Rivals of Fortune / The Impetuous Heiress (11 page)

Joanna noticed that several of the desk drawers had been pulled out and the top looked very untidy. “What have you been doing?” she said again, horrified.

“Nothing,” answered Frederick unconvincingly. He crumpled a paper he held in his hand. “I didn't see why everyone should be asked but me. I came over to see the fun. But I can tell when I'm not wanted.” He turned as if to go to the door, but as he moved, he caught a foot on the fallen book and fell headlong onto the carpet. The paper he had been clutching floated away and landed before Joanna.

She stooped quickly and picked it up.

“Are you all right?” asked Erland, going to the boy and helping him into the desk chair.

“Yes,” said Frederick sullenly. He put his chin on his hand and sighed disgustedly. “If only I hadn't been so stupid as to knock over that book,” he murmured.

“What's this?” exclaimed Erland, bending over the desk. “I believe there's a secret drawer.”

Frederick sighed again. “The panel turns by a spring.” He looked down, shook his head with annoyance, and began to kick the leg of the desk.

Joanna made a sharp sound, and Erland turned to look at her. “This is yours,” she said, holding out the paper. “It is from your uncle.”

As the man walked toward her to take it, Frederick burst out, “It isn't fair. I found it! Why should I have to give it up?
He
never looked for it.”

“Oh, do be quiet, Frederick,” said Joanna sharply. “In a moment, I shall call Mama, and we will see what
she
has to say about your being here.” She turned her eyes back to Erland, who was reading and looking more and more astonished. He finished and met Joanna's eyes, shaking his head.

“This is incredible,” he said.

Joanna nodded. She had read it, too.

“Well, I think the treasure should be half mine,” put in Frederick. “I found the clue, after all.” Joanna glared at him, and he subsided.

Erland was still bemused. “It is my uncle's hand,” he said, staring at the paper. “I can't deny that, but surely it is some sort of joke. He cannot have meant this.”

“He was a queer old man,” ventured Joanna.

Erland frowned. “Yes, but to leave his fortune, if there is indeed such a thing, in this way?” He looked down again and read the letter aloud:

So, nephew, you have found this letter at last? I wonder how long it took you to find the drawer? Are you still a young man? Or old as I am now? That would be amusing. I should like to see it. But I shan't, of course.

You know I have always encouraged enterprise in you. A man should be able to make his own way in the world without the help of his elders. I did. You've done well enough for yourself, and I don't mind leaving the Abbey to you. You'll do better than that worthless son of mine would have. But I leave you one last test. You'll have the place, but not the money, unless you can find it for yourself. It's here; make no mistake. More than you ever imagined, I fancy. But I'll not make it too easy. If you remember your family traditions, you will find it. Otherwise, let it stay where it is until someone does.

Erland blinked. “Can he have been mad?”

“Doubtless,” replied a voice from the door, and all of them whirled to discover Sir Rollin Denby on the threshold. “I beg your pardon,” he added. “I find archery insufferable.”

There was a silence.

Finally, Frederick burst out, “What does it mean, ‘traditions'? Do you know?” He leaned forward eagerly.

But Erland shook his head. “I haven't the least idea.” He frowned. “In fact, I am convinced this must be rubbish, my uncle's idea of a joke.”

“Well, he
was
a great miser,” said Joanna uncertainly.

Erland's frown deepened as he tapped the letter with one finger.

“And a fortune is worth some hunting,” added Sir Rollin meditatively. They all turned to look at him again. “Ah, if you will excuse me; I fear I intrude.” He bowed slightly and left the room.

Erland watched him walk across the lawn.

“What are you going to
do
?” questioned Frederick.

“I haven't the least notion,” answered Erland. “Nothing, I suppose.”

Frederick snorted. “Well, if that's not the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You must search for it. Don't you want a treasure? I'll help you.”

The man's eyes rested on Joanna for a moment; she was frowning at her brother. “Oh, I should like a fortune,” he said, “very much.”

“Well, then, we must look for it.” Frederick got up and walked over to Erland. He peered at the document again. “Have you some famous family traditions?”

“What?” Erland looked down at the top of Frederick's head. “Traditions?” He considered. “I can think of none.”

“But there must be
something
. Why would he have said it?”

The man nodded. “Yes—that is true. My uncle was not given to idle remarks. Perhaps it does mean something.”

“Well, of course it does,” exclaimed the boy contemptuously.

“I must think about it.” Jonathan's eyes began to twinkle.

“I dare swear you should and I'll help you.” Frederick scanned the shelves above them. “Some of these musty old books might help.”

