Jilted Read online

  ‘Is she to your liking?’ asked Ilam as they both looked at the dainty mare being held by the viscount’s groom. ‘She’s still quite fresh and lively. I hope that she won’t prove to be too much for you.’

  ‘I hope so indeed. She’s beautiful,’ said Eustacia as she approached the mare. ‘I shall very much enjoy riding her.’ She went to the mare’s head and crooned to her.

  ‘Her name is Butternut,’ said the viscount. ‘She was bred at Ashbourne. Her father was a winner at Newmarket. I was thinking of selling her quite soon, but I shall retain her for your use while you are here. Shall I put you up into the saddle, ma’am?’

  Eustacia thanked him, and in no time, she was perched on Butternut’s back, effortlessly controlling her fidgets.

  ‘You’ve the mastery of her and no mistake, ma’am,’ said the groom, releasing the mare as soon as he was sure that Eustacia could manage her.

  ‘I was just thinking the same, Briggs,’ remarked his lordship as he mounted his own horse, a fine long-tailed grey.

  Soon Ilam and Eustacia were setting off on their ride, followed by his lordship’s groom. ‘We’ll have to walk them through the village, but then we’ll have a clear run to shake the fidgets out of them,’ said Gabriel.

  It did not take them long to negotiate the quiet main street of the village, and, as Ilam had promised, they were soon enjoying a refreshing canter across the fields, Briggs riding at a respectful distance.

  ‘That was wonderful!’ Eustacia exclaimed, as they drew to a halt next to a clump of trees.

  ‘Wasn’t it just?’ agreed Ilam, turning to look at her. ‘I hope that it was not too much for you. I fear that I have been rather thoughtless.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she answered, amused and a little irritated at the same time by her godmother’s fiction. ‘I am feeling stronger every day.’

  She smiled at him. His hair was a little dishevelled, as was her own, no doubt. His face was flushed and animated, his generous mouth curved up as he returned her smile, and something about his appearance made her catch her breath. For a long moment they looked at one another.

  He seemed on the point of speaking, paused, and eventually said, ‘What do you usually ride when you are at home, Miss Hope?’

  ‘I ride a grey mare a little bigger than Butternut, and very like yours in colouring,’ she replied.

  ‘And who will be riding her while you are away? Your mother?’

  ‘Oh no, Mama never rides,’ replied Eustacia, barely repressing a chuckle at the thought of her stately mother on horseback. ‘I expect one of the grooms will take her out. Papa may ride her occasionally, although he has his own favourite mount. He is not so …’ She paused, colouring. ‘He is not so big a man as you.’

  He laughed. ‘If I tried to ride Butternut, she would have permanently bowed legs, I fear. Harry does me very well.’ He patted his own mount.

  ‘Was he bred on your estate as Butternut was, my lord?’ Eustacia asked him.

  ‘My father’s estate,’ he corrected her, his expression losing some of its humour. ‘There is a difference. No, Harry was bought from a friend who wanted to reduce his stables. What of your mare? Does she come from your own stock?’

  Eustacia shook her head. ‘We are not horse-breeders,’ she replied. ‘Papa bought her from a local breeder. The same man provided me with my very first pony.’

  ‘How old were you then?’ Ilam asked her. After giving their horses a few minutes to catch their breath, they were now walking on slowly, leaving the clump of trees and beginning to skirt the edge of a meadow, in which grew a profusion of wild flowers.

  ‘I was six,’ said Eustacia. ‘My parents pretended that Papa had forgotten my birthday, and Mama brought me down to the stables to show him my first riding habit as a reminder. He was there with a broad grin on his face, holding Maisie by her bridle. I was so excited, I begged him to teach me to ride that very day. Did your father teach you to ride?’

  He had been smiling at her description of her birthday surprise. Now, his smile disappeared. ‘No, he did not,’ he answered. ‘To be blunt, Miss Hope, my father did not give a damn about me, save that he had an heir.’

  ‘But surely you must be mistaken in him,’ she put in. ‘Any father must be proud of his son. My mother….’ She was about to tell him about Charlie but when she saw the expression of contempt and disbelief on his face, the words froze on her lips.

