CHAPTER TEN #2
The atmosphere was chilly, to say the least. Lucy might have expected Lord Sarclet to be expansive, for he had the son he craved.
Not only had Dion informed Lucy of his lordship’s long disappointed desire for a boy, but Paulina herself, during lucid intervals, had said much of her hopes of pleasing her husband with a son.
But whatever delight Lord Sarclet had manifested had dissipated by the time Lucy entered the Red Saloon in company with Dion.
She had been chivvied into washing and changing her dress, and felt obliged to apologise for keeping everyone waiting. “I’m afraid I fell asleep.”
“A good thing too,” Stefan said warmly.
Mrs Ankerville had pointed an accusing finger at Lucy. “You are born into the wrong age, Lucinda. You would have done very well in the Middle Ages, for women in that time were expected to assist each other with everything concerning confinements. It was a rough age, and —”
“Yes, yes, Mama,” hurriedly interposed Dion, “but should we not go into the dining parlour?”
“— there was no purchase in being delicate,” continued Mrs Ankerville, as if Dion had not spoken, but she moved to Lucy and put a hand through her arm, leading her towards the door.
“There were no doctors on call the way there are now, and women had to have knowledge of the lore of healing, among all the other things that fell to their lot.”
Her dissertation lasted well into the first course, and was only interrupted at last by Stefan, who cut in without ceremony, addressing himself to Lord Sarclet, in the tone reserved for moments of irony that Lucy at least recognised. “Have you no word of gratitude for Miss Graydene, Thomas?”
Lord Sarclet was seated opposite to Lucy, with Dion on his right. She had been aware of him studiously avoiding her gaze, and could not help feeling embarrassed by Stefan’s probing.
He cleared his throat, shoving his head forward and allowing his bulbous eyes to rest on Lucy for a brief moment. “Naturally. Obliged to you.”
There was a silence stiff with unspoken feeling. Dion’s eyes sparked, and catching a glimpse of Stefan, Lucy saw his frown intensify. She hurried into speech.
“There is no need. I would have done the same for anyone.”
Lord Sarclet cleared his throat again, but did not speak, addressing himself to his plate.
“How is Paulina faring?” asked Mrs Ankerville. Lucy blessed her for saving the day, and thankfully resumed her own meal.
“She is recovering well, I am relieved to say,” said Lord Sarclet. “Crick thinks she may be able to be moved in a week or two.”
“A week or two!”
The exclamation came from Dion. Lucy glanced up, fearful of hearing her cousin protest outright. Fortunately, Stefan intervened.
“We will of course be happy for Paulina to remain until she is completely recovered.”
Lord Sarclet looked across at him, and then at Lucy, catching her eye briefly before he turned his attention back to his plate. “I fear that may depend.”
“Upon what?” asked Dion, looking puzzled.
“Paulina is wishful of returning home as soon as possible.”
“She would do better to remain here,” pronounced Mrs Ankerville in judicious tones. “It is never wise to travel too soon after one’s confinement. The jolting of the carriage can be excessively uncomfortable.”
Lord Sarclet was looking mulish. “I dare say, but under the circumstances, I must confess myself in sympathy with my wife’s wishes.”
Lucy caught a flash from the man’s eyes directed at herself. A sensation of dismay ripped through her like a shock of icy water, settling in a pool in her stomach. She had not far to seek for Lady Sarclet’s reason.
Stefan was the first to break silence, an edge to his voice. “To just what circumstances do you allude, cousin?”
Lord Sarclet sniffed. “I think you understand me perfectly, Pennington.”
“I hope very much that I do not.”
The edge was now pronounced, a riffle of anger lending coldness to Stefan’s voice. Lucy began to feel sick with dread and upset. She caught Dion’s lively look of question, and prayed she would keep her mouth shut. It had not occurred to Lucy to fear Mrs Ankerville.
“I see what it is,” she said, in a perfectly matter-of-fact way. “Paulina has told you of Lucinda’s relationship to her. I suppose there was no hope but the matter would cause you to hold up your nose in that stuffy way.”
Lucy bit her lip to stop herself from screaming. She could see Stefan’s tight-lipped fury and Dion’s open-mouthed shock.
“It is true,” said Lord Sarclet, his tone measured but peevish. “My wife confided the matter to me the moment she felt sufficiently recovered to converse. I may say I was shocked by the revelation, but more so by your action in admitting such a person into your establishment, Pennington.”
