Cousin Cecilia (17 page)

The two hour vigil had calmed her nerves, and after a glass of wine with Sir Nigel, she went to bed.

Chapter Thirteen

Martha was too overwrought to go to church on Sunday. Cecilia didn't see her at all, but was told by Alice that her swollen eyes were as red as a ferret's. Mrs. Meacham remained at home to solace her elder daughter. Alice, having left the assembly early, wanted to try for another glimpse of George at church and donned her bonnet to go. Cecilia hadn't the heart to urge Martha out, though it would have done Dallan no harm to see her again with a new beau.

Of the guests, it was only Sir Nigel who was up in time to accompany Cecilia and Alice. Nothing had been said about bringing a guest for lunch, but it was unlikely Mr. Wideman would be turned from the table if he escorted Alice home. Cecilia's main wish was to get herself and her guests out of Meachams' as soon as possible. She knew how unwelcome they were at this troubled time.

They arrived at church early. Alice remained outside chatting to friends, but Cecilia and Pincombe went immediately to the Meachams’ pew. With her mind full of her own troubles, she hardly noticed who was attending the service. As the hour for the beginning drew nigh, she glanced at the people flocking into their pews and saw Mr. Dallan. That was a surprise. She made sure he would sleep till noon after last night's dissipation. Some evidence of it still hung about him. His cheeks were pale and his manner subdued. Movement in other seats caught her attention. She saw Wideman was there, and Andy Sproule went to sit with Kate and her mother. Alice came in with them, but darted to her own family pew.

It had not escaped Cecilia's notice that the Wickham pew was empty. A pity Lord Wickham controlled the best seat in the church, since he so seldom occupied it. With a mental sniff she lifted her chin and looked away. Reverend Daugherty was just approaching the altar, and a respectful hush fell over the gathered throng.

Into the hush came the measured tread of footsteps approaching unhurriedly. Someone has a good opinion of himself, Cecilia thought. He doesn't hasten his pace when he sees the Vicar is waiting for him. She didn't turn her head to look at the late arriver. It was not necessary. Lord Wickham continued his journey to the front pew where he nodded his thanks to the vicar for his forbearance and sat down.

She felt a jolt on her elbow and looked to see Alice grinning at her, to point out Wickham's presence. That open smile carried a world of meaning. It said Wickham was only here to see her, but Cecilia was undeceived. If she had anything to do with his being here, it was only that he wanted to show her what an excellent, upright fellow she had turned off. She had accused him of leading youngsters astray; he would show her that was not his character. The more likely explanation, however, was that he wanted to listen to the organ again to convince himself it didn't need replacing. All through the service her head was full of worldly thoughts. When she noticed it, she was sorry and tried to pay attention to the service.

Mr. Dallan also found it hard to keep his thoughts on the sermon. What had struck him most forcibly, as he went to his seat, was that Martha had not come to church. Already her smart friends were leading her astray. Having become a heartbroken, unrepentant wastrel himself, he had no right to be there, in God's house, but try telling Mama that! As he had been roused out of a sound sleep and nagged into his Sunday waistcoat, there was nowhere else to go but to church. He had thought he might catch a glimpse of Martha.

Having failed in that, it was his intention to get all the details of the assembly from Wideman as soon as church was over. To this end, he sauntered up to George as he came from the door and asked in a voice of the utmost disinterest, "Anything interesting happen last night at the assembly?"

"Henley, you gudgeon! How did you come to offer for Miss Cummings? You must have been disguised! Martha was a regular waterfall of tears. Her Mama took all the girls home early, and Alice missed half the dance."

"A bit cut up, was she?" Dallan asked, with undiminished boredom.

"Of course she was, and so was I! Why should Alice and I have to miss the dance, only because you were drunk as a Dane?"

Dallan examined his York tan gloves and said, "I meant Martha. Crying a little, did you say?"

"No, she was bawling buckets. If you have any hope of winning her, you'd best get your tail over to her house before she accepts an offer from Mr. Teale in spite."

Dallan looked nobly into the future, which for the moment was concentrated on the old oak tree in front of the church, and said, "A bit late for that, I fear." Then he looked a hopeful question at his friend.