  ‘But you see, I have no mother, Miss Hope,’ he replied.

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Have done, ma’am. I accept that as far as your parents are concerned, you are perfection itself. Allow me to know my own father. Believe me, he still finds me quite beneath his notice, and that suits me very well. Another day, if you will permit it, I will take you to meet the man who put me on my first pony. We have come in quite the wrong direction to do so today. Shall we canter again?’

  Eustacia nodded in assent, and for a short time further conversation was impossible, and she was glad of it. When they spoke again, their conversation touched such undisturbing topics as the nature of the terrain, and the seasonal changes to the countryside.

  On her return to the house, she invited Ilam to come inside, but he declined. ‘I must refuse your invitation on this occasion,’ he told her. ‘I have business to transact. Pray send my duty to my aunt.’

  She would have liked to apologize for over-stepping, but the groom was there, and there was no chance for private words with him.

  She went inside thoughtfully. Jessie Warburton had said that Ilam and his father did not get on. If anything, she had understated the case. The viscount clearly detested his father, and believed that the sentiment was mutual. She would have liked to discuss the matter with someone, but Jessie had gone, and talk that involved Lord Ashbourne obviously did her no good anyway.

  Lady Agatha appeared from the direction of the library as soon as she entered the hall. ‘Did you have an agreeable ride?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, it was very invigorating,’ Eustacia replied.

  ‘You are looking exceedingly well,’ replied the other, making her remark sound like a criticism. ‘Change your habit and come downstairs, and we will have a cup of coffee together. I am very ready to put down my work for a short time.’

  Trixie was summoned, and although she tut-tutted over the state of her mistress’s habit – a smear of mud having got onto the skirt – Eustacia had no doubt that the girl would soon have it looking as good as new again.

  ‘I’ve got some news about what you asked me the other day,’ said Trixie as she was fastening her mistress into a charming gown of white muslin sprigged with tiny purple flowers.

  ‘Really?’ Eustacia was more than half regretting asking Trixie to find out some gossip for her. However, she consoled herself with the thought that she would certainly not repeat the gossip to anyone else. Furthermore, Lady Agatha, a mistress of intrigue herself, could surely not object to her goddaughter doing a little intriguing of her own.

  ‘It seems that Lady Agatha’s chances were very good, as you said. She ruined them herself, by making friends with an actress. The vicar she married was the youngest son of an earl and the best she could get.’

  ‘She must have a had a dowry from her father,’ Eustacia observed.

  Trixie shook her head. ‘When she befriended the actress, her father refused to give her most of the money that was her due. She had some money, but the vicar was a gambler and lost it all.’

  ‘Trixie, I don’t think you should be saying that about a man of the cloth,’ said Eustacia reprovingly.

  ‘It’s no secret, miss,’ Trixie assured her. ‘He even borrowed Cumber’s savings and lost them all. Part of the reason why her ladyship is so short of money now is because she’s been paying back everything that he owed.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Oh, miss, do you think your mama was the actress she befriended?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Eustacia. ‘Thank you, Trixie. Don’t repeat any of this, will yo
u?’

  ‘As God is my witness,’ said the abigail solemnly.

  It was while Trixie was brushing her hair that they heard the sound of a carriage arriving. ‘Perhaps it’s the rake, miss,’ suggested Trixie, her eyes sparkling.

  ‘I doubt it,’ Eustacia replied. ‘Trixie, come away from the window,’ she added hastily, for the girl had gone tripping over to look out.

  ‘It’s only a clergyman,’ said Trixie in disappointed tones. ‘Well there’s an end to excitement for the day.’

  ‘I suppose Godmama will want me to go downstairs,’ reflected Eustacia.

  ‘Well I can’t do your hair quicker than I can do it,’ replied Trixie, almost giving the lie to her own words by the speed and skill of her fingers. ‘There. Now it’s done.’

  Eustacia walked slowly down the stairs, thinking about what she had learned from Trixie. Of course, mixing with an actress would have damaged Lady Agatha’s reputation. But witness how carefully Lady Hope had gathered those around her who were prepared to forget that association. Despite the dangers, however, Lady Agatha had not hesitated to offer her friendship, and in doing so she had ruined her chances of a good marriage. Perhaps Rayner had been prevailed upon to marry her, with the living as his reward. That must be the explanation. Obviously the present Lord Ashbourne had not seen fit to pay his sister what their father had kept from her. Perhaps that was why they were not upon good terms.

