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Authors: A Clandestine Affair

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BOOK: Sally James
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“Oh dear, my poor old friend. But I’m very pleased to meet you, Sir Ingram. You are dining with us, you say? Geoffrey, you must stay too. Mary, my dear, perhaps you had better tell cook. This will be a pleasant change, to have an impromptu party!”

Thankfully Mary escaped, not heeding Mr Knowle’s expostulations. He always demurred when unexpectedly invited to share a meal, but as frequently succumbed to Mr Wyndham’s persuasions. She went to the kitchen, hoping that cook and Susan, having been belatedly warned of two extra people for dinner, could provide enough for yet two more.

Having been reassured by cook, who prided herself on her good management and resourcefulness, Mary returned to the parlour to take Teresa upstairs to change her gown. Sir Ingram excused himself at the same time, saying that he would give instructions to his postilion to go on to the inn in the village, and Matthew was left to face his father, wondering uneasily how he would receive the news of his escapade.

He need not have been concerned, for Mr Wyndham immediately demanded Mr Knowle’s opinion on the alternative merits of translating an obscure phrase literally or with a more modern symbolism. They were engrossed in this for some time until Mr Knowle, who had been casting it suspicious glances from time to time, suddenly enquired what a greatcoat was doing in such an odd place.

“Oh, it’s Teresa’s parrot,” Matthew replied, and went to remove the concealing coat.

Released from its dark solitude, the bird seemed lively.

“Damn bird, dandy, damn bird, dandy,” he repeated in a sing song voice, until Matthew hastily covered him up again.

Mr Knowle frowned. “Not the most attractive of creatures,” he commented. “And it seems they invariably learn language unsuitable for feminine ears from the sailors who bring them back from foreign lands! Is it possible to get them to forget such phrases?”

“How should I know?” Matthew replied, irritated. “I’ve only seen the damn bird a couple of times before today!”

“Tut, tut,” Mr Knowle said playfully. “The - er - bird, appears to be a quick learner!”

Matthew eyed Mr Knowle resentfully, but as Sir Ingram then came back into the room the topic was abandoned. Mr Knowle, considering it part of a clergyman’s duty to know all he could about his parishioners, subjected Matthew and Sir Ingram to detailed questioning which drove Matthew to castigate him silently as a prosy old woman, while giving surly uninformative replies. Sir Ingram, refraining out of courtesy to his host from administering the crashing set down he considered Mr Knowle deserved, nevertheless contrived to intimate to him that his questions were ill-bred and superfluous. Mr Knowle, frustrated in his laudable desire to follow the path of duty, and in addition aware of his own consequence as the son, albeit a younger one, of a well-born family, was at a loss how to deal with Sir Ingram and lapsed into a gloomy silence. Mr Wyndham, sublimely unconscious of the undercurrents, found himself telling his guest all about his work, and immensely enjoyed answering the intelligent questions he was asked.

“Your father, Sir Edward, would have made an excellent scholar,” he said in reminiscent mood.

“Of the three of us that were friends, only Anthony Drake became a don. Your father had his estates to care for, and I met Hester and was content.”

Dinner was announced, and despite Mary’s misgivings proved an excellent meal. To the roast beef, fowls and tarts that had been planned had been added a cold ham, some pies that had been prepared for the following day, and some fish intended for breakfast. Supplemented with dishes of green peas, hastily gathered by Susan, and salads, and followed by a syllabub and a great bowl of strawberries, it was a meal to satisfy.

Sir Ingram devoted himself to entertaining Mary, and she found herself greatly enjoying his easy conversation. Was he truly the ogre that Teresa claimed, she wondered, or had the girl exaggerated too much? Unaware that she was revealing a great deal about her situation and way of life, she was drawn out skilfully by means of leading remarks and adroit comments. By the end of the meal Sir Ingram knew all about Mary’s uncomplaining acceptance of the task of housekeeping for her father, and drew his own conclusions about Matthew’s character.

Mr Knowle, placed disadvantageously on the other side of Sir Ingram, directed most of his conversation to Mr Wyndham at the head of the table, leaving Matthew and Teresa free to exchange low remarks. There were few of these, however, for Matthew was gloomily blaming himself for the failure of their plans, and Teresa was too conscious of her cousin sitting on the other side of the table to utter much more than monosyllables.