"The sooner you patch it up, Henley, the better. The only other dot of fifteen thousand pounds is Alice's, and I mean to speak to her mama today. Not that the money has anything to do with it. I mean to say—"

"Quite. So you, too, have been caught in parson's mousetrap, George. All the old crowd is breaking up. Andy, you..." Noble desolation sat on his brow.

"There's always Sally Gardener. She might have you."

Dallan gave a chilly stare, followed by an incredulous little smile, and left to speak to Wickham. Sally Gardener! Good God, next he would be suggesting Peg, from Jack Duck's Tavern. Fear nibbled at the edges of his mind, but at least he had a noble companion to suffer with.

"Wickham," he said, with a bow. "What brings you to church, you old sinner?"

Wickham nodded. "Dallan. I was surprised you weren't at the assembly last night."

"I didn't hear you were there!"

"I dropped in for a moment."

"Then no doubt you heard of my disgrace."

"I pay no heed to rumors." His eager eye belied this claim. "Some little misunderstanding arose between you and Miss Cummings, I believe?" he prompted.

Aware that there was also difficulty between Wickham and Miss Cummings, Dallan was happy to throw himself into such exalted company. No disgrace in being turned down by her, when she had jilted a lord and owner of an abbey as well. "We were out-maneuvered by the London beaux," he said, with a worldly laugh. "Pincombe, I believe, is Miss Cummings's choice. Sir Nigel Pincombe."

"Is it a serious attachment?" he asked, hiding his concern as well as he could.

"It must be, or she would have had you. I mean to say, Sir Nigel Pincombe, whoever heard of him? But in affairs of the heart, you know, ladies don't know where their best interests lie."

Wickham's eyes traveled across the yards to where Sir Nigel stood with Cecilia. The name Pincombe wasn't familiar to him, but he thought the handsome gallant must be a great favorite in London. "As you say, it must be a long-standing attachment. Miss Cummings could do better, from a worldly point of view."

They were joined by Mr. Wideman. "G'day, Wickham," he said, then turned to Dallan. "Are you coming along to Meachams with us? Alice says she thinks Martha would see you."

"Martha?" Wickham asked in surprise. "I thought it was Miss Cummings you had offered for, Dallan?"

"Oh, as to that," Dallan said, blushing like a green cow, "I was a little disguised, if you want the truth. I always meant to have Martha."

"How very odd that you should offer for her cousin! I never heard you say a kind word about Miss Meacham."

"I didn't really appreciate her till..." He frowned, trying to recall just when his love life had gone so wildly astray.

"Till Miss Cummings came," Wideman told him. "It's a great secret. You must not say a word, but I had it of Alice that Miss Cummings came for the express purpose of getting husbands for her cousins. It's a kind of hobby, which is very odd, for she has no interest at all in getting married herself."

"What about Pincombe?" Wickham asked. It didn't occur to him that he was gossiping like a youngster, and was very much interested in what he was hearing, too.

"They are old friends. Well, are you coming or not, Henley? Miss Cummings won't be there. She is dining out with her London friends. Someone invited them all to lunch."

With the last obstacle removed from his path, Dallan said, "If you're sure I wouldn't be imposing."

"Alice told me to ask you."

Dallan glanced along the walk. Alice smiled and waved. It was enough. "I might as well then. We're only having a porker at home."

At the other end of the walk, Alice and Miss Cummings waited on tenterhooks to see the outcome of this meeting. George had hinted that Dallan was ready to repent. Alice had indicated that Martha might be persuaded into forgiveness, and Cecilia had suggested that an invitation be issued to Dallan. Knowing that her own presence might very well keep him away, she invented on the spot a luncheon engagement with friends of Sir Nigel's. All the company from London were immediately invited elsewhere by a fictitious friend.

She waited only to bow civilly to Dallan before leading Sir Nigel off. Alice would be taken home with George. Her eye glanced off Wickham as she nodded at Dallan. As he was gazing at her, she nodded again. He bowed, and left. She and Pincombe made a mad dart to High Street to gather up Woodhouse and Teale and ride into the country to an inn for lunch.

It was a merry meal, with a deal of laughter about Cecilia's idea of entertainment at a country party. "An assembly where the daughter of the house bursts into tears and flies home, and we are hustled out of the house like criminals when company is coming to call. Something quite new in the annals of a house party," Sir Nigel told her.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but your presence might have impeded the receiving of an offer of marriage. That is why I was there, you know. Nothing must stand in the way of success."