  If indeed this was the true version of events, then Claire Delahay’s daughter owed Lady Agatha a good deal, and no effort expended on her ladyship’s behalf could be too much to ask. It did seem strangely ironic that of the two ladies, it was the actress who had made the good marriage, whereas the peer’s daughter had not achieved what might have been expected of her.

  Her ladyship was waiting in the drawing-room, looking imposing in her usual black silk. At the sight of Eustacia, however, an expression of consternation crept over her features.

  ‘Oh heavens, child, you have been far too quick,’ she declared. ‘You must not be in here when Lusty comes in. I have planned what to say to him and your presence will spoil it entirely.’

  ‘I’ll go back up to my room then,’ replied Eustacia, making as if to leave the room by the way she had come.

  ‘No, no, not that way. He will see you,’ answered Lady Agatha in agitated tones. ‘Go into the parlour and wait there.’

  Eustacia slipped quickly into the little room where they always had breakfast. She did not close the door. If she were to be shoved out of the room so ignominiously, she would have no compunction whatsoever in listening to what was said.

  No sooner had she pulled the door to, than she heard the sound of another person entering the room that she had just left. ‘Lady Agatha,’ said the voice of the newcomer. Its sound was faintly familiar.

  ‘Mr Lusty,’ replied Lady Agatha. ‘I presume you have a very good reason for intruding upon me at such a time as this.’

  ‘Forgive me, my lady, but I have always understood that this is a perfectly reasonable hour for visiting,’ Lusty replied.

  ‘I am referring to my mourning state,’ Lady Agatha declared with dignity.

  The clergyman flushed. ‘I am aware that you are in mourning, ma’am,’ he said. His voice was a pleasant one, and Eustacia now remembered that she had heard him speaking briefly, just as she was arriving at the vicarage at the beginning of her visit.

  ‘I should think you might well be aware of it,’ Lady Agatha replied, ‘since my late husband was a clergyman. He must indeed be turning in his grave at the abuse visited upon me by his brethren in holy orders.’

  Eustacia had to smile. Although, unlike Lady Hope, she had never trod the boards, Lady Agatha was clearly an actress of no mean order.

  ‘You have my sympathies, my lady, but—’

  ‘Yes, so you have said,’ Lady Agatha interrupted wearily. ‘Your sympathy appears to be a house of straw, sir. It makes not a whit of difference to my situation as far as I can see. However, that is not the matter that I wished to draw to your attention at this time. What is of far more concern to me is the health of one who is near and dear to me.’

  ‘Miss Warburton!’ exclaimed the clergyman in anxious tones. ‘Do not say that she is ill?’

  ‘Jessie? No, she is not ill. She is presently on a visit to my dear friend Lady Hope.’

  ‘She is from home?’ The clergyman still sounded anxious.

  ‘Yes, she is from home,’ said Lady Agatha at her most haughty. ‘What is that to you?’

  ‘Why … why….’

  While Mr Lusty was struggling for words, Lady Agatha spoke again. ‘While you are making sentimental enquiries about a lady who is far above you, sir, my goddaughter lies upstairs upon a bed of pain.’

  Eustacia almost choked. She clapped her hands over her mouth. She was at a loss to understand what her godmother might be about.

  ‘A bed of pain?’ echoed Lusty. ‘But she seemed in perfectly good health when I last saw her.’

  ‘Through a carriage window whilst you were leaving in haste – rather too hastily for politeness, in fact,’ said Lady Agatha, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his haste had been due to the fact that she had been at his back with an umbrella in her hand. Eustacia bit back a giggle at the memory.

  ‘But what ails her?’ asked the clergyman, a question which Eustacia very much wanted to echo.

  ‘If the doctors could say what it might be, then they could no doubt effect a cure,’ replied her ladyship scornfully. ‘Her mother has sent her to me in the hope that the milder climes here in this sheltered spot may be helpful to her. Imagine the scandal should she be thrown out of this refuge, only to perish on the street! What the newspapers would make of it, I dread to think.’