“Frederick, you will come with me to Mama this minute,” interrupted Joanna, outraged at her brother's nonchalance after his inexcusable behavior. “That is, after you apologize to Mr. Erland for breaking into his desk.”

Her brother gaped at her. “Apologize for finding the clue to the treasure? Don't be a ninny, Joanna.”

Erland laughed. “He has a point.”

“How can you encourage him?”

He spread his hands. “It appears I need the help.”

“Capital!” cried Frederick.

“But, you know,” the man added, “I think that the fewer people who know of this the better. It is a great pity that Sir Rollin happened to come in. I shall ask him to keep it quiet.” He did not look particularly happy about this prospect. “And if you do not mind, I shall ask the same of both of you.”

“I shan't tell,” replied Frederick stoutly, “word of honor. But Joanna will. Girls always gab.”

Joanna put her hands on her hips. “Do they indeed? Well, I can keep a secret as well as anyone, but that will not stop me from taking you to Mama.” And with this, she grasped her brother's arm above the elbow and hustled him out onto the terrace. His protests could be heard for some time.

Erland remained in the library for several minutes, deep in thought. When he finally returned to his guests, he scanned the scene carefully, not entirely surprised to see that Sir Rollin Denby had joined the group listening to Mr. Rowntree expound.

The day following Mr. Erland's picnic was naturally devoted to visiting and discussing it. The entire neighborhood, it seemed, was either receiving visits or making them. Joanna and her mother had the Grants in the morning, Selina still full of mortification over her clumsiness, and Joanna got a note from Constance asking her to tea at the vicarage. But these events were overshadowed by the afternoon call of Sir Rollin Denby and his sister.

The Rowntrees had seen little of Adrienne since her arrival. After her early call and their evening party, she had more or less ignored them. Thus, Joanna and her mother were surprised when a maid came to tell them that Adrienne and her brother were below.

“Just Mrs. Finley and Sir Rollin?” asked Mrs. Rowntree. “Is not Peter with them?”

“Only the two, ma'am.”

Mrs. Rowntree looked at her daughter, who shrugged. “Well, send them up, Mary.” The maid went out. “What can they want, I wonder?” murmured Mrs. Rowntree.

This was no more clear when their guests walked in. Adrienne was very splendid in a morning dress of amber cloth, trimmed with French braid. And the modishness of her brother's long-tailed coat and buff pantaloons was unsurpassed. But the callers seemed to have nothing particular to say. Adrienne sat down beside Mrs. Rowntree and began to chat languidly about the picnic. “So charming,” she drawled. “And that house!”

Sir Rollin arranged himself beside Joanna, one arm flung along the back of the sofa, and said, “And so, have you recovered from the excitements of yesterday, Miss Rowntree?”

“Excitements?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Don't you call them that? I confess that finding a clue to a treasure strikes me as exciting.”

Joanna looked toward her mother with some alarm. She had done as Jonathan Erland asked and mentioned the discovery to no one.

Sir Rollin smiled. “They are not listening. Have no fear, I shall not reveal the great secret.”

His voice held such mockery that Joanna flushed. “Mr. Erland wishes to keep the discovery quiet for the present.”

“Very wise of him, no doubt. I daresay, he would be plagued with treasure hunters if it came out. What does he plan to do?”

This last question was sharp, but in her flutter, Joanna did not notice. “I don't know. It is so hard to believe that there is really a buried treasure. It seems so odd.”

“Does Erland think it is buried?” asked Denby quickly.

Joanna raised startled eyes to his face.

He smiled down at her. “You see how the idea excites even my curiosity. It is an irresistible concept. I am so glad that there is at least one friend with whom I can discuss it.” He looked deep into Joanna's eyes.

The thought of being Sir Rollin's confidante thrilled her. She smiled tremulously at him, then dropped her eyes. His gaze was overpowering. She turned to look the other way and was nonplussed to find that Adrienne was staring at her, a hard unfriendly look in her eyes. Joanna looked down again quickly.

“My dear Miss Rowntree,” said Adrienne in a cold brittle voice, “I have just been telling your mother about our newest addition to the house. The grotto is nearly finished.”

“Is it?” asked Joanna. “How splendid.”

“Yes, but I am quite put out with Mr. Erland. He has stolen a march on me with his picnic. I meant to give one in our park when the work there was finished.”

“Well, I am sure everyone would enjoy another,” said the girl. “They all seemed to have such fun.”

Adrienne tittered. “Repeat an entertainment. Indeed not.”

