The Bishop's Daughter (6 page)

Although not fond of Reverend Thorpe, Harry did not dislike his cousin either. At times he even thought Adolphus was not a bad sort, except when he appeared to be half-choking on his clerical collar. As Harry strode up the steps to join the vicar beneath the portico, he noted with half-humorous dismay the way Reverend Thorpe tugged at his starched neckband as though to draw attention to the badge of his authority.

"Cousin Harry," he said sternly.

"Cousin Adolphus," Harry replied pleasantly.

"My lord, I scarce know what to say to you—"

Being familiar with Adolphus, Harry was damned sure he was going to think of something. "Whatever it is, I am sure it can keep till later. I am done in. It has been, saving your presence, one hell of a day."

"Others might say the same. You should go to your stepmother at once and beg her pardon for the distress you have brought her. She is prostrate, my lord, completely prostrate."

"A man is only entitled to have one female swoon in his arms per day, Adolphus. I have already had mine. You may feel quite free to take on the next one."

"My lord!" the vicar explained in outraged accents.

"Believe me, Adolphus," Harry said. "I am not being totally unfeeling. For me to go to Sybil would be like exposing an already sick woman to a case of the pox. She will be much more ready to receive me when she has recovered a little."

Harry managed to edge past the vicar, slipping inside the hall, only to run dead into Julia. He was not surprised this time. Julia was frequently to be found hovering at her brother's elbow.

She glowered at Harry, apparently still annoyed with him for having whisked Kate out of her clutches.

"Lytton, I must speak to you. Your conduct—"

Harry stopped her with an upraised hand. "My dear Julia, I know I promised you the pleasure of giving me a setdown, but I fear it must once again be deferred. I must have a word with all those guests you so obligingly herded into the front salon, perhaps even raise a glass with the squire. Timothy Keegan informs me that English memorial services are sadly wanting, and I feel I should do something to raise our reputation."

Having effectively rendered both of the Thorpes speechless with indignation, Harry strolled on his way, whistling cheerfully.

Although the gathering in the salon never reached the proportions of what Keegan would have termed a passable wake, the atmosphere became much more convivial with Harry's entrance. The ladies fussed over him and called him a naughty rogue; the squire swearing that by god, even if his lordship did keep refusing to sell those hunters, the squire was damned glad to see the lad home safe again.

The only ones of the party to leave early were the Thorpes. The vicar's barouche rumbled down the drive at a great speed as though eager to distance itself from the hall and the return of its incorrigible master.

Julia stared out the coach window, her flawless profile as hard and unyielding as if carved of marble. She bore the dubious distinction of being acclaimed the loveliest spinster in the shire. Her beauty had never been enough to compensate for her lack of fortune or her fixed belief that she could improve the character of any man she met.

She even felt that she could have redeemed her cousin Harry if he had ever asked her to be his wife. But as his lordship had never shown the good sense to make her an offer, Julia had long ago washed her hands of him. She was not so ill-natured as to wish that Lord Lytton had died at Waterloo, but his return promised to be a great nuisance, especially from what Julia had already observed of his attentions toward Kate.

It was not that Julia was in the least jealous on her own account. The chief source of her vexation was that she had already marked Miss Kathryn Towers down for her own brother. As the carriage rattled past the park gates, Julia turned to the vicar seated opposite her and broke the rigid silence they had maintained since leaving the hall.

"Well! Now that Lytton has returned, you may be assured, he will be stirring up some mischief."

"There is nothing new in that, my dear," Adolphus said.

"I fear he may have already begun . . . with Kathryn Towers." Julia observed her brother closely for his reaction.

"Why, I thought that was one of Lord Harry's more commendable actions today, his solicitude for Miss Towers."

Solicitude! Julia pressed her hand to her eyes, the degree of her brother's naiveté as ever confounding her. Only a blind man would have mistaken the lover-like way Lytton had swooped up Kathryn in his arms and charged back to the house with her as being mere solicitude. His lordship had appeared suitably distraught and heroic enough to set several more young ladies off into a swoon.

"Lytton's attentions to Kathryn were most improper," Julia said. "As her friend he should have allowed me to take care of her. He actually thrust me aside. I could not hear all that he said to her when they were alone in the Hunt parlor but—"

"Julia! You were never eavesdropping."

"It was my moral obligation to do so. Lytton was practically holding the poor girl a prisoner in that room."

"I cannot believe that even Lytton would seek to molest a respectable young woman beneath the roof of his ancestral home."

"He was not molesting her. I think he is trying to fix his interest with her."

"What! On such brief acquaintance?"

"He had met her before," Julia explained with strained patience. “Two years ago in Chillingsworth. There were even rumors that Lytton wished to marry Kathryn, but the bishop would have none of it."

"Oh." Adolphus blinked.

Julia found the single syllable as a reply most unsatisfactory.

"Is that all you have to say?" she demanded, "when I have just told you that your ne'er-do-well cousin may be planning to steal your intended bride."

Adolphus's lips curved in a deprecating smile. "I would not dare call Miss Towers so. We are not on such terms as that."

"You could be, if you would make the slightest push. Have I not told you that she is perfect for you, Adolphus? Absolutely perfect?

"Yes, you have, my dear. Upon many occasions." Adolphus squirmed. "Miss Towers is a most amiable young woman, but—"

"Amiable! She is modest, well-favored, bred to be a clergyman's wife and . . . and simply perfect," Julia finished by breaking off what she had actually been about to say. It would do no good to point out to one as lacking in ambition as Adolphus Kathryn's other charms. Although only possessed of a respectable competence, Kathryn's chief fortune lay in her connections. She had one uncle highly placed in the cabinet of the present ministry, to say nothing of her circle of acquaintances within the cathedral close at Chillingsworth. It was most unfortunate that her father, the bishop, should be dead, but Kate still retained enough influential friends to be certain that her future husband would not be left to languish as parson of some obscure country vicarage. Julia intended to see her brother become a dean or at least an archdeacon with several livings at his disposal.

