Rivals of Fortune / The Impetuous Heiress (21 page)

Her cup now full, Joanna beamed at them. “A bridesmaid! Oh, I have always wanted to be a bridesmaid.”

Gerald laughed. “Happy to oblige. No sacrifice is too great for my little sister's happiness.”

“Idiot,” laughed Joanna. “Oh, how wonderful it all is.”

“I propose some sherry,” said Mrs. Rowntree, “to celebrate this grand occasion.” She went over to ring for Mary. “Our first marriage in the family. I declare I could cry.”

Her husband looked at her apprehensively, and Gerald cried, “Oh no, Mama.”

“Well, I shan't, but I could. I am so happy.” She smiled and went over to put an arm around Constance. “I cannot imagine a finer addition to our family.”

Constance smiled tremulously back.

“Indeed, yes,” added Mr. Rowntree. “Did not Gerald tell me that you read Latin? You can help us with the glossary of Catullus we hope to prepare.”

The group broke into hearty laughter, to Mr. Rowntree's bewilderment, and Mrs. Rowntree led them all up to the drawing room for sherry.

A storm came up that night, and the steady rain that greeted Joanna when she woke the next morning made it obvious that there would be no work at the Abbey for some time. The drizzle had all the signs of one of those English rains that hangs on for days and days, stopping only for short intervals to tempt foolish persons out and then drench them.

But Joanna was not sorry to forego explorations for a while. Recent events had been so exciting that she could think of nothing else. She decided to call on Constance first thing. They had had no real chance to talk the previous day, surrounded as they were by the family, and Joanna wanted to tell her again how very glad she was.

The whole family was at breakfast when Joanna came down, by no means a usual occurrence. Mr. Rowntree was bemoaning the rain, as was Frederick. “We might have finished with that stone today,” said the former. “I'm certain that we were almost through the mortar. We might have raised it this very day. But of course, no one will wish to try in this rain.”

“Of course not,” agreed his wife. “And very right, too. You would all catch your death of cold.” She turned to her youngest son. “As will you, Frederick, if you go out. I positively forbid it.”

The boy's shoulders slumped. “Mother, I must go. It's very important. And I don't mean to stay outside more than a few minutes.”

“Where are you going? The Townsends?”

“No, well, that is, I…not exactly.”

“Where then?”

Frederick looked sulky. “Perhaps I will go to the Townsends.”

Mrs. Rowntree looked at him, sighed, then turned to her daughter. “What will you do today, Joanna?”

“I thought to call at the vicarage and see Constance.”

Her mother nodded. “Yes, I mean to call on Mrs. Williston myself. We can go together.”

After breakfast, Mr. Rowntree went grumblingly to his study, and his wife went down to speak to the cook. Frederick rose and started to leave the breakfast room, but Joanna called him back. He came, suspiciously.

“Where are you going today, Frederick?” she asked him. “You did not deceive Mama, you know. It was plain that you are planning some mischief.”

“I am
not
!” He looked outraged. “Must I always tell where I am going and when I will be back like a baby?”

“Well, lately you have certainly not encouraged us to trust you—sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

“I saw the thief that way!”

“Yes, and you might have been hurt, too. Where are you going today, that you do not wish to tell?”

The boy looked sullen.

“Frederick.”

“Oh, very well. I am going to the Abbey.” Joanna started to speak, and he added, “Mr. Erland invited me to come.”

“He did?”

“Yes, and he said he wanted to have a private conversation with me, just the two of us.” Frederick looked smug.

“Ah.” Joanna thought gratefully that Erland was keeping his promise to her. “But how will you get there in this rain? Mama and I must have the carriage.”

“Well, I shall take the gig. Don't worry, I shall wear a heavy cloak.”

“I suppose it's all right then, though I can't see why you did not simply tell Mama when she asked you.”

Her brother looked mulish. “This is to be a
private
talk. No one else need know of it.”

Joanna smiled; there was surely no need to worry if Frederick was with Jonathan Erland. “Very well. Mr. Erland is kind to ask you.”

“Oh, kind! I daresay he wants me to tell him more about the intruder.” Frederick looked mysterious. “And perhaps other things as well.”

“Perhaps. But he
is
kind.”

Her brother shrugged.

“Well, I must go and get ready to go out. Do you go soon?”

“Right after you.” Her brother grinned.

Joanna laughed and turned toward the stairs.

