this self-adulation.

‘And what of Miss Thornwood?’ the latter remarked with raised eyebrows, coming at once to the crux of the matter.

‘Gwendolyn?’ Dorinda enquired, dismissing this objection with
a careless shrug. ‘She shall wed Lord Maples, of course.’

This pronouncement nearly overset Elizabeth, who began to laugh so hard that her sides ached and her eyes overflowed. Miss Trottson, while not so grievously afflicted, gave a strange grunt while her shoulders shook ever so slightly.

‘If you do not take me seriously,’ Dorinda said, pouting, ‘I will say no more. Let Mr Markham marry the wretched girl.’

‘I am sorry,’ Elizabeth said, attempting to mollify her, ‘but it is so absurd.’

‘It is not absurd at all!’ Dorinda cried. ‘If you would only hear me out.’

‘I own,’ Miss Trottson said, ‘it would serve that stiff-rumped Lord Maples right to find himself riveted to the silly chit.’

‘Tell us your scheme, then,’ Elizabeth requested.

It was straight out of the pages of Shakespeare. They merely had to convince Gwendolyn that Lord Maples had conceived the most ardent passion for her; and, likewise, bamboozle Oswald into believing that Gwendolyn had a decided
tendre
for him. The rest could be left up to them: Beatrice and Benedick.

‘Not,’ Dorinda admitted conscientiously, ‘that Oswald and Gwendolyn can be said to be precisely like Shakespeare’s characters. After all,
they
were quite intelligent.’

‘Not to mention that they existed purely in the Bard’s imagination,’ Elizabeth added. ‘What do you think of all this, Miss Trottson?’

The old woman tapped her knitting-needle on the side of her nose, considering the matter before replying. ‘The more I think about it, the more I like this scheme of yours, Lady Barrowe.’

‘Aha!’ she cried triumphantly. ‘You see, Lizzy? Why, it cannot fail! With the proper encouragement, Gwendolyn would believe herself in love with the butcher. And Oswald’s vanity will easily convince him of
her
devotion. Will you help us, ma’am?’ Dorinda pleaded, addressing Dominick’s aunt now.

Miss Trottson stood up. ‘Not meaning any disrespect, Lady Barrowe,’ she said, ‘but I’d help the Devil himself if it would save Dominick from this foolish marriage.’

Dorinda actually rose and hugged her at this, saluting her as an excellent co-conspirator and a welcome addition to their family - which she was sure she soon would be.

‘When next do you see Gwendolyn?’ she began.

‘Dominick is bringing her and her brother here today for luncheon, which was why he went by the squire’s place.’

‘Good.’ Dorinda was all smiles. ‘The sooner we put this into action, the better - lest Oswald should escape to town.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Elizabeth protested. The other two ignored her small interruption, and proceeded with their plans.

‘All you have to do when you see her,’ Dorinda instructed, ‘is to be as disagreeable as you possibly can.’

‘Which will not be at all hard for me, you’re thinking,’ Aunt Winifred suggested, quizzing her.

‘I am sure you will manage very well,’ Dorinda agreed, her lips twitching. ‘And try if you can impress upon her how fond of you your nephew is, and that she will certainly be forced to share the same house with you. Of course, you must not say anything before Mr Markham.’

‘I understand you.’ Miss Trottson nodded.

‘It sounds to me as if you mean to scare the poor girl out of her wits,’ Elizabeth said, frowning.

‘Exactly so!’ Dorinda cried, apparently pleased at her sister’s perspicacity.

* * * *

Back at Merrywood, Elizabeth sat alone and pondered where this was all leading. She was afraid to believe that it could possibly be the success prophesied by her sister. More likely, it would land them all in the suds.

Her solitary musings were cut short by the advent of unexpected visitors: Gwendolyn and Peter Thornwood, accompanied by Enid Penroth.

This annoying trio had barely had time to greet her when Dorinda appeared and proceeded to direct the course of the entire conversation. It seemed that the others had just come from Lammerton Hall, where their visit had not been entirely pleasant.

‘I believe that Miss Trottson is something of a - a termagant,’ Dorinda said, shooting a warning glance at her sister.

‘She quite frightens me,’ Gwendolyn admitted.

‘And Dominick quite dotes on her, poor man,’ Dorinda said, adding what oil she could to the flames. ‘She certainly rules the roost at Lammerton Hall.’

Elizabeth could perceive Gwendolyn blanching at this confirmation of her most terrifying fears. For some minutes there was a lively discussion about Miss Trottson, in which Dorinda delicately contrived to make that poor woman seem like some bizarre combination of Bloody Mary and a screeching banshee.

Eventually, the conversation turned in more pleasant channels. The young people were eager to discuss the ball, lamenting the dowdy appearance of their neighbours on one hand, and exclaiming on the other at the modishness of the Hall and its owner. Even here, Dorinda managed to aim a few darts in Miss Thornwood’s general direction. She almost wept over the unlikelihood of there ever being another ball at Lammerton while Miss Trottson lived - for she was sure the old woman must have disliked it excessively.

It was no great surprise to Elizabeth when her sister drew Gwendolyn aside for a low-toned conversation while the others were preparing to leave.

