Laura Matthews (12 page)

Glenna made no response, as she was intent on spreading her toast with butter. Convinced that it would be best to change the subject, she did so. “Would you care to ride in to Minehead with me this morning, Peter? I have several commissions to undertake.”

“No doubt for the landlubber land lord,” Peter quipped, pleased with his wit.

“You are a guest in his house, Peter.”

Quelled by her frown, he mumbled an apology, such as it was, and agreed that he would ride with her. When Phoebe entered the breakfast room, Peter reestablished himself by chatting with her so that Glenna had an opportunity to plan what she wanted to accomplish in town. It was not really difficult to allow his words to drift past her and concentrate on other matters.

Chapter 10

Pontley had only been driving for two hours, and was looking to his first change in Taunton when he overtook a cavalcade of impressive proportions. First he passed the inferior stable men, the hack-horses, the whipper-in, and the pack of hounds; next the hunters with cloths of scarlet trimmed with silver, attended by the stud-groom and huntsman; at length a chaise marine with four horses carrying numerous services of plate escorted by several household members with blunderbusses. But the procession was headed by no less than three other vehicles: a coach and six with two postillions, coachman and three outriders; a post chaise and four post horses; plus a phaeton and four followed by two grooms. The upper servants rode in the coach while the mistress of the establishment luxuriated in the chariot. But the master, Pontley was told in Taunton when he described the remarkable procession, traveled only in the phaeton, and in all weathers, wrapped in his swan’s-down coat. Pontley would have thought no more of it, other than perhaps that it seemed the sort of ostentation in which Miss Stafford would revel, had he not happened to catch the owner’s name.

The shock of learning that it was indeed Miss Stafford’s parents, Sir George and Lady Stafford, headed from their estate in Cornwall to another in Leicestershire, was enough to give him pause. He had not been informed that Miss Stafford’s parents were due to arrive at Lord and Lady Morris’s, yet such an expedition must have been planned for some time, and it was but a few days since he had left Huntley. On the other hand he found it difficult to believe that they would not visit their daughters on their journey northward. Pontley had, it was true, left the Huntley estate rather precipitously when he learned of Miss Forbes’s accident with the bees, and he had intended to return there after he evaluated the situation at Manner Hall.

All in all, he did not like the disposition of the forces ranging against him, and he had no intention of bowing to the pressures brought to bear on him. Miss Stafford’s sister, Lady Morris, had become a little less circumspect in her hints that an offer from him was expected. Pontley’s Aunt Gertrude wrote in her usual impatient vein urging him to get on with it. And now this. He had a brief thought to drive on and affect never having realized who the travelers were, but it appeared cowardly to him, and it was his nature to face disagreeable tasks head on. Reluctantly he asked the ostler to inform Sir George Stafford that Lord Pontley would await him in a private parlor if he would be so kind as to step into the inn.

Not only Sir George but his wife joined Pontley there. The viscount could detect no resemblance to Jennifer Stafford in her gruff, red-faced father, but Lady Stafford, for all her more than forty years, had an ethereal quality and delicate features much like her daughter. It was appalling to Pontley to see this older version of the girl, for, as he had suspected, the childlike quality did not become the woman—made her, rather, appear ridiculous with her hair dressed as an ingénue and her driving costume too revealing to be flattering on a woman whose body had not stood the years. Not that her appearance was of paramount importance; it was the inability to deal with reality which alarmed him.

“Well, well, well, so you are Lord Pontley. We’ve heard a great deal about you, a great deal,” Sir George blustered, his eyes taking in the young man in great detail. “My wife, your lordship, Lady Stafford.”

A whimsical smile flitted about Lady Stafford’s lips.
“Delighted
to make your acquaintance, Lord Pontley. We had been looking forward to meeting you when we arrived at Cromer Lodge. Such a coincidence that we should meet on the road!”

“Yes, indeed. Do you intend to stay long at the lodge?” he asked politely.

She cast an uncertain glance at her husband, and he stepped in. “Really can’t say as yet. Haven’t seen our daughters in some months and you know how it is when the ladies get talking. Hard to prise them apart.”

