Chapter Three #2
“Oh, just the one,” Tabitha said carelessly, “and the outriders only had to face him with their pistols for him to ride on—laughing, the impudent rogue. But then he had just had a spot of luck robbing some other poor devil, even taking his horse. I reported the incident to Sir Hubert at Cogglesworth, though I don’t expect to hear any more of it.
I merely mentioned it to Portia to make sure you don’t decide to economize on outriders when you travel. ”
“Let us sit down,” Portia said. “Dinner is about to be served.”
Since every meal was served with tedious formality, the servants were present throughout and it was impossible to talk of anything more confidential than the weather, Brighton gossip, and the prospects of Lady Hawthorn’s approaching party.
During the last discussion, Tabitha was aware of the earl and countess exchanging glances and knew there would be difficulties extracting Lily.
Difficulties, but no impediments, she promised herself.
At last, after the indifferent and rather meagre meal, the ladies left his lordship to his solitary port, and repaired to the drawing room where at last, as Tabitha’s brother Barty might have put it, the gloves came off.
“I suppose Lily has already told you the news of her stunning betrothal?” Portia said, smiling with proud delight although her eyes remained hard.
“It certainly stunned me,” Tabitha said mildly. “How on earth has this oddity come about?”
“Oh, it was all agreed before your time, Tabitha. And of course, his grace and our Lily are old friends.”
Tabitha smiled. “I hardly think an hour’s unsuccessful visit at the age of six constitutes a friendship. You and Ralph know my views on Lily’s marriage. They have not changed.”
“But he is a duke!”
“And when he dies there will be no dukedom.”
“There will be children,” Portia said. “Besides, I don’t believe his grace is quite at death’s door yet! According to Lord Hazlett, his grace’s guardian, who has been corresponding with Sark, the duke is in considerably better health. In fact, he proposes to call on Lily at our convenience.”
Tabitha closed her mouth on the retort she had been about to make. She glanced at Lily.
“I suppose,” Portia said with heavy sarcasm, “you have no objection to his grace’s calling?”
“None whatsoever. If Lily likes him and wishes to marry him, I shall, of course, reconsider my veto.”
The light of battle in Portia’s face faded into something of an anti-climax. She had expected more of a fight. However, tossing her head with a hint of triumph, she stretched her luck.
“So, you see, you must not take Lily to Lady Hawthorn’s with you. It would be so insulting to his grace to find her gone when he came all that way to see her.”
“On the contrary, Lily must keep her engagements. That is a basic requirement of good manners. The duke may wait here for her return or join us there. She cannot sit at home like some supplicant just in case he chooses to call.”
Colour began to stain Portia’s cheeks. “You misunderstand. His grace is not a sociable man. And only think how awkward it will be for them to meet with so many people observing their every word and action.”
“It has always been quite normal for young people to meet in public,” Tabitha said tartly. “If his grace does not wish it, he may postpone his visit for three weeks, or a month. When does he propose to come?”
Portia almost wriggled. “We are not quite sure. Lord Hazlett was a little vague, but he did say it would be very soon. Sark is convinced he will be here any day.”
“Then be so good as to give me his lordship’s direction—along with his grace’s—and I shall write informing them of our convenience.”
Portia’s face was positively mottled. “That would be unforgivably rude when Sark has already written that we have no engagements and that his grace is welcome at any time!”
“Hardly. On the contrary, it will give you and Ralph time to entertain the man alone and form a true opinion of his suitability. We will, of course, take that into consideration.”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Tabitha!” Portia burst out. “Anyone would think you did not want this honour, this brilliant match for our Lily!”
“I’m not sure that I do,” Tabitha replied. “We can discuss it further when Lily has met him and got to know him a little. There is no rush, Portia, especially not since you tell me his grace has taken his foot out of the grave.”
“There is no need to be vulgar.”
“I beg your pardon for my inappropriate humour.”
Portia met her gaze. “You are in her way, Tabitha,” she said deliberately. “You can be removed, you know.”
“You can try that,” Tabitha said pleasantly, “but be aware the courts move very slowly —and expensively—especially with challenges. And I understand Ralph still has not received his Writ of Summons from the Lord Chancellor. Perhaps there is a challenge there, too.”
She threw the barb out largely to annoy Portia, and from the countess’s angry flush, she had struck closer to home than she had imagined.
Ralph had already adopted the title of earl and no one Tabitha knew had truly doubted the succession.
But if there truly was a doubt, then that would also explain Ralph’s rush to ally with a ducal family who would support his claim.
Not that she could truly imagine such a scenario.
