Lord Greywell's Dilemma (9 page)

Chapter Five

Beeton carefully poured one glass of port and handed it to the viscount. The tea tray was set in front of Elspeth and the bottle of port left near Lord Greywell on a silver tray before Beeton left the room. There was silence while Elspeth poured herself a cup of tea, but as she settled back against the cushions she resolved to speak.

“I hope you’ll believe I feel the greatest sympathy for your plight, Lord Greywell. As you must realize, no one consulted my wishes in this matter, and it has long been my intention never to marry. That is very hard on my father, I suppose, but then I have never believed I must sacrifice myself for his well-being. Mr. Blockley frequently sermonizes on the duty of daughters to obey their fathers, which may be well enough for women of tender age who have no principles of their own to guide them. I myself have decided opinions, and they frequently do not coincide with Sir Edward’s. I am persuaded I must adhere to the set of principles I perceive as being correct for myself.”

Greywell looked surprised. “It’s a matter of principle with you not to marry?”

“Well, no, not a matter of principle
per se
.” Elspeth flushed under his steady gaze. “I’m sure there’s not the least thing wrong with most women’s being wives. They have almost a calling for the responsibilities and duties expected of them. I know a little of myself, Lord Greywell, and I’m aware that I would make a wholly unsatisfactory wife for any man.”

 “In what way, Miss Parkstone?” His voice held a trace of amusement.

“I’m not biddable, for one thing. You heard Papa. He considers me stubborn.”

“Still, I’ve met a number of women who weren’t particularly biddable, and they’ve made adequate wives.”

“I shouldn’t want to be an ‘adequate’ wife,” Elspeth informed him, bristling. “It has long been my goal to excel in whatever I choose to do. Papa may discount my influence on his household, but it is considerable, because I’ve made a study of running Lyndhurst efficiently.”

“That seems only a recommendation for your entering into matrimony.”

“Not at all!” she protested. “Lyndhurst is my home. What I’ve done here would be impossible to accomplish somewhere else. Every establishment has its own practices, and I would antagonize a whole staff with my insistence on my way. I would find it very uncomfortable to live under even the most time-honored traditions; they would feel like unbearable restraints to me.”

One of Greywell’s brows lowered in thought. “Hmm. I wonder what traditions we have at Ashfield that would seem restrictive to an outsider. We celebrate Christmas, of course, and have a public day in the summer. The Long Gallery is chilly, but we often take tea there instead of in one of the warmer sitting rooms because it’s been done for years. I suppose I wouldn’t feel entirely averse to changing that arrangement, though there is something rather whimsical about sitting among all those portraits of ancestors.”

“That’s not exactly what I mean.” Elspeth took a sip from the teacup and set it down on the table. “But it doesn’t signify. That’s only one of the reasons I don’t intend to marry.”

“Tell me another,” Greywell urged. He was sitting comfortably in a chair opposite her, one long leg draped over the other, his broad shoulders resting easily against the chairback. “Really, I’m fascinated. For years I’d thought there was no disadvantage for a woman in marrying, unless it was out of her station to disoblige her family.”

Elspeth was genuinely astonished.  “How could you think that? Why, a woman doesn’t even have control over her own money when she marries. It is entirely at her husband’s disposal.”

“In my experience a husband doesn’t generally disabuse the privilege, ma’am. There are any number of wives who haven’t the first notion of how to handle money.”

“Was your wife one of them?” she demanded.

His posture instantly became more rigid, and his eyelids narrowed over unreadable eyes. “We weren’t discussing my wife.”

“Forgive me. I didn’t intend to be rude.” She toyed with the teacup she’d set down, though she had no intention of pouring herself more. “This attitude men have about women’s capabilities is wholly absurd, you know. Most women are more than able to manage a household within a reasonable allowance. I see them do it all the time here in the country. Perhaps the situation is different in London, where there is so much to tempt one into indulgence. But one does hear more often of a gentleman gambling away his patrimony than of a woman causing penury through her mismanagement of the household funds.”

“Gambling can be a vice with women as well.”