“I had intended to return to Huntley after my visit to Manner Hall, but my plans are changed and I am now headed for Lockwood. When I learned that it was you I had passed on the road, I could not miss the opportunity to make your acquaintance. Lady Morris and Miss Stafford speak of you frequently."

Sir George grunted at this intelligence and Lady Stafford fluttered about, expressing concern. “We had so hoped to have the opportunity to get to know you, my lord. It was our understanding that you frequently visit Cromer.”

“Lord and Lady Morris have been very tolerant of my presence, and have been most helpful in introducing me to the neighborhood. Miss Stafford, too, has afforded me her company on rides and drives to various spots of interest. She appears to relish the country life and her enthusiasm is contagious.”

Dissatisfied with the casual way in which this information was delivered, Sir George pressed on. “Engaging little puss, our Jennifer. Has the looks of her mother, too, thank heaven. Deeply attached to her, we are. Not to say we would hold her back from an eligible match—no, no, just the thing for her. Needs a bit of a guiding hand.”

Pontley was strongly tempted to inform Sir George that in his opinion Miss Stafford was in need of a keeper, not a husband, but he of course refrained. Instead he chose his words carefully. “Miss Stafford is still young to undertake the responsibilities of marriage. I should hate to see her burdened with the management of some household when her chief delight is roaming about her brother-in-law’s property knowing the carefree life of a child.”

“No, no,” Lady Stafford almost squeaked. “Why, Jennifer is eighteen and looks forward to a household of her own. Would not any young lady? I was married at eighteen and found it the greatest comfort to have an establishment of my own. I have often told you so, have I not, Sir George?”

“Yes, m’dear, so you have. ‘Twill be the making of the girl, you know,” he informed Pontley. “Needs a little responsibility to settle her, don’t you see?”

The viscount refused to falsely agree to this piece of nonsense. Nothing and nobody was going to “settle” Miss Stafford, as unfortunate as the matter was. She was a charming, delightful child, but with swings of mood so violent as to astonish an observer. On his first visit Pontley had seen only the affectionate, joyous vitality of the girl. When he had ridden up to Cromer Lodge on his return he had witnessed another side altogether. Thwarted in her desire to rid herself of the tiny groom who perpetually followed her about, Pontley had watched horrified as she viciously struck the little lad, causing him to fall from his mount. Miss Stafford had been unaware of Pontley’s presence, but on seeing him she had rushed to assure him that the groom had attempted to take liberties with her. The episode had been followed, if not by such a drastic example, at least by unnerving ones, which had disillusioned him, in spite of the infectiousness of her personality when she was “herself.” He had attempted to understand her, to help her to achieve some moderation of her black moods and violent temper, but with no noticeable results.

Recalled to the present from these meditations by Lady Stafford’s rambling monologue on her daughter’s virtues, Pontley politely agreed that the girl was charming. “I should not delay your journey longer, ma am. If your stay at Cromer is lengthy, no doubt we will meet there. I hope you will convey my regards to your daughters and Lord Morris.” With a leisurely bow and a forced amiability, he took leave of the disgruntled couple, aware that he had not performed the only civility which would have been acceptable to them—to have offered for Miss Stafford.

The rest of his journey was uncomfortable. The roads were tolerable, the posting inns acceptable, the meals edible, but he could not rid himself of his nagging thoughts of Miss Stafford. It was permissible, by his lights, to extricate himself from her sister’s hints and her parents’ encouragement; they were plots, rather too obvious ones, to entrap him into marrying the girl. He could not so easily abandon the girl herself. His original infatuation had disintegrated, but it had been replaced by a brotherly concern which had led him to attempt to help her. He was aware that his attentions to the girl had raised unholy hopes in her sister’s breast, which she had obviously shared with her parents. Pontley could easily discount their predatory claims on him; they were all intent on thrusting the girl onto someone else’s shoulders. She was a responsibility none of them bore gladly. Selfishly intent on their own pleasures, she symbolized for each a chain which bound them.