"Miss Cummings could do better for her cousin than that popinjay, if you want my opinion!" Mr. Teale of the sly blue eyes asserted.

"But she don't want your opinion; no more does Miss Meacham," Sir Nigel told him. "She wants her Mr. Dallan, and no doubt she shall have him. Cousin Cecilia has set her mind on it. God pity the poor gent she decides to have herself. He shan't stand a chance of escaping her clutches." He gave her a conning smile, knowing he was teasing her.

Cecilia laughed as gaily as the rest and kept the irony of it to herself for consideration at a later time and more private place. She kept the company away until after three. By the time they reached High Street, the whole matter was resolved. Mr. Dallan was smiling the warmest, most natural smile Cecilia had ever seen. Martha ran to her cousin and threw her arms around her.

"I don't know how you did it, but you did it, dearest cousin. I hope you will forgive any foolish thing I said last night. Henley was so repentant, so sweet and generous, quite like his old self. It was his falling in with Lord Wickham that did the mischief. He is well enough in his way, but too high and too fast for Henley. He owns he has been a perfect fool, and that he will never act so badly again. I threatened him I would call on you if he did and that made him look sharp!"

Blaming Wickham for Dallan's folly was bad enough. Being called an ogre herself at the end of all the thanks and praise took some of the pleasure from it, but Cecilia rejoiced for her cousin, and for her own success.

Sunday or not, the London guests realized they were wished at Jericho and bent the travel rules enough to betake themselves to an inn just beyond town for the remainder of the day, whence they would continue to London in the morning.

The talk at Meachams was all of weddings and trousseaux and wedding trips. Alice, too, had her offer and thought it would be a novelty for the sisters and their best friend to be all married the same day. Martha wouldn't hear of it. She was the elder; she must go first. Dallan couldn't have his house ready before autumn, and George, whose home was ready for occupancy, couldn't see that he and Alice must wait that long.

Mrs. Meacham was applied to in all the difficulties till her poor head was ringing, and she retired to the bay window with Cecilia, to offer her heartfelt thanks and apologies for any inconvenience to her guests.

"I hope you will stay with us a few weeks till we get the arrangements underway. You see what a mad scramble it will be."

"Unfortunately, I must be getting on to London. The Season is beginning, you know, and Mama will be looking for me. She is in London already."

"But you will return for the wedding at least?"

It was the last thing in the world she wanted. By autumn, however, she thought she might be cured of Wickham and gave a tentative affirmation.

It was a long day, a day of callers and excited conversation and whispered love messages in quiet corners. Dallan found a moment to make an embarrassed apology to Miss Cummings. Cecilia had become Miss Cummings again. "It was the wine speaking," he said earnestly. "I hope you will not think me a fickle fellow. There never was anyone for me but Martha. It is just that I was not used to anyone so sophisticated as yourself, Miss Cummings. You quite turned my head, but I have got it screwed on tight now and know Martha is the one, the only one for me. Your lecture did me a world of good, you know."

She said everything that was proper and did not say, though she felt that he would in all likelihood require another lecture every couple of years. No matter, Martha would have no one but Dallan. As she matured, perhaps she would remember this lesson and know how to handle him.

Cecilia left for London on Monday, late in the morning. While Miss Miser finished her packing, Cecilia sat at the bow window, scanning the street as busily as the Gardeners across the way, but Wickham did not come to town. Her leave-taking was a warm mixture of joy and sadness, with many promises to write, and many reminders that she was to come for the weddings. As the carriage drew away from Laycombe, she tried to project her thoughts into the future.

Usually on her visits, the scene she left behind her faded with the miles, to be replaced by whatever lay ahead—London, or home, or another matchmaking visit. This time, her mind refused to make the change. Her heart, she feared, was left behind.

But it was not her heart Lord Wickham wanted. It was her dowry, and her presence as a mistress for the abbey, and her ability to give him a son and heir. It might have grown to love in time... She would not have spurned such an offer out of hand for any of her protégées. Position was a matter of importance in making a proper match. But no, there must be affection at least—on both sides to begin with.