“Adrienne means to dazzle the neighborhood with some unknown treat,” put in Sir Rollin mockingly. He met his sister's smoldering eyes with calm amusement.

“We are certainly experiencing a social whirl,” said Mrs. Rowntree. “I cannot remember so active a summer in this neighborhood.”

Adrienne chose to take this as a compliment to herself, and her expression softened. “I believe that one can be almost as well amused in the country as in London,” she replied graciously. “If things are arranged properly, of course.”

“We rely upon you to do so, my dear,” drawled Sir Rollin, and Adrienne looked nettled again.

How could brother and sister talk to each other so, wondered Joanna? Sir Rollin seemed to be almost goading her. And the looks she gave him were venomous. She glanced from one to the other uneasily. She and Gerald might be very different sorts, but he would never speak so to her.

“Have you been riding again, Miss Rowntree?” asked Sir Rollin, breaking her train of thought.

“Not for several days,” answered Joanna. “The afternoons have been so warm.”

“But you must ride in the morning in July, of course. Will you do me the honor of riding with me, perhaps tomorrow morning? I go out every day, but I confess that I am bored with my own company.”

“Oh. Oh, yes.” Joanna looked toward her mother, but though Mrs. Rowntree did not seem pleased, she said nothing.

“Splendid. I shall come by about ten then.”

Joanna nodded.

A muffled exclamation from Adrienne made them all turn to her. “I had nearly forgotten,” she said. “We have an important errand in Longton. We must be going.” Sir Rollin smiled.

The ladies escorted their callers out to the landing and watched them walk down the stairs. Mrs. Rowntree returned to the drawing room immediately, but something made Joanna linger by the doorway. A scrap of conversation drifted up from the front door below.

“I can't imagine why you insisted on coming here today,” Adrienne said to her brother. “We were mistaken; there will be no trouble from this quarter. And it's a dead bore visiting these bumpkins.”

“Is it?” murmured the gentleman.

“It is indeed, as you have been continually saying.” Adrienne's voice sharpened. “And I hope you do not think to set up that insipid child as your next flirt, Rollin. In the first place, it will not do, and in the second, it would drive me quite mad having her about. What a ninnyhammer! You should go to Brighton. You have nearly fixed your interest with Susan Chudley, and you should cement the bargain as soon as may be.”

Joanna could not hear what Sir Rollin said to this, but his sister's reply came floating up from the front lawn.

“Not marry Susan? You must be mad! I warn you, Rollin, if you whistle this fortune down the wind, you cannot rely on me to keep you. Sometimes I think you want to ruin yourself.”

Again, Sir Rollin's reply was an inarticulate murmur. But Joanna moved to the hall window in time to see Adrienne snatch her arm away from him and hurry to their barouche alone. Sir Rollin was laughing as he followed her.

Joanna was still thinking about this incident as she walked toward the vicarage at four. A host of new thoughts had been called up by her inadvertent eavesdropping, and she was not at all sorry to have overheard. Was Sir Rollin going to flirt with her? Was that why he did not go to Brighton and Miss Susan Chudley? The thought that the magnificent Sir Rollin Denby might make her the object of his attentions caused a flutter in Joanna's breast.

And the notion that she had been expected to “make trouble” for Adrienne was also unsettling. It was clear now that the Denbys had known of her attachment to Peter. Joanna blushed as she thought of that. Then, her complexion returned to normal when she remembered what Adrienne had called her. A ninnyhammer, was she? An insipid child? She would show that horrid woman that she was no such thing. Perhaps she would make her brother fall in love with her, and forget the rich Miss Chudley. Joanna toyed with the picture of Sir Rollin smitten with love for her. A small smile played about her mouth.

These thoughts were interrupted by a shout from behind her, and Joanna turned to see a horseman coming across the fields. It was Peter, riding fast. In a moment, he had pulled up beside her. “Hullo, Joanna,” he said a little breathlessly.

“Peter.” It was less a greeting than a question.

“I hoped to catch you today. I know you often walk here. I haven't had the chance before.”

Joanna frowned up at him.

Peter looked self-conscious. “That sounds odd, perhaps. I won't try to explain. I've been, ah, busy lately.”

“Yes, with all the work on your house,” replied Joanna. She felt awkward with Peter for the first time in her life and hoped to steer the conversation onto commonplace topics.

But Peter said only, “Yes,” and sat on his horse looking down at her.