Half an hour later the ladies of the family were preparing to leave the house. “I daresay we shall get wet,” said Mrs. Rowntree when they met in the front hall, “even taking the closed carriage. It is raining harder.”

Joanna looked out through the narrow window beside the door. “Yes, it is a storm. But if we run to the carriage, we shall be all right.”

Her mother smiled. “You are very happy about Gerald's choice, aren't you Joanna?”

“Oh, yes. I have grown to like Constance so much, and she is interested in all the things Gerald loves.” She wrinkled her nose. “It is hard to understand, but she really
is
.”

“Indeed,” laughed her mother. “There is no accounting for tastes.”

Joanna laughed too. “No, but Constance is truly amazing, and they really care for each other. That's the most important thing.”

Her face softening, Mrs. Rowntree agreed.

The carriage was brought round, and they hurried through the rain to climb in. On the short drive, they talked about the wedding and what it would be like. Joanna was still excited at the idea of being a bridesmaid.

Their carriage was seen as it pulled up, and the vicarage door was flung open as they ran up the path. Mrs. Williston was there to greet them and help them off with their wet things.

“How glad I am that you came despite the rain,” she said. “I was just saying to Arabella that I should call on you today.”

Handing her bonnet to a maid, Mrs. Rowntree looked at the other woman. “We had to come, of course, to tell you how happy we all are.”

Mrs. Williston smiled. “As are we.”

The two women clasped hands a moment, exchanging a speaking glance, then Mrs. Williston swept the whole party off to the morning room, where they found Constance and her sisters sewing.

“Joanna,” cried Constance when they came in. She rose to meet them. The two girls embraced briefly, then Joanna stood back. “You look just the same,” she said. “How very strange.”

“What do you mean?”

Joanna dimpled. “Well, I thought an engaged woman had quite a different look from us poor spinsters.”

“Goose,” laughed Constance. She looked around. The two older women had gone to sit on the sofa, and they were deep in conversation. “Come, let us go upstairs.”

Joanna agreed willingly, and they went up to Constance's bedchamber.

“I am so happy,” said Constance, plumping down on the bed as Joanna took the armchair. “I feel as if all my dreams had come true.”

The other girl laughed. “It is hard for me to think of Gerald as anyone's dream, but I am happy for you nonetheless.”

Constance laughed, too, blushing a bit. “Well, he is. I have admired him since I was a little girl.”

Joanna nodded. “Tell me about the wedding,” she added, and in a moment, the two girls were lost in the intricacies of gowns, flowers, and wedding breakfasts.

It was nearly lunchtime before Joanna and her mother left the vicarage. They were asked to stay, but Mrs. Rowntree wanted to get home and see that her husband ate something. Their mood on the drive was one of quiet contentment. Everything seemed right with the world during that short space.

When they went in, they discovered Jonathan Erland closeted with Mr. Rowntree. He had been summoned, he told them, to go over the charts of the ruins yet again.

“Well, both of you must stop and come to the table,” said Mrs. Rowntree. “Luncheon will be served in five minutes, and I daresay, you need some refreshment after all your work.”

Erland came gladly, and Mr. Rowntree somewhat less so, and they were soon seated around the table.

“Where is Frederick?” asked Mrs. Rowntree. “That wretched boy has gone out in the rain even after I forbade him.”

“I saw him earlier today,” said Erland. “I believe he was going on to the Townsends.”

“Well, we shall not wait for him. He may go without lunch.” And Mrs. Rowntree signaled Mary to begin serving.

Erland looked at Joanna. With a slight nod of his head, he signaled that he had taken action on the problem of Frederick.

Joanna felt warmed by that idea.

“Saw Finley today,” said Mr. Rowntree abruptly. “Oddest thing—young Peter is quite changed.”

His wife frowned a little, glancing sideways at Joanna, but she replied, “What do you mean?” Mr. Rowntree so rarely noticed people that any comment he made was received with great interest.

“He looked ten years older,” continued the host. “Quite grim about the mouth. I couldn't understand it. Peter was always such a quiet amenable lad.”

No one had anything to say to this, and after a moment, Mr. Rowntree went on. “Daresay, it's that wife of his.”

They all stared at him, stupefied. It was the accepted family and neighborhood wisdom that George Rowntree hardly knew one person from another, and that he never noticed anything outside his study. Yet, once in a great while, he would stun them all with a remark like this one, proving that he was capable of noticing a great deal when he had a mind to.