Adolphus should see for himself what a good match Kathryn would be, but instead his brow furrowed into a troubled frown.

"You may be right, Julia— I mean, of course you are right," he hastily amended. "Miss Towers is perfect, but if, as you believe, Lord Harry should have some notion of settling down and wish to wed the young lady, I do not feel it would be right to set myself up as rival to him."

As Julia fixed him with a cold stare, her brother stammered, "You tend to forget my position here. Although he is our cousin, Harry is also lord of the manor. I can never provoke his lordship while I owe him such a debt of gratitude. It was he who presented me with the living."

"Lytton would have presented St. Benedict's to the first tinker coming down the lane," Julia said scornfully, "if only to spare himself further responsibility in the matter."

Thus dismissing her brother's obligations to Lord Lytton, Julia proceeded to inform Adolphus how he should call upon Kathryn at once to see how she fared, perhaps even take her a small nosegay from the parsonage garden. But neither coaxing nor insisting could move him to do so.

"I have a sermon to finish for the morrow," Adolphus said, his jaw jutting in stubborn fashion.

Julia saw that nothing she could say would convince him and, although considerably annoyed, was obliged to give over for the moment. Adolphus could be led to a certain point, but when he waxed obstinate, it was best to let be or she would only have more difficulty reopening the subject of his courtship later.

Julia had realized a long time ago that she was much more clever than her younger brother. She would never have been so unmaidenly as to admit being discontent with her lot, a frustration that her sex barred her from the education that seemed to have been wasted upon Adolphus. Instead, she found her solace by managing his life for him.

It distressed her when she thought that perhaps Adolphus might truly be content to be no more than the vicar of Lytton's Dene. She had far greater plans for him, and neither his modesty nor Lytton's interference were going to ruin these schemes.

When they arrived at the vicarage, Adolphus's last word on the subject was to pat her kindly on the shoulder and tell her not to fret. "I am sure the Almighty will decide whom your good friend Kathryn should marry."

Although Julia bowed her head in pious acquiescence, she realized that the Almighty frequently had a way of arranging things not to her satisfaction. But not this time, she thought, her lips thinning dangerously. Not if she had anything to say in the matter.

Come what may, Julia vowed, Lord Lytton would not have Kate.

Maisie Towers settled herself upon the window seat and stole one glance through the sun-glazed panes, hoping for some sign of a carriage billowing in a dusty cloud along the lane. Surely Kate should have been home by now. Mrs. Towers began to fret and then adjured herself not to be a fool. Kate was not likely to break any bones attending a dedication service upon a hillside.

No, not any bones, Mrs. Towers thought, suppressing a worried sigh, only her heart. She forced her gaze away from the window and summoned an attentive smile for her guests, all the while wishing them at Jericho.

Mrs. Prangle, the archdeacon's wife, had been ensconced upon the settee for over half an hour, her inquisitive eyes taking in every detail of the cottage, her sharp, unlovely voice rasping at Mrs. Towers's nerves. Seated upon either side of Mrs. Prangle were her two red-haired daughters. Doubtless in a few years they would grow to be most sensible girls, but now they showed a distressing tendency to giggle.

"And I told archdeacon," Mrs. Pringle trilled on, "that I was going out this way to visit my sister in any case, so I must stop and call upon Mrs. Towers and dear Kathryn. Such as pity she should be away from home."

Mrs. Towers smiled, nodded, and wished she had accompanied her daughter.

Mrs. Prangle arched her neck, glancing about her. "This is a charming house, although rather small. Have you got but the one parlor? And such a tiny dining room. Rather a change for you, my dear, after the splendor of the bishop's palace."

The Misses Prangle giggled their agreement.

"The cottage is large enough for Kate and me," Mrs. Towers said mildly. She liked the coziness of her small house, although at the moment she wished it were located at the tip of Wales, too far for Mrs. Prangle and the other gossipy ladies of Chillingsworth to call. Dear Kate had meant to be so kind, arranging it that her mother should be near her old acquaintances. Mrs. Towers had been quite unable to tell the poor child she had no desire to see most of those prying women again.

"The late bishop, rest his soul, was such a saintly man," Mrs. Prangle said, her bonnet feathers nodding as she mounted a fresh attack. "He never used his position to amass a fortune as some might have done, did he?"

This was such a bald-faced attempt to discover how Mrs. Towers and Kate had been left circumstanced, that Mrs. Towers stiffened. She had never known how to depress such impertinence. Kate would have known how to answer Mrs. Prangle. Kate had always known, far better than her retiring mother, how to deal with the never-ending stream of canons' wives, prebendaries' daughters and vicars' nieces who had trickled through the drawing rooms of the bishop's palace.

But Kate was not here, and Mrs. Towers did the best she could. She succeeded in changing the subject by inquiring after the archdeacon's son at Eton.  

As Mrs. Prangle boasted how young George had become the boon companion of a duke's son, the china clock upon the mantel chimed three. Mrs. Towers noted with alarm that Mrs. Prangle might linger until tea time and that Kate still had not returned home.

Her anxious gaze traveled to the window once more. She had never been able to divine the true extent of Kate's feelings for the late Lord Lytton, but all her motherly instincts told her that her daughter was hiding a great deal of pain.

She should have put her foot down, duty be hanged, and not permitted Kate to go through the ordeal of attending that dedication. But she never had been able to take a firm line with Kate. Sometimes she stood a little in awe of her own daughter, so reserved, so self-possessed, so much like her father.