At last Teresa and Mary withdrew, and Mary led the way into the parlour.

“Well, my dear, we have come through that pretty well, I think,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Now, what do you wish to do? Your cousin does not seem the tyrant you described.”

“Oh no, he is clever and able to exercise his charm in company,” the girl replied bitterly. “I saw that he was out to enslave you too! He has a way with women, except me, for I know him too well to be taken in by his flummery!”

“I dare say, and I must believe what you tell me, but I find it hard to think him a murderer.”

“He will let nothing stop him from gaining his own way. What am I to do? I will
kill
myself rather than go back with him!”

“Oh, that is a little extreme, surely? It is impossible for you to marry Matthew now, and I must confess that with both of you so lacking in money, such a plan would not be feasible. We must attempt to persuade him to allow Matthew to see you in town, and hope it will all turn out for the best.”

“He won’t permit it. I know he’ll send me to stay with Great Aunt Hermione. And if we were married, Ingram would have to give me a sensible allowance, so money does not matter. Now he’ll banish me, and keep me away from London until I agree to marry him, while he is entertaining himself with his mistresses!”

“Teresa!” Mary was not shocked at the fact that Sir Ingram should have mistresses, for she was aware many men did so, even in the plural, but she was startled to hear this child speak of the situation so frankly, especially as, according to her, Sir Ingram intended to marry her.

“Oh, he has, several,” Teresa said, misunderstanding. “I saw him once, driving with one of them. ‘A prime bit of Haymarket ware’, Godfrey called her. He was with me and explained who she was,” she added calmly, and Mary began to wonder how fitting a suitor this Godfrey Delaine had been.

“What of your mama?” she asked gently. “Could she not help you? Surely Sir Ingram does not have control over her income, even if he does over her capital?”

“Yes, he does, for papa made a monstrous will leaving it all in his hands! Papa died two years ago, and I think he had always regarded Ingram as a son, although when Ingram’s father died, ten years ago, Ingram was about three and twenty and did not need papa to advise him. And it is mama who was Ingram’s father’s sister,” she concluded indignantly and breathlessly.

“Do you both live with him?” Mary asked.

“Yes, for what he allows mama will not provide her with a house of her own. He says she is a bad manager, which may be true, for mama never knows what she has spent or how much anything costs, and I dare say would be shockingly tricked, but that still does not give him the right to treat her so abominably. And he also maintains that he must control me! It is beyond bearing, and if he forces me to go back I shall just run away again! Please may I not stay with you? I like it so much here.”

“Well, if he is your guardian, you must obey him, I suppose, but I will try and persuade him to permit you to stay here for a while. Though I doubt if he will allow it if Matthew remains here too,” she warned.

“Naturally I want to be with him, but I would do
anything
to escape from Ingram, apart from going to Cheltenham, that is!”

“Cheltenham would be livelier than Appleacre,” Mary said, smiling. “We don’t have assemblies and there are very few parties. I think you would find it excessively dull after a short time.”

Teresa declared that she enjoyed country life, and began making plans for having her horse sent down so that she could ride with Mary, consequently she was in a tolerably cheerful frame of mind when the men joined them. Soon the tea tray appeared and when Mr Knowle, saying he had to take an early service the following day, rose to depart, Sir Ingram did the same.

“I will walk with you to the village if you will be so good as to give me your company, and direct me to the inn,” he said easily, and Mr Knowle inclined his head stiffly.

Mary bade them farewell, and Mr Knowle contrived to say to her in a low voice that he would come again in the morning when he hoped to obtain a word with her in private on a very important matter. Abstractedly she smiled at him, and then gave her hand to Sir Ingram, who bowed elegantly over it.

“My thanks for your hospitality, Miss Wyndham. Do not allow my cousin to make a nuisance of herself. I will deal with her if she is naughty.”

They were gone, and Mr Wyndham, incurious as to why his son had unexpectedly arrived home with these unknown guests, murmured that he had some ideas to write down before he had forgot them, and drifted towards his study. Mary then firmly sent Teresa to bed, saying she looked fagged to death, and when Matthew would also have retired, compelled him inexorably back into the parlour.