Ralph just wanted all the acceptance he could grasp.
“Do you know,” Tabitha drawled, “I am tired after my journey? I believe I must ask you to bid Ralph good night on our behalf. Thank you for your kind hospitality, Portia.”
Lily jumped up with alacrity, and they were already out of the door before Portia could ring for them to be shown out.
Lily giggled. “As if we do not know the way! You were splendid, Tabbie.”
“It’s not the end of it,” Tabitha warned. “We need to see whatever legal contract there is.”
***
AS SHE HAD HOPED, RALPH produced a document the following morning, having trotted down from the big house apparently with that sole purpose. Tabitha glimpsed him from her morning room window.
Of course, he did not trot once he was indoors. He progressed into the room in a stately manner, ignoring her butler who had barely announced him. Tabitha rose civilly from her desk, where she had been writing letters, and invited him to sit.
Before he did so, he fished out a folded document from inside his coat and presented it to her.
“Portia tells me you are not in favour of this marriage for Lily, though I cannot imagine why you are so against such a brilliant match. Her dowry is not large for her rank, you know, and we never hoped for such a great marriage. But in point of fact, neither you nor I have a say in it. As you will see, it has already been decided.”
She took the document from him with a murmur of thanks and sat down to read it.
“It is merely a copy,” Ralph said grandly. “The original is with my solicitor.”
The “contract” was a mere half page, and it was certainly not composed by anyone in the legal profession.
In fact, Tabitha suspected it had been more in the nature of a drunken act of sworn friendship scrawled out by either Sark or Isbourne in a far less neat manner than the copy.
She imagined the original peppered with ink blots and wine splashes, uneven lines of barely legible script.
But if she could trust the copy, the original had been signed and dated by both parties on the same day in March 1787.
And it did express the intention that the Duke of Isbourne’s first born son and heir should marry a daughter of Lord Sark’s.
“It is not witnessed,” Tabitha observed. “And I very much doubt it can be enforced, particularly against the wishes of the participants, since neither of them are named and indeed had not even been born at the time.”
“Nevertheless,” Ralph said primly, “it is my duty to respect the wishes of my uncle and his friend, the late duke, which are quite clear from this document. And you will find you are wrong about the wishes of the participants.”
“Am I? Young Isbourne is not exactly beating a path to your door, is he? He has not made an offer for Lily. At best, he plans to drop in to look her over at some point when he isn’t too busy and his health is up to it.”
Ralph flushed. “His grace is anxious to do his duty by the dukedom and the wishes of his father. Lord Hazlett assures me of that, and of the fond memories of Lily which the duke retains.”
“Lily doesn’t. She remembers him as a sick and dull milksop, and you know she has a horror of the sick room since her mother died. It won’t work, Ralph.”
Ralph’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t have you standing in her way, Tabitha.”
The threat was not subtle. There was indeed a Lisle bully beneath the excessive dignity. But he would never bully Tabitha.
“As I told Portia, I will receive him if and when he comes. If he offers for her, and if Lily likes him well enough for marriage, and if you and I find him unexceptionable, then I will never stand in her way.”
“But you are removing her just when he is most likely to visit! Leave her behind and go alone to your wretched party. You usually do.”
This was hardly true, and his flushed face told her he knew it.
But she found it more interesting that he did not suggest that Tabitha should stay too.
He did not want her here when the young couple met.
In fact, he probably hoped to have them safely married by special license before Tabitha returned from Hawthorn Court.
“I have promised her she may come. I am not dragging her away from a beloved suitor, Ralph. She wants company of her own age and a little gaiety.”
“You are not a fit person to be in charge of an innocent young girl,” he said furiously.
Tabitha smiled. “But we are all compelled, are we not, by our duty to honour the wishes of my late husband, your dear uncle? And that document is binding.”
***
THE FOLLOWING DAY, as the sun peeped over the horizon, Tabitha and Lily set out for Hawthorn Court.
Behind them, in the old coach, came Allison, Tabitha’s maid, with a mountain of baggage.
As they drove briskly toward the main drive, the big house seemed to stare at them malevolently.
Tabitha thought a curtain twitched at the upper window where the earl’s rooms were located.
She shivered, for she sensed dislike on his part had just turned into enmity.
It was nothing to do with wanting the best for Lily, or even dislike of Tabitha’s defiance.
He only cared for money and his own dignity, so for some reason he must really need this marriage.
Lily’s wealthy suitor must have promised Ralph some outrageously generous settlements, settlements that would benefit him personally.
She looked forward to finally meeting this so-called Duke of Death and discovering exactly why.