‘Do go on ahead!’ she called gaily to Enid and Peter, as Elizabeth
escorted them to the door. ‘I will not detain Miss Thornwood more than a minute.’

When she finally did release the unsuspecting girl, Gwendolyn’s cheeks were quite pink and her voice a little breathless as she leaned out of the carriage to bid them farewell.

‘Well?’ Elizabeth asked, as they returned to the drawing-room. ‘Is she ready to fall upon Oswald’s manly breast as yet?’

‘All is going very well,’ her sister said. ‘Miss Trottson must have outdone herself earlier.’

‘Undoubtedly. Poor Gwendolyn was shaking in her slippers.’ She smoothed her skirt as she sat down. ‘But you have not been exactly idle yourself. Come, Dorrie, let me hear it.’

‘I warned her,’ Dorinda said, obviously relishing the memory, ‘to be careful not to show the viscount too great favour. Surely, I said, she must have noticed his partiality.’

‘And what did she say to that?’

‘She could not credit it at first,’ Dorinda confessed. ‘But I persuaded her that only her betrothal and Oswald’s honour kept him from declaring himself. She was very much flattered, and genuinely touched by the feelings I described. It was most affecting!’

‘I daresay they shall be on the road to Gretna Green by this time tomorrow.’

Dorinda raised her chin and said, with great dignity, ‘Sneer if you like, Lizzy, but my plan is working. It only remains to convince Oswald — and I will require your assistance in that.’

‘But of course,’ she replied. ‘Having gulled Gwendolyn after luncheon, why should we not roast Oswald for supper?’

* * * *

Later, coming down from her room after dressing early for dinner, Elizabeth encountered Oswald ascending the staircase. He greeted her brusquely and moved on.

Having been on the watch, Dorinda perceived at once that this was her golden opportunity. She could now set the stage for the next act in her little comedy. She herded Alastair and Elizabeth into the drawing-room while Oswald continued his ablutions above stairs. Then she posted herself by the door, peering through a thin slit where it stood slightly ajar. From this angle, she could see the foot of the stairs and look for the viscount to come ‘as a sheep before her shearers’.

Suddenly, she drew back.

‘He is coming!’ she whispered, flying to her seat. ‘Now, Alastair.’

Having already been coached in his role, he recognized his cue and began, ‘Um ... er.... You do not think—’

‘Louder!’ Dorinda hissed at him.

‘You do not think,’ he repeated, raising his voice, ‘that Oswald suspects anything, do you?’

‘Oh, Lord, I hope not. It would be so mortifying for the poor dear girl. And yet,’ Dorinda bellowed artistically towards the door, ‘it is becoming so very obvious—’

‘I cannot say that I have noticed anything of the sort,’ Elizabeth said flatly. ‘And, to be perfectly honest, I find it very difficult to believe that Miss Thornwood has developed a
tendre
for Lord Maples.’

Dorinda stuck her tongue out at her sister before replying, ‘My dear Lizzy, you could not doubt it had you heard her confession to me today.’

‘Which was meant to be kept secret,’ Elizabeth threw at her.

‘Naturally,’ she flung back, glowering, ‘I knew I need not scruple to tell the two of you, since I am certain it will not go beyond this room.’

‘No one else shall hear it from
my
lips,’ Elizabeth agreed.

‘I knew I might rely upon your discretion, dear sister.’

Elizabeth smiled despite herself, well aware of Dorinda’s anger at her perverse behaviour thus far. Well, perhaps she would humour her, seeing that she had been thrust into this willy-nilly.

‘But is it possible,’ Alastair was saying, making a conscientious effort to play his part correctly, ‘that Oswald can return Miss Thornwood’s feelings?’

‘It hardly seems likely,’ Elizabeth answered, before Dorinda could respond. ‘And yet, if an attractive young girl such as Gwendolyn can fall in love with a prating coxcomb like Oswald, surely
anything
is possible.’

Alastair actually choked at this juncture, while Dorinda closed her eyes in despair. Yet Elizabeth knew just what she was about. She would give Oswald an incentive for courting Miss Thornwood that was stronger than love, or even vanity: revenge. She did not doubt that he was still smarting inwardly from his humiliation at Salisbury, and would grasp eagerly at any opportunity to injure the man who had been responsible.

‘Lord Maples,’ Dorinda declared, ‘is one of the handsomest and most sought-after men in England. It is small wonder that Gwendolyn has lost her heart to him.’

‘Why, then, did she accept Mr Markham’s proposal of marriage?’ Elizabeth asked reasonably.

‘Because she was convinced that there was no hope of the viscount returning her affections. And so,’ she added, ‘when Mr Markham begged so earnestly for her hand, she thought she had better have him than die a spinster.’

‘Unhappy girl!’ Alastair said, with mock sympathy.

‘It will be as well if Oswald’s affections are not engaged, for if they are, I am sure Miss Thornwood will never know of it.’

‘Why not, Lizzy?’

‘My dear Dorrie,’ her sister said, winking broadly at her, ‘would Oswald profess such a thing, knowing what humiliation it would
cause Mr Markham to be jilted? Imagine what a fool the man would look to have Miss Thornwood cry off to marry Lord Maples.’