The Tudor Signet (22 page)

For the next two days, a gale accompanied by torrential rain kept her at home. Ralph was irritable. He had already lost most of his winnings and he was anxious to be in Plymouth recovering his fortunes, but the weather was bad enough to coop him up. Mariette did her best to entertain him with endless games of backgammon, draughts, and cribbage.

Nonetheless she found time to make considerable progress on the new dresses she was sewing. Uncle George had insisted on her purchasing several lengths of pretty materials, though she had held firm against the expense of a seamstress for anything but the habit.

On the third day the wind calmed and the rain ceased. In spite of heavy clouds hanging over Bell Tor, Mariette and Jim set out for Corycombe.

In the drive, they caught up with a hired chaise. Mariette was astonished and alarmed to see Captain Aldrich within, fearing some injury or illness had prevented his riding from Devonport. However, when he stepped down at the front door he looked perfectly well, though a trifle flushed when he turned to smile at Mariette.

“I daresay, Miss Bertrand, you wonder at my hiring a carriage,” he said self-consciously, offering his hand to help her down.

“Yes, sir,” she agreed, though she had guessed as soon as she saw him, “but I feel sure Lilian would say that is a personal question I ought not to pose.”

Instead of his usual riding clothes, he wore dress uniform: white breeches, stockings, and waistcoat, blue coat with gold braid and epaulets, cocked hat, and his dress sword at his side. “I wanted to arrive in parade order,” he confided as they ascended the steps.

“You look very smart, Captain.”

He failed to return the compliment, but Mariette willingly forgave him. Under the circumstances he could not be expected to notice her elegant habit--she was sure he intended to try his luck with his beloved.

She would not for the world embarrass him by wishing him luck. Besides, he did not need it.

He rapped twice with the gleaming brass lion’s-head doorknocker. They heard raised voices, then running footsteps. Charles flung open the door.

“Thanks be you’re come, sir!” he cried. “Mr. Blount, ‘tis the captain!”

“Thank heaven, thank heaven!” quavered the aged butler, hurrying forward as Captain Aldrich strode into the hall, Mariette at his heels.

“What’s to do?” he demanded.

Emily reached him first and seized his arm. “Sir, sir, you will help Mama, will you not? Miss Thorne says they are not to be disturbed and Blount doesn’t know what to do and Charles dare not interfere without an order and Miss Thorne says I am only a child and not fit to give orders against--”

“Hush, Emmie.” Mariette put her arm about the weeping girl. “Hush, my dear, and let Blount explain to the captain.”

“Captain Aldrich has nothing to say in the matter!” Miss Thorne stood in the middle of the hall, arms akimbo, her sharp face pale with anger. “Blount, I forbid you to discuss her ladyship’s affairs with a stranger.”

The butler threw her a look of deep dislike. “It’s this way, sir. Lord Wareham must have come in the back way for the first we knew of it was Charles here heard him in my lady’s private room. Shouting something dreadful he was, but it’s true as madam says we’ve instructions not to go in there ‘less her ladyship rings....”

His last words were spoken to the captain’s back as he headed for the passage to Lilian’s room.

Miss Thorne called shrilly after him, “If you will meddle, I wash my hands of the whole business.”

“Good!” said Emily, speeding after him.

“Emily, come back!” Mariette’s cry was ignored. Recalling Lord Wareham’s attack on Ragamuffin, she was horribly conscious of his propensity for violence--and of Captain Aldrich’s infirmity. “Blount,” she ordered, “fetch the grooms at once. Charles, come with me.”

“At once, miss!” The butler scurried off.

“I’m right wi’ you, miss.”

Running, Mariette and the footman reached Lilian’s room as Captain Aldrich, having paused for a moment to listen, threw open the door.

“Unhand her, villain!”

Just like all the best Gothic romances. Mariette felt a giggle rise in her throat though she had never felt less like laughing. She grabbed Emily.

Trapped in Lord Wareham’s arms, Lilian beat on his chest with impotent fists. The captain’s irruption into the room wiped the smug smirk from the baron’s face but he did not let her go.

“Get out,” he snarled, “or I’ll see you cashiered. With the greatest pleasure.”

Lilian turned her white face towards the door and ceased to fight. “Desmond!” Her voice cracked on his name.

With a sweeping gesture, he drew his sword. “Let her go,” he repeated through his teeth.