He now noticed their stares. “Stands to reason,” he added. “A managing female. But I've got a notion young Peter is about to make a change in that.”

The ladies continued to stare. Jonathan Erland's lips twitched. “Do you, sir?” he asked. “What makes you think so?”

“It was the look about his mouth,” finished Rowntree wisely, “that always tells.” And he returned to his lunch, blissfully ignorant of the sensation he had created in his family.

“Well,” said Mrs. Rowntree finally.

Erland smiled.

“She sold his dog,” murmured Joanna dazedly.

“What?” replied her mother.

“Peter's wife. She sold Lucy.”

“No!”

Joanna nodded solemnly, and Erland broke into laughter. The two women turned to gaze at him.

“I'm sorry,” he gasped, putting his napkin to his mouth.

After a moment, Mrs. Rowntree smiled also, and soon, they were all three laughing merrily, to Mr. Rowntree's surprise.

Their guest held up his glass. “Here's to Peter,” he offered. “May he prosper in all he tries.” They all drank, smiling with varying degrees of amusement and understanding.

Jonathan Erland went home soon after lunch. Mr. Rowntree retired to his study, and his wife busied herself with household duties. Thus, Joanna was left alone in the drawing room with her sewing and a new novel. She mended three flounces, then turned to the book, but she had barely read four pages before the drawing room door opened cautiously and Frederick peeked around it.

“Frederick!” exclaimed the girl. “Where have you been? You missed your luncheon. Did you eat at the Townsends?”

Seeing no one else in the room, Frederick came in and shut the door. “It don't matter. Cook gave me something just now, but, oh, Joanna, I have found something!”

“Where?” asked his sister, looking him up and down. “In the ditches?” Frederick was indeed very dirty. His clothes were covered with streaks of dust, which the rain had turned to mud in places, and there was even dust in his hair. His nose and cheeks were liberally smudged, and his hands were simply black. As he walked toward her, he left marks on the drawing room carpet.

“Not in the ditches, stupid. At the Abbey.”

“The Abbey? I thought you were at the Townsends?”

“I told you I was going to the Abbey.”

“I know, but Mr. Erland said…”

“Oh.” Frederick had the grace to look guilty. “Well, the truth is, I told him I was going there, but I didn't. I went into the cellars.”

“What do you mean? The Abbey cellars?”

He nodded. “But Joanna, I have found something really important!”

She felt she should scold him, but she could not resist asking, “What?”

His blue eyes sparkled. “A passage,” he whispered, “a secret passage. It is behind the cellar wall where it looked as if someone had been working.”

There was a moment of total silence, then Joanna drew in her breath. “A secret passage,” she murmured.

Frederick grinned, pleased with the effect of his revelation. “It must lead to that hidden chamber Mr. Erland read of—and to the treasure. There's some stuff to be cleared out yet, then I'll see.”

Joanna leaned forward. “Where is it exactly?”

Frederick straightened and smiled derisively. “I shan't tell you
that
, of course. I don't want everyone getting to the treasure before me and taking all the credit. I shall find it first, then show them all.”

“But you must tell Mr. Erland. It is his house, after all, and his treasure.”

“Yes, I know that. No need to look so pasty-faced about it. I mean to tell him. He was very nice to me this morning. He's not one to scoff at what a person
sees
, at least. But I shall be first to the treasure; it's a matter of…of…honor.”

Joanna frowned. “You should tell him now. He would give you credit for being clever.”

“Not likely,” answered Frederick skeptically.

“But Frederick, it could be dangerous. You might be hurt.”

The boy looked at her sharply. “Thinking of that thief we chased off? He can't get into the house as I can. You needn't worry about him.”

Joanna, who had been thinking something of that kind, said, “Well, but this passage, it could be dangerous. It might fall and bury you, and we should never find you again.”

He grinned. “Not it. Sound as a bell.” He turned away toward the door. “I must go and wash before Mother sees me. I just wanted to let you know.”

“But Frederick!”

“Oh, do stop fussing!” was his only reply, and he left the room.

Joanna sat still for some time, a worried frown on her face. It appeared that Mr. Erland's “talk” had had little effect on her brother. And now she did not know what to do. To betray Frederick's confidences about the secret passage seemed wrong, but if he was in danger, and she was afraid he was, she should tell someone immediately. Joanna felt a strong desire to lay this problem, too, on Mr. Erland's shoulders. But should she? She could not decide.