Joanna shifted from one foot to the other. She did not know what to say. Peter, the easy companion of her childhood, seemed almost a stranger suddenly. Yet, there was such embarrassment attached to his presence as would never have been associated with a stranger. Joanna looked up at him uneasily. Why did he not say something? Her brows drew together. Peter looked pale, and his light blue eyes held an unaccustomed hunted expression. The untidiness of his blond curls and the carelessness of his riding dress were highly uncharacteristic of the man who had been the neighborhood dandy since he was sixteen.

“Where are you going?” he blurted suddenly.

“To the vicarage, for tea.”

He nodded. Then, with a quick movement, he dismounted and looped his reins over his arm. “I'll walk with you a bit.”

Joanna was disconcerted. “Oh, you needn't; that is, it isn't far. And I am late; I must hurry.”

Peter was looking at the ground. “That's all right. I won't keep you. But I want to speak to you, Joanna.”

There was nothing to be said to this, so they started off side-by-side. Peter said nothing more for a while. He seemed to be having difficulty with whatever it was he wanted to say.

Finally, when they were nearing the vicarage lane, he said, “Joanna, I meant to write to you. I really did. And I know I should have, but, well, what with one thing and another, I didn't. I wanted to apologize to you for that. To tell you I'm sorry.”

“It's all right,” murmured the girl, looking at the path.

“No, it isn't. I behaved badly, and I know it. But things happened so quickly, you see, and I…well, that's beside the point. I am sorry. I wanted you to know that. It's what I tried to tell you at your mother's party.” Joanna started to speak, but he shook his head. “You needn't say anything. That's all of it; I must get back.”

“I wish you happy, Peter,” blurted Joanna.

He had started to remount his horse, but now he turned back. “You're a first-rate person, Joanna. I wish you the same. And I hope you…never mind.” He swung up onto his horse. “I'm not such a coxcomb as to say that I'm sorry I hurt you. I'll just say again that I'm sorry.” And he turned his mount and rode off.

Joanna watched with wide eyes as he left. Peter had sounded so subdued and, not unhappy precisely, but pensive. He had not been at all this way in the past. What had been happening to make him seem so much older, she wondered?

Turning down the lane toward the vicarage, she continued to consider the conversation. She was not upset exactly, but she was preoccupied. She nearly walked past the Willistons' garden gate and had to turn and retrace her steps to go in. Constance was there, reading, and she rose as soon as she saw Joanna. “Hello. You are just in time. I was about to get up.”

Joanna returned her greeting absently, and the two girls entered the house. The family was just sitting down to tea, and they joined them when Joanna had taken off her things. Conversation was lively during the meal; the young Willistons always had a great deal to say. But Joanna took little part in it. Twice, a remark addressed to her had to be repeated, and she lost the train of the talk even oftener.

When she and Constance went upstairs afterward, Constance asked bluntly, “What is the matter, Joanna?”

The younger girl looked at her. She wasn't sure she should tell anyone about Peter's apology. “What do you mean?”

Constance shrugged. “I do not mean to pry, and you needn't tell me. But I can see that you have something on your mind. You've hardly said a word since you arrived.”

Joanna thought for a moment. She knew that Constance was trustworthy. And it would be comforting to talk over her experience with an understanding friend. Coming to a decision, she told the other girl the whole.

Constance was not surprised. “What he said was very proper. You deserved an apology. He might have done better just to write you in the first place, but as he did not, this was next best.”

“It was so odd,” said Joanna.

“It must have been.” The older girl looked at Joanna shyly. “I hope it was not too unpleasant. Your feelings for Peter…” At a loss for a way to finish, she stopped.

Understanding what she would say, Joanna nodded. “I have been thinking a good deal lately,” she replied. “And I do not think I ever really understood my feelings for him. We were always together, you see, and everyone had spoken of our marrying for so long that I simply took it for granted that I loved him.” She frowned. “And I did. But I begin to see that it was not the sort of love one feels for one's husband.”

“He was like a brother, perhaps,” offered Constance. “I remember how you and he always played together.”

“Yes,” agreed Joanna, “I suppose he was. Gerald was always too busy for me, and Frederick was only a baby. Peter was more like my brother than they were.” Joanna smiled. “I was very foolish, I suppose. It was so pleasant being with Peter, I thought it would be just as nice being married to him. But I think now that marriage is not at all the same thing.”

Constance returned her smile. “I believe you are right. One wants quite a different sort of man for that.” She flushed. “Not different from Peter, I mean, but one about whom one feels differently.” She shook her head. “I am getting all muddled.”

“No, I know what you mean.”

The two girls' eyes met, and they smiled again.

“So,” added Joanna, “it has not been so hard to see Peter as I imagined it would be. And I feel as if I had learned a great deal in the last few weeks. I feel years older.”