“Oh, I dare say, but there are few opportunities in our neighborhood to lose more than a few shillings at cardplay.”

“We have digressed from our central topic, Miss Parkstone,” he said. “You were telling me why it wasn’t advantageous for a woman to many. You, to be specific. I’d enjoy hearing more of your reasons.”

“I have a purpose here in our parish. Any number of people depend on my services.” She would not be more specific about Sir Edward’s love children. They were none of Lord Greywell’s business. Perhaps he didn’t even know of them. She glanced at the impassive face opposite her, unable to tell what he was thinking.

“Many women feel there is a purpose in marrying and raising the next generation,” he said. “Some feel it is the most worthwhile of purposes.”

He had touched a sore spot with Elspeth. Actually, she quite liked children, and, given her inclination toward uplifting her fellow man (and woman), it seemed only logical that she would have very definite opinions on childrearing. Which she did. But she would never have the opportunity to put them into practice, because none of Sir Edward’s women was the least inclined to offer her child into Elspeth’s keeping, and it would have been almost impossible to raise such a child as she wished, anyhow. Even her advice to these women was as often as not totally ignored, a circumstance which caused Elspeth great frustration, and in some cases made her wish she’d never gotten involved. She was unable to meet Greywell’s eyes now, and found herself fingering the silky tassel on the gown’s apron.

“I would agree with that,” she said softly, “but not every woman can have the opportunity.”

His puzzled gaze remained on her down-turned head. “Apparently you’ve had the opportunity, more than once.”

Elspeth looked up. “Did my father tell you that? You mustn’t pay any heed to him. He’s convinced every man who ever spoke to me is a potential suitor. But that’s beside the point.”

Elspeth was not above wishing him to think well of her; there was something decidedly lowering about being thought so undesirable that no one wanted you. “I suppose I could have married had I wished. As I have said, I didn’t wish to marry.”

“If you’d married a man from the neighborhood you could have continued your parish work,” he reminded her as he withdrew an oval snuffbox from his pocket and flicked it open. “And if you married someone elsewhere, well, there is parish work to be done in almost every community. Marrying would not likely have taken away that purpose from your life.”

Elspeth was silent. The clock in the hall chimed ten times. Really, it was late enough that she could, without absolute rudeness, excuse herself and go to bed. As though he sensed her imminent decision, Greywell began speaking in a low, persuasive tone which he hadn’t employed before.

“I had no intention of doing anything but stay at Ashfield with Andrew until Uncle Hampden’s letter came. Actually, I dismissed his letter as well, until Abigail insisted I give some consideration to it. She seemed so wholly certain you would be willing to care for the poor child, and that your intervention would be beneficial to him. Why I should pay the least attention to her is beyond me. I often think she’s quite mad. But there is also something very influential about her when she has hold of an idea. I prefer not to think of it as witchcraft,” he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “There are simply occasions on which she speaks with such authority, when you yourself are floundering, that you cannot help but pay attention. She isn’t talking to your head, but to your heart. A very effective weapon, I assure you.”

“Yes, I can see how it would be. But—”

Greywell lifted a restraining hand. Only an inch, but he, too, held authority when he wished. “I want the child to live. Whether it is Abigail playing on some superstitious belief within me that I’m not even aware of, or whether it is my recognition that if matters remain as they are, he won’t, I’m not even going to try to ascertain. Either way, the end result is the same. I’ve come to believe that your coming to Ashfield would benefit Andrew. There’s no reason you should sacrifice your future for his—you had never met anyone in the family until this afternoon. My uncle seemed to think that you would, as did Abigail, but I found it difficult to imagine, myself.”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t come to help your little boy,” Elspeth protested, a feeling of alarm spreading through her that he might misunderstand. “If I thought there was something I could do . . . Even if that’s unlikely, I would be willing to come for a few weeks . . . to visit . . . to care for him.”

He smiled gently at her. “That’s kind of you, my dear, but I don’t think your father would approve of such an arrangement. You are not exactly of a class to be a hired nursery maid, or whatever you would be. And I very much wish to leave Ashfield. Please don’t think hardly of me, but the memories are too painful and I feel useless where Andrew is concerned. My gloom may be affecting him as much as that of the rest of the household, Miss Parkstone; I cannot overlook that possibility. I am needed at the Congress of Vienna, or so they insist.”