Even that Pontley could have walked away from, uneasily. But the girl’s devotion to him was another matter entirely. He had been flattered by her admiration of him when they first met; it was very different, after all, from Miss Forbes’s unemotional acceptance of him as a prospective husband—and one whom she had wished at sea for the greater part of the time. Pontley had, by his actions, led Miss Stafford to believe that he was attached to her but that his engagement bound him to another. When the engagement was broken she had every right to expect that he would offer for her.

Unfortunately, he had lost the desire to do so when he had seen her erratic and often violent behavior, but his sense of responsibility, as with Miss Forbes, had prompted him not to abandon her. His efforts to teach her to control her temper were unavailing; his attempts to lift her from black moods unprofitable. But his attentions to her had strengthened her affection for him, apparently, and no amount of discussion, perhaps too delicately put (Peter Westlake would have been astonished), could convince the girl that her feelings were not reciprocated in quite the same way. It was incomprehensible to her that he should feel differently than she did herself; that he should not wish to marry her and take her away from the unfeeling people around her. And although Pontley recognized her genuine affection for him, he was not convinced as she seemed to be that it was a deep and abiding love. In her unconscious selfishness she clung to the one person who showed an interest in her.

Pontley’s arrival at Lockwood did not relieve him of these thoughts, and his aunt summoned him to the dower house almost before he had time to change. Irritated with the imperiousness of the message, he sent word that he would wait on her the following morning and hoped she was in good health. There were matters to be attended to on the estate, and his leg had begun to ache with fatigue. He was in no mood to sustain her bitter recriminations.

Owing to the experience he had gained at Huntley and Manner, he was able to discuss matters more intelligently with the Lockwood agent. Since there had been no more heavy drains on the estate since his cousin had died, affairs were prospering and Pontley reminded himself to thank his aunt for her overseeing of the estate. It was high time he settled there and involved himself with its management.

At dinner he gazed out the window over the manicured lawns to the distant gentle hills and for the first time experienced a real feeling for the place. He could not, in this room, deny those thoughts of Miss Forbes which he had forced from him since he left Manner. It was uselessly idle to reflect on the meal they had shared here at Lockwood, or to dwell on the emotion which had seized him a few days previously. He drained the brandy glass, set it down with a sharp clink and rose to pace across to the windows. She was intent on having her first love, the exquisitely dressed Mr. Westlake, and there was nothing he could do about it. Her choice, he thought, was a poor one, and he would not have expected it of her, with her calm capability, her mature vitality, her ridiculous puffy cheeks. He turned away from the view he was no longer regarding and made his way to the stables.

* * * *

“I have had a most distressing letter from Jennifer this morning,” Lady Pontley informed him the moment he entered her sitting room.

"Have you indeed? Is something amiss with Miss Stafford?”

“Her parents had just arrived and informed her that they met you en route. Jennifer was shocked that you did not intend to return to Huntley as you had promised her.” Her cold eyes raked him, to no avail.

“I should not have called it a promise, Aunt Gertrude, and I have written to inform Lord Morris of my intention to spend some time at Lockwood. There are matters here which I should attend to.”

“You are not equipped to take care of anything here, as I should think you would know by now, and did better to leave matters in my hands.”

“Nonetheless, I do not intend to, though I thank you most sincerely for your continued interest in the estate. Smitt will be showing me about in an hour’s time. I take it there is some problem with the winter wheat in the north field.”

The dowager pointed a bony finger at him which shook with her agitation. “You are acting dishonorably, Pontley.”

A muscle twitched at the corner of his firmly closed mouth, but he stretched his aching leg before answering her. “I am not aware of it, ma’am. Perhaps you would be so kind as to explain.”

"You have led my poor niece to believe that you intend to marry her, yet my brother writes that you gave no such assurance to him. He believes that you have been trifling with the girl’s affections, and Lady Stafford is so overwrought that they find they cannot continue their journey to Leicestershire.”

A vision of the procession he had encountered on the road to Taunton arose in Pontley’s mind and he could not blame Lady Stafford for shrinking from shepherding such an assemblage, but he would not evade the issue. “When I was interested in marrying your niece, I was previously engaged, my dear aunt. By the time I was free from my betrothal, I had learned that I no longer wished to do so. I have spoken with Miss Stafford concerning my feelings on the subject, but she is not able to comprehend my meaning.”