  ‘Surely it cannot be so serious?’

  ‘Are you calling my goddaughter’s mother a liar, sirrah?’ her ladyship demanded.

  ‘No, no, of course not,’ responded Mr Lusty hastily. ‘I am just … surely … if the illness does not even have a name….’ His voice tailed away.

  ‘Every illness has to acquire a name at some point,’ said her ladyship haughtily. ‘Then, of course, there is my brother, Ashbourne, to be considered.’ She sighed heavily.

  ‘What of Lord Ashbourne?’ asked the clergyman.

  ‘Ashbourne is very attached to my goddaughter,’ replied her ladyship, surprising the young lady in question very much. ‘It was by his expressed wish that she should be placed in my care. I dread to think what he might say should he find that she had been ejected by the church, in her delicate state of health.’

  ‘I see,’ responded Mr Lusty. ‘Do you think…? Should I go and offer her some spiritual solace, perhaps?’

  Eustacia took a deep breath, wondering whether she ought to run up the stairs and fling herself upon her bed. Her godmother’s next words reassured her.

  ‘Perhaps on another occasion. I have not had time to prepare her mind today. However, I am sure, Mr Lusty, that a man like you with such a deep sense of the needs of the sick will appreciate that my goddaughter cannot possibly be moved now, or indeed for some considerable time.’

  ‘Well, yes, indeed, my lady. However, you must understand that—’

  ‘Must understand, young man?’ echoed her ladyship at her most magisterial. ‘And what, pray, is it that I must understand?’

  ‘I … I was just going to say that I must take advice from the bishop,’ he murmured.

  ‘Very wise,’ agreed her ladyship condescendingly. ‘I am sure he will advise against murdering a sick girl and alienating a powerful landowner. For now, I must not delay you. No doubt you have other families to evict before dinner.’

  ‘My lady, I—’

  ‘I would be obliged if you would not bruit the news of my goddaughter’s delicate health throughout the neighbourhood. The shock of having herself the subject of gossip could easily prove to be the end of her. Good day to you, Mr Lusty.’

  Evidently the clergyman could not summon up his courage to
think of a riposte to this, for there was simply the sound of mumbling, followed by the closing of a door. Eustacia waited until she was quite sure that the visitor had gone before slipping out of her hiding place.

  ‘Hah!’ exclaimed Lady Agatha, in a satisfied tone. ‘That’s dealt with him very nicely for the present.’

  Eustacia could not help laughing, but eventually she asked with a hint of reproach, ‘Godmama, how could you?’

  ‘What do you mean, how could I?’ responded her ladyship, honestly puzzled.

  ‘I have already told you that I am not ill. In fact, I enjoy remarkably good health, and seldom have even so much as cold. Now, thanks to you I have to play the role of a person with some nameless illness whenever anyone from the church comes near.’

  ‘None of them will,’ replied the other. ‘Now that they know you are sick, they will stay away out of respect.’

  ‘Perhaps for a time, but not for ever. Mr Lusty is sure to come back, then what do I do? I might not be out of sight next time. I might be out riding or going for a walk. As far as Lord Ilam is concerned, I am getting better, but Mr Lusty now thinks that I am getting worse by the day. If I am to play a part, I would at least like it to be a consistent one. And another thing: Lord Ashbourne is supposed to be concerned with my welfare, but I have never even met the man! What if he turns up?’

  ‘He will not do so,’ declared her ladyship confidently. ‘As for Lusty, I have told him that you are here for your health, remember? You would need to take part in all these activities in order to build you up. Besides, there are some illnesses in which the sufferer gives the illusion of perfect health, especially just before the end. Ring for wine, would you, my dear? I am so glad that you have come to stay with me. You are going to be such a help to me, I can see. Oh, how entertaining this all is! I am having such fun!’

  Eustacia stared at her godmother in amazement. She had always known that the older lady was something of a rogue, yet it was Lord Ashbourne’s wickedness that everyone spoke about. To Eustacia, it seemed that it was rather his sister who had absolutely no scruples whatsoever.