CHAPTER TWO #4
“How can you say so?” uttered Lucy furiously. “I never heard anything so autocratic in my life! Until this morning you did not know of my existence.”
“True. But you having obligingly informed me of it, I have no alternative but to take charge of you from here on out.”
Stunned, Lucy could only stare at him. He waited, apparently impervious. At last she found her tongue.
“You must have taken leave of your senses. Why in the world should you wish to be saddled with an impecunious and illegitimate relative?”
“Oh, I don’t wish it,” he said, infuriatingly calm. “I am perfectly certain you will prove to be a curst nuisance, but I was never one to shirk responsibility. Unlike your father.”
Lucy was on her feet. “How dare you? Papa was the soul of duty. He would never —”
“I was referring to your biological father,” interrupted Stefan, also rising.
“Don’t call him so to my face,” ordered Lucy, too angry to be mollified. “I will never think of him in that light. Papa was my true father, even if he did not participate in my advent.”
“I quite agree,” said Stefan, taking the wind out of her sails.
“There is a great deal more to being a father than the mere donation of seed. But that does not negate your heredity, or the fact that my uncle’s duties devolve upon me.
And you, Miss Lucy Graydene, whether you like it or not, have today become one of those duties. ”
Dinner at Pennington Manor proved to be a protracted affair.
The first delay, initially a boon to Lucy, was occasioned by the non-appearance of the lady of the house.
It afforded Lucy the perfect opportunity to tell Lord Pennington just what she thought of his overbearing behaviour, except for the fact that Dion was alone when she came into the Red Saloon, which meant she must keep her tongue when his lordship arrived.
She had retired seething from his study, intent upon finding a way to remove from the wretched man’s home as swiftly as she could.
Lucy had common sense enough remaining to realise a precipitate and instant flight, dictated by instinct rather than reason, was ineligible.
Instead of rushing down the wide staircase and out of the front door as she would dearly have liked to do, she went into the nearest large room, found a bell-pull and set it pealing.
The servant who came in answer looked startled, but readily led her back through the rabbit warren of corridors to her allotted chamber.
Lucy took due note of landmarks and counted corners, intent upon finding her own way back.
With a brief enquiry about the expected time of dinner, she dismissed the footman and shut herself into the room.
For an uncountable time, she paced up and down in front of the four-poster, making shadows on the windows as she passed.
Her cogitations veered from fury with the current Lord Pennington to the despairing memories evoked by her conversation with him, and back again.
At length she realised the better part of the tumult of her mind was concentrated upon the wretched man’s iniquitous assumption of guardianship.
It was perfectly absurd. How in the world had she come to this?
And so quickly. From a vague and unformed desire to confront her real father to find herself thus bound to a stranger?
It would not do. She would not tolerate it.
She was of age and no one could dictate to her, least of all a man who had no claim upon her whatsoever.
What was he about to be trying to draw into his family a woman whom he could not, with honour, introduce to his acquaintance?
Lucy tried to think of a valid motive, and failed.
Most gentlemen in his position would, like her putative father, have turned her out with a paltry settlement.
His lordship had claimed it for an inescapable duty, which was nonsensical.
Setting aside royalty, one did not recognise a bastard.
Or if one did, one set them apart in an establishment that did not impinge upon one’s public life.
Was that what he meant to do? Had Lord Pennington some notion of setting her up in a cottage somewhere upon his estates, provided with a servant to attend to her wants and a small pension?
Lucy contemplated such a life for a moment, and found it wanting.
What in the world would she find to do? She would be bored beyond endurance.
Used to keeping house and helping the vicar in his parish duties, she would stifle in such a lifeless existence.
Better to adhere to her original plan and hire herself out as a governess or companion.
That settled, she had nothing to do but inform Lord Pennington of her unalterable determination to remove from his house at the earliest possible moment.
A perfectly simple task, the thought of which had an uncomfortable effect upon her stomach, like the squirming maggots she had been aware of much earlier in this extraordinary day.
Lucy put it down to hunger and her thoughts turned to dinner. At which point, it was borne in upon her she had nothing suitable to wear. Her black gown was respectable, but it could hardly pass muster at Pennington Manor.