Lord Wareham’s hands dropped to his sides and Lilian stepped back to lean weakly against the wall. Mariette pulled Emily aside, speechless with fright, so that Charles could go to the captain’s aid if necessary.

“It’s easy to draw on an unarmed man,” taunted Lord Wareham.

“It’s easy to persecute a defenceless woman,” Captain Aldrich retorted. “I’m ready to meet you any time, anywhere. Name your seconds, my lord.”

“You cannot suppose I’d fight a duel with a one-armed nobody!”

The captain laughed. “So you need two hands to wield a sword, too, do you?”

His face livid with fury, the baron started forward. Captain Aldrich stepped aside and, bowing slightly, with his sword gestured him onward to the doorway. Charles slipped through and stood opposite the captain, his back to the open door as if seeing out any departing guest. His rigid pose was properly footmanly, his eyes fixed on the middle distance, but his large fists were clenched.

Lord Wareham hesitated.

From the front hall came a thunder of heavy boots in a hurry. Mariette looked back to see Benson, the head groom, and three stableboys galloping along the passage, followed at a creaky trot by Jim and Blount.

“Goodbye, my lord,” said Captain Aldrich coolly. “I trust you will remember in future that Lady Lilian is not a defenceless woman.”

“Rest assured I shall forget nothing, Captain,” Lord Wareham hissed. “You have not heard the last of this!” He strode out.

The grim-faced stablehands opened a way for him then closed in behind and tramped after. Charles took his lordship’s hat and gloves from the small table by the door, and murmured to Mariette, “Don’t want to give him an excuse to come back. We’ll see him off atween us, miss, never fear.”

As he dashed off, Lilian ran to Captain Aldrich and flung herself on his chest, weeping. His sword clattered to the floor and he clasped her close in what she appeared to find an eminently satisfactory one-armed embrace. Mariette was debating whether she ought to play chaperon or allow the pair their privacy when Jenny hurried up.

“Well, bless me!” she gasped. “They said Lord Wareham--”

“It is all right, Jenny,” Mariette assured her. “Her ladyship does not need you for the moment. Will you tell Blount to be prepared to produce a bottle of Champagne?”

“That I will, miss,” said the abigail, beaming. “This very minute!”

Emily had none of Mariette’s qualms. She pulled Mariette into the room and shut the door. “In case Miss Thorne comes,” she whispered. “Mama does not mind the captain holding her, does she? Not like Lord Wareham?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m so glad.” She heaved a satisfied sigh. “I shall like to have Captain Aldrich for a step-papa.”

“Hush!”

In fact, oblivious of both company and decorum, the happy couple were fully occupied in exchanging vows and kisses in equal measure. Emily watched and listened, fascinated.

Mariette, embarrassed and envious, drew her away to the window. Thence they had the felicity of seeing Lord Wareham’s dogcart race past as if pursued by forty devils, though his only pursuers were Benson and the stableboys. The four stopped at the corner of the house and continued the pursuit by means of jeers and catcalls, fortunately indistinct within the house, and rude gestures, all too visible.

Emily applauded.

“Oh!” Very pink, her cap awry, Lilian broke away from the captain’s embrace, leaving him with a grin liable to split his weathered face in two.

Emily ran to her and hugged her. “I’m so happy for you, Mama.”

“Truly, Emmie? You will not object to having a step-papa?”

“As long as it is Captain Aldrich. Did Lord Wareham want to marry you, too?”

“Yes, but only because he is deeply in debt. He found out somehow that though we live quietly I have a considerable fortune besides Corycombe--”

Captain Aldrich’s grin vanished and he groaned. “You do? Lilian, you don’t think I--”

“Of course not!”

“But everyone else will believe--”

“Let them.”

“I ought not--”

Lilian stamped her foot. “Desmond, if you think you can honourably withdraw an offer of marriage simply because I happen to be quite wealthy, I shall never forgive you.”

“I don’t dare!” He pulled her close. Over her head he winked at Emily and Mariette. “I can see I’m going to hitch myself to a shrew and live beneath the cat’s paw.”

“Shall you mind?” she asked saucily.

“Provided you don’t decide to wear the breeches, not in the least.” He bowed his head to kiss her. She put her arms around his neck and raised her face.

Mariette seized Emily’s hand and dragged her from the room.

“Well!” said Emily as the door closed behind them. “I never thought to see Mama behave so.”

“Nor I,” Mariette agreed.What changes Love had wrought in the once sedate, proper widow!