His gray eyes regarded her intently, his hands forming fists on his knees. He had leaned slightly forward in his effort to gain her comprehension of what he was saying. Elspeth could feel the beginnings of a nervous quivering in her hands, and she hid them under the apron. He was about to propose marriage; she knew it, and she was afraid, because she wanted to help him. Not enough to marry him, though. That was impossible. Out of the question. There must be some middle ground where she could prove the sincerity of her sympathy and yet not actually marry him.

He continued to speak. “If I went to Vienna, I would want to leave you at Ashfield with full authority to manage there as you wished. It would be unfair to leave you with such responsibility unless you were my wife, Miss Parkstone. I couldn’t possibly go, leaving you with the child, unless we were married. And I think you would find there were some advantages in marrying me. You would have an establishment of your own, without the inconveniences Sir Edward occasionally must provide. There is parish work to be done there as well as here, I’m sure. We could arrange a settlement which would virtually allow you the use of any money of your own, in addition to a quarterly allowance I would provide. Of course, the settlement would state that only your children would inherit from you; Andrew would be entirely my responsibility so far as his patrimony was concerned.”

When her face blanched, Greywell instantly stopped speaking. There, he’d done it again. What had he said now? “My dear Miss Parkstone, whatever is the matter?”

Elspeth waved a shaking hand. “Nothing, nothing. It’s just I cannot possibly marry you! Please, don’t say anything further. I should like to help. Truly I should. But I’ve told you I don’t wish to marry.”

Trying to suppress his impatience, he spoke very slowly. “Yes, so you’ve said. Nothing you’ve told me, however, provides an insurmountable obstacle. You would have a greater degree of freedom at Ashfield than you have here. Have I not made that clear? There would be nothing to interfere with your leading precisely the sort of life you wish, with the additional advantage of your being a titled, married woman with a new purpose in your life.”

Her hands still fluttered nervously in her lap, and he had what he thought was a flash of insight into her distress.

“You’re alarmed about what would happen if Andrew died, aren’t you?” he asked, relieved to get to the root of this problem. “My dear lady, you cannot possibly think I would blame you should the child not survive! I know you would do whatever was in your power, but these matters are not altogether in our hands, as I’m sure you would be the first to recognize.”

Her agitation did not seem to have lessened. She observed him with wide, frightened eyes, and fortunately another inspiration came to him. “I see what it is! You’re worried that there would be speculation if the child died that you’d wished to provide the Greywell heir yourself, and had not taken proper care of him. Never think it! People already expect the child to succumb. No one would consider such an unworthy, uncharitable possibility.”

Elspeth rose to her feet, choking over the words she tried to get out. “No, no! Please! I’m not feeling at all well. I must excuse myself. Believe me, I wish I could help you.”

She was gone before he could say anything, and Greywell sat stunned in his chair. Whatever was amiss with the woman? An uncharacteristic scowl settled on his face, and he poured himself another glass of the port, wishing it were brandy, but not willing to ring for anyone. Had she taken him in dislike? It hardly seemed possible, when she kept protesting her desire to help him. He had been considered a very eligible bachelor before he married Caroline. His countenance, his address, his aristocratic position, all were accounted more than acceptable.

Miss Parkstone was obviously somewhat erratic in her behavior, he told himself, to assuage his self-esteem. So it was no doubt all to the good that she wouldn’t have him. The thought of spending the rest of his life with her was somewhat unnerving. Greywell didn’t doubt her goodness or her virtue. He could even accept on faith her intelligence and her domestic competence. But wasn’t she likely to end up as dotty as Abigail Waltham, with all the fits and starts she’d exhibited in one single afternoon and evening? Was she the kind of woman he wanted to raise his child?

Surprisingly, he still felt she was his only hope, despite her odd behavior. The idea had taken hold of his mind that she alone would be able to coax Andrew to health. Greywell fervently wished Abigail had never put the thought in his head.