Seizing her bandbox, Lucy scrabbled within it for her comb, wondering if she’d had the forethought to provide herself with the black lace shawl she used at home in the evenings.
She had inherited it from the late Mrs Graydene, who had been an indefatigable lace-maker and seamstress.
At the least, Lucy might put it about her shoulders and pin it at the bosom.
She was obliged to turn out the contents of the bandbox before she was induced to recognise that forethought had been lacking.
There was nothing to be done but to wash her face and hands, comb and dress her hair again, and put a clean lace cap upon her head.
She would have to apologise to Mrs Ankerville and Dion.
Nothing would induce her to address any apology to his lordship.
It was his fault, after all, that she was so ill prepared.
In the event, she felt her lack less since the Ankerville family were still in half-mourning and she found Dion had changed into grey silk. But Lucy’s nerves were in shreds, and the last thing she needed was the ensuing bombardment from her new cousin.
“Good gracious, there you are at last! Where have you been, Lucy? I declare, you are as bad as Stefan. No, I don’t mean that, of course, for he is the horridest of men at times.”
With which statement Lucy was in the fullest agreement. She was obliged to bite her tongue on the hot words which rose to her lips.
“Where is Lord Pennington?”
Dion, who had been busily drawing Lucy to the sofas, halted to cast a mischievous look upon her.
“Oh, dear, has he sunk back to that? I thought we had agreed to leave off formality.”
Lucy curbed the diatribe she longed to embark upon, instead confining herself to a clipped response. “I don’t feel inclined to drop formality with your brother.”
To her consternation, Dion burst into giggles. “You have quarrelled with him, I suppose. Well, I cannot blame you for that. I did myself.”
Pressed into the sofa, Lucy sat down, staring up at the younger girl. “What happened? When did you quarrel?”
“When he came back from your conference. The wretch would tell me nothing of what was said, and when I would have gone in search of you, Stefan would not let me.”
Lucy had not supposed she could be grateful to his lordship, but this speech served to make her feelings veer wildly.
Thank goodness he’d had the sense to do as much.
He had unwittingly spared her at a moment when she would have found it hard to summon a modicum of common courtesy.
An unwelcome thought sneaked into her mind.
It could not be that he’d prevented Dion from bearding her for Lucy’s own sake?
No, of course not. If he had any consideration for her feelings, he would not have behaved in that imperious fashion.
“But you are here now.” Dion’s eager voice cut in on her thoughts. “And Stefan is late. So pray put me out of my misery and tell me what happened?”
“I beg you will hold me excused,” began Lucy, but she was immediately interrupted.
“No, that is too bad of you, Lucy. I will not hold you excused. If you don’t tell me, I shall be thinking you and Stefan have a pact.”
“A pact with Lord Pennington?” uttered Lucy outraged. “Most certainly not!”
Dion clapped her hands, her tone gleeful. “There now, I knew you had quarrelled. Was he abominably overbearing?”
Lucy could not contain her spleen. “He was unbearably autocratic, and I tell you now, I will not endure it!”
“Splendid! How often have I said the same.” Dion leaned confidingly towards her from where she perched on the opposite sofa.
“He is dreadfully like Corisande, you must know, except she is so single-minded about her passion it does not disturb us so very much. Stefan, on the other hand, has a great sense of family loyalty, and once he has taken one of his ideas into his head, there is no moving him.”
A statement which did little to endear him to Lucy. Her determination intensified. She was not a member of his unfortunate family.
“And now you are recognised as one of us,” continued Dion blithely, “of course you are bound to come in for your share of his commands.”
Lucy shot up from the sofa. “I am not one of you! A mere accident of birth is not to determine my future. I will not have it so. But a short while ago I had never even heard of the Ankerville family. I will not be coerced into accepting them.”
Catching Dion’s open-mouthed astonishment, Lucy stopped abruptly. She drew a series of short breaths, trying to steady her mind.
“Forgive me. I should not have spoken to you so. You are not to blame for this hideous predicament.”
From the doorway, Lord Pennington’s cool tones cut in. “The Ankerville family accepts your apology.”