When they reached the front hall, they found lurking there all the indoor servants except the lowliest scullery maid. Boult stepped forward.

“Her ladyship, miss?” he enquired, his lined face anxious.

“Unless it is rung for sooner,” said Mariette loudly, “you may serve Champagne with luncheon.”

Through the servants’ respectfully hushed huzzas cut Miss Thorne’s acid voice. “Champagne!” She stood in the drawing-room doorway like a witch in a fairytale. “Just who do you think you are, Miss Bertrand, to give orders in Lady Lilian’s house?”

The servants vanished. Mariette, taken aback, was about to acknowledge with chagrin that she had no right whatsoever to issue orders to the butler. Emily spoke first.

“It is a celebration, ma’am,” she explained eagerly, “and it will be more fun if it is a surprise.”

“A celebration!”

“Mama is engaged to be married to Captain Aldrich.”

“To Captain Aldrich? Humph! And what has Lord Wareham to say to that?”

“Nothing,” said Lilian quietly. Her arm linked with the captain’s, she had come up unnoticed. “Pray wish me happy, Cousin Tabitha.”

“I am sure I hope you will be happy,” said Miss Thorne in a tone expressive of her expectations to the contrary. “But to dismiss a gentleman of the nobility in favour of....” She faltered to a halt before Lilian’s steely gaze.

“You must be relieved not to have to stay to observe my wedded bliss. When I am married I shall no longer be obliged to have a companion so you may in good conscience go to keep house for your brother, as I know you have long wished. In fact, I should not dream of delaying you until the wedding. Benson shall leave today to bear Mr. Thorne news of your coming, and my carriage shall be at your disposal as soon as you are packed.”

Miss Thorne’s mouth dropped open and two fiery spots stained her sharp cheekbones. Then she drew herself up again and snapped, “I fear you will bitterly regret this start, Lilian. What your father the marquis will say I dread to think. I wash my hands of you.” She stalked past them and up the stairs.

Lilian laughed softly and ruefully. “At last! Desmond, you will not turn tail if Papa is a trifle choleric to begin with, will you? I shall come around him in the end.”

“I daresay you can wind him about your little finger? I’ll be sorry to vex the man who helped me to my present position, but you shall not be rid of me so easily.”

She cupped his cheek with a loving hand, which he took and kissed. Restored to gaiety, she cried, “Did I hear the word Champagne? Blount, we shall drink it now, in the drawing room. And a glass of port to everyone in the servants’ hall to drink the captain’s health.”

“And yours, my lady.” Blount appeared from nowhere in the fashion of all good butlers. “Allow me, on behalf of myself and the entire staff, to wish your ladyship very happy.”

“I am, Blount, I am! Champagne is not nearly celebration enough.” Suddenly thoughtful, she led the way into the drawing room. “I know, I shall give a ball!”

Chapter 14

“A ball!” Mariette and Emily spoke at the same moment, in the same startled tone.

Captain Aldrich gazed fondly on his betrothed. “A ball?”

“A ball. I shall hire the best assembly room in Plymouth and invite the neighbours and your Navy friends, Desmond, and both our families. We shall need new gowns, girls.”

“You mean I may go, Mama? I am not too young?”

“How could I celebrate my betrothal without my dear daughter?”

Emily ran to kiss her mother, and her new step-papa into the bargain.

“I cannot ask Uncle George for a ball gown,” Mariette said wistfully. “He has given me so much lately. Will it serve if I sew a bit of lace and some ribbons onto one of the new dresses I’m making?”

“Oh, if you ladies are going to prattle of clothes, I’m off,” said the captain.

Lilian reached for his hand. “Don’t go, I need you. Mariette, my dear, you heard Captain Aldrich’s dismay when he heard of my fortune. It is clearly my duty to ease his trouble by spending it, so I hope you will assist by accepting the gift of a gown.”

The captain laughed. In some confusion, Mariette stammered, “Indeed, I cannot--”

“But you absolutely must look your best for my ball. You are the only one of my friends whose support I know I can rely upon.”

“Malcolm is on our side,” her betrothed assured her. “I’d not have had the nerve to offer without his approval.”

“But Malcolm may not be able to come to the ball. Please, Mariette?”

“Oh, how can I resist when you make it sound as if I shall be doing you a favour? A ball! I can scarcely believe it.” Even if Malcolm did not come, she resolved to enjoy what might very well be the only ball she would ever attend.