“Damn bird, dandy, dandy, dandy,” the parrot greeted them, his covering greatcoat having disappeared with Sir Ingram.

“Oh, can’t we find a cover for the wretched bird?” Matthew exclaimed in disgust.

Mary searched for a piece of cloth, and threw it over the cage.

“I wonder who the dandy is?” she asked with a laugh. “Not Sir Ingram, surely?”

“Rodney Morris, I should think,” Matthew returned shortly. “Mary, what am I to do?”

“First I must know who Rodney Morris is,” she protested, laughing.

“Oh, just some fellow who’s for ever hanging about Teresa’s mama. I expect Ingram has described him as a dandy and the bird has picked it up. But that’s not important!”

“No, but I was intrigued. It was just one more part of this whole mad escapade. Matthew, how
could
you do such a thing? Not just elope, which is bad enough and like to give rise to scandal, but to do it in such a mutton headed way, with no money, and making it perfectly plain where you would be!”

“There was no other option,” Matthew insisted. “He does treat Teresa in a most abominable way, and she begged me to save her. If you had seen her, Mary, prostrated with fear, you could not have left her to his vengeance! As for money, she said she had plenty. How was I to know she would spend it? But she’s so innocent like that, she needs caring for.”

“Are you the right man to do it?” Mary asked bluntly. “She’s seventeen, and you are only a little older at twenty-one. Can you make each other happy?”

“We love each other,” he said simply.

“That may be, but she is wealthy and we are not. You know what people will say. While I maintain that the Wyndhams are fit to marry anyone, would it be a wise marriage? They do not seem to be our sort, for I understand they move in the highest society. Might not Teresa resent it, later, if she feels she has married beneath her?”

“She is not so mean spirited! And we are as good as the Leighs. Why, Sir Ingram’s father was papa’s friend at Oxford. And Teresa’s father made his money in trade with the Indies.
He
was not well born, but her mama was permitted to marry him!”

“You are young. Do consider it well,” Mary replied, and then fondly kissed him

goodnight.

 

Chapter 3

 

Early the next morning Mary was busy in the garden gathering peas, and wondering how she could help Teresa. She had completely forgotten that she ought to be preparing for a visit from Mr Knowle, as she went over and over the information Teresa and Matthew had poured out to her the previous day and tried to reconcile it with the largely favourable impression Sir Ingram had made on her. He could be hard, she thought, and most likely had been on his best behaviour while her guest, but would he really beat Teresa, and even make attempts on her life as she maintained he had done, and as Teresa was so terrified he would do again because of her defiance? She envisaged him attacking a trusting friend in some dark alleyway, beating him to death, merely to prevent approaches being made to his cousin, and could not believe her imaginings.

Did he wish to marry Teresa, as she insisted? There was certainly nothing loverlike in his attitude towards her, indeed he treated her rather as if she were a naughty child. It must be her money. Mary was not stupid, and although she had known of many love matches, her parents, and her friend Caroline, for instance, she was well aware that there were many marriages where the preferences of the parties involved were of no account. It was the distaste she felt for such arrangements that was preventing her from coming to a decision about Mr Knowle. Yet from what her father had said at breakfast when he had been reminiscing about his friends at Oxford, Sir Ingram’s father had been very rich. Could Sir Ingram have dissipated his inheritance, possibly with the help of his mistresses, and for that reason wish to secure Teresa’s fortune? Surely, with the attractions that she had been so conscious of the evening before, he could have secured a more willing bride if he had needed to marry for money. Teresa was not the only heiress, but even if she had been, could he be so desperate as to murder a rival?

She shivered as she thought that Matthew might have put himself in an exceedingly dangerous situation, and a low laugh from behind her caused her to swing round in surprise, dropping her basket and scattering the pods in all directions.

“Surely you cannot be cold on such a fine morning! Or is it your thoughts that cause you to tremble? Has Teresa been painting me as the wicked cousin, merciless towards her and all her friends?”

Mary blushed at the accuracy of his observation, and to cover it stooped and began to pick up the pea pods.

“I did not hear you and was startled,” she said crossly.

BOOK: Sally James
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