Dion gasped, whipping about in her chair to stare at him. “I don’t know how you dare speak in such a fashion. After all Lucy has done for Paulina today!”
Acutely embarrassed, Lucy watched the man turn on Dion, his jaw stiff as he jerked out the words.
“Much as I deplore her involvement, I cannot think it but fair recompense for having brought on the labour prematurely. If Paulina had not —”
“If Paulina had not come badgering poor Lucy this morning,” interrupted Dion furiously, ‘she wouldn’t have gone into labour. It is her own fault!”
Much to Lucy’s relief, Stefan cut in. “Be quiet, Dion.”
The relief was short-lived, for Stefan then turned to Lord Sarclet, and there was contempt in the cool tone.
“Whatever the rights and wrongs of the encounter, Sarclet, I have to say I am astonished at your incivility. Not to mention the base ingratitude of yourself and Paulina in the face of Lucy’s invaluable assistance.
Most of all, permit me to say that neither you nor Paulina has the right to dictate my actions in my own house. ”
Lord Sarclet glared at him. “I am not unmindful of the girl’s usefulness today.”
“Usefulness!” echoed Dion.
He paid no heed. “But the fact remains she was instrumental in bringing about Paulina’s distresses.
And you, Pennington, must share in the blame.
What possessed you to dig up such a skeleton in my deceased father-in-law’s closet is a matter for your own counsel, no doubt, but anyone would take you for a lunatic. ”
Stefan’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Dion sat huffing and puffing like a pair of bellows. At any second, one or other would speak again and only make bad worse. Lucy could bear no more.
She got up from her chair, drawing all eyes. “Enough! Enough, if you please.”
From the lower end of the table, Mrs Ankerville clapped her hands. “Quite right, Lucinda. Stand up for yourself, child.”
Lucy acknowledged this but barely, turning her attention to Stefan. “I thank you for your support, but I must agree with Lord Sarclet. It was the shock of realisation of who I am that brought on Paulina’s labour.”
“Fiddle!” burst out Dion, but Lucy threw up a hand.
“Pray let me speak, Dion. I wish it had not happened, but events moved so fast there was no opportunity to undo the harm.”
“Which was not caused by you.”
“Dion!”
Lucy threw Stefan a look of gratitude, and fought to speak through an increasingly unsteady voice.
“Furthermore, Lord Sarclet echoes my own opinion about the unwisdom of my being brought into this household. For my part, my sojourn has never been anything but temporary. I have no notion of embarrassing anyone, and it is no part of my plan to move in.” She was aware of her tone rising and struggled to keep it down.
“My lord Sarclet may rest assured that I will be removing my disturbing presence in short order.”
She was too near to disgracing herself to be able to remain. Without looking to see how her words were received, she pushed back her chair and turned quickly to Mrs Ankerville. “I am very tired, ma’am. I trust you will not object if I excuse myself.”
Her legs were jelly, but Lucy managed to make herself walk to the door. In a moment, she was thankfully out of sight of anyone within the dining parlour, and it did not matter that she stumbled along and had to support herself at one wall, dashing tears away from her eyes with her free hand.
The dining parlour was momentarily silent. Stefan was unable to speak, for fear of the hot words choking in his throat. Enough of a scene had been made already, and anything he said could only make bad worse.
Then Dion jumped up. “I will go after her.”
Stefan got to his feet, reaching out and grabbing her arm. “No, sit down. There has been enough drama for one day, I thank you.”
“But Lucy is distressed. Could you not see how she was desperately trying to keep back her tears?”
Stefan did not let go his sister’s arm. “If I know Lucy, she will infinitely prefer to be left alone.”
At the other end of the table, Corisande was nodding. “Quite right, Stefanus. If one wants to have a really good cry, one must dispense with an audience.”
Stefan ignored this. “Dion, sit down.”
She looked rebellious, glaring at Thomas. “I have a very good mind to walk out of here.”
“You will do no such thing. We are all going to sit down and finish dinner.” Stefan looked for his butler. “Hawkesbury, ask Cook to make up a tray with something light from the next course and have it taken up to Miss Graydene’s room.”
As ever, he could rely on the butler’s imperturbability. “Very good, my lord.”
Stefan looked around the table, noting Sarclet’s high colour. “Now, for God’s sake, let us at least try to be civilised!”
To his intense relief, Corisande rose for once to the occasion. “I am reminded of nothing so much as the old manor houses of the early twelfth century. You could not help but have your personal business overlooked by all your acquaintance. I believe this accounts in large measure for…”