Chapter Fourteen
THE HOUSE WAS IN a turmoil the next day.
Gideon left for the estate manager’s office immediately after breakfast and was gone the remainder of the day.
His absence excused Francesca and Irene from their usual dancing lessons, which meant that they were free to turn their attention to the upcoming party.
It was a good thing, Irene decided, for no one else in the house seemed able to do so.
Gideon’s grandmother took to her bed with a fit of the vapors.
Her maid refused to let anyone in, but of course Lady Odelia eventually bullied the poor woman into submission and went in to talk to Pansy.
However, since it was Lady Odelia’s harsh assessment of the way Pansy and her son had dealt with what happened twenty-seven years earlier that had originally sent the delicate woman into hysterics, Lady Odelia’s presence did little to improve the situation.
The younger Lady Radbourne was also suffering from a fit of nerves brought about by the news. She kept bursting into tears and moaning that she should never have married Cecil. Even the redoubtable Lady Odelia was clearly shaken by the situation.
It took all of Lady Claire’s considerable skills at soothing fears and placating ruffled tempers to keep the three of them somewhat calm.
Therefore, all the last-minute details of the large house party fell to Francesca and Irene.
There were vases to fill and place cards to write out in elegant copperplate cursive, plans to be finalized for the ball, questions from harried servants to be answered, menus to be approved and changed, and of course, the swarm of problems that always seemed to arise at the final moment.
It was not until late in the afternoon that Irene managed to pry Francesca away from the housekeeper’s clutches and lead her out for a restorative stroll about the gardens.
“Thank goodness you lured me away from the house,” Francesca said with a sigh, linking her arm through Irene’s and turning her face up, as though to drink in the warm sun.
“Such a to-do. Of course, it couldn’t have come at a worse time, with all the guests arriving tomorrow.
And it is all the worse because I am not familiar with the house and servants.
Horroughs, I think, absolutely delights in coming up with reasons why one thing or another cannot be done. ”
“You handled him far better than I would have, I can assure you,” Irene told her.
Francesca smiled. “I have had practice. Our butler at the Haughston country house was much the same way. I was so very glad that he went with the entailed estate to Lord Haughston’s heir.”
Irene chuckled. “You make it sound as if he was tied to the land.”
“He was the sort who practically was,” Francesca retorted.
“He was always saying, ‘But that is not the way we do things at the Hall, my lady.’ One would think that he had been there since the first Lord Haughston laid the first stone of it.” She rolled her eyes.
“I want to thank you for doing so much to help.”
“I fear copying out names on place cards and arranging flowers is little enough,” Irene replied with a smile. “And I have had plenty of time for it, since Gideon seems to have called quits to his lessons.”
“I am sure he was overset by the news.” Francesca shook her head. “It must have been a dreadful shock to him. Did you talk to him?”
“I talked to him, but it did little good. It was a shock, but he was very stony about it all.”
“After being with Teresa these past two hours, I think stony would be a welcome relief. I never dreamed that she could turn out to be such a watering pot.”
Irene rolled her eyes. “She was not even involved in the matter.”
“Yes, but she is worried that this revelation has thrown her own marriage into question.”
Irene shrugged. “I imagine she is right to be. If the first Lady Radbourne was not kidnapped but ran off with a lover, the possibilities are good that she is still alive. And if she is alive, then Lord Radbourne was not really free to marry Teresa.”
“Exactly. And if so, poor Timothy is illegitimate and would not be Gideon’s heir. It would be quite a comedown for Lady Teresa.”
“Of course,” Irene reasoned, “Lord Cecil did have Gideon’s mother declared dead. He went through the legal process. And she had been gone all those years.”
“Certainly he could have obtained a divorce, I would think, due to her desertion,” Francesca agreed.
“But what Lady Odelia said—which, of course, quite set Teresa off again—is that if Lord Cecil knew that Selene was probably still alive, then he may have committed fraud by petitioning the court to declare her dead. He would have had to swear that he thought her dead, wouldn’t you think? ”
“I suppose.” Irene shook her head. “It certainly is a tangle. I even feel faintly sorry for Lady Teresa.”
“I feel sorry for poor Pansy. Lady Odelia rang such a peal over her head!”
Irene grimaced. “I can understand Lady Odelia’s irritation. Gideon’s father and grandmother seem to me to have handled the whole thing most incompetently.”
Francesca nodded. “Apparently, from what Lady Odelia says, Lord Cecil was the sort of man who always acted first and thought later. And Pansy is the most indecisive and weak-willed of people.”
“Understandable, I suppose, having grown up under Lady Odelia’s thumb,” Irene put in.
“Yes, who can blame the poor woman? All the Lilles I have ever known are strong and commanding. They nearly always get their way, and when they clash, it can be horrid.” Francesca gave an elaborate shudder. “I imagine that poor Lady Pansy got utterly ground into dust by the rest of them.”
They had circled the central portion of the gardens and turned back to the house as they talked. Francesca sighed and looked up at the terrace before them.
“I suppose we should return,” she said without any enthusiasm.
Irene nodded. “Yes. I have several more cards to write out before it is time for supper.”
Francesca looked at her, then said, “What about you, Irene? Are you…all right?”
“Yes, of course.” Irene smiled firmly at her. “The news was startling, but after all, it did not really concern me.”
“It concerns Lord Radbourne, so…”
Irene shrugged. “Yes, but that affects me only in a peripheral way. Actually, his leaving the house today was a blessing. It gave us more time to deal with the other problems.”
Francesca’s brows drew together as she studied Irene, and Irene thought she would have pursued the matter, but at that moment they walked through the back door into the hallway and were stopped by the sound of raised voices.
A man’s low rumble sounded from behind the closed door of the nearby small drawing room, rising to a loud, “Impossible!”
His words were followed by the sound of a woman’s tearful rejoinder, though her more softly spoken words were difficult to understand.
Francesca and Irene glanced at each other uncertainly.
It was an awkward situation, and neither was sure whether it would be better to retreat back onto the terrace and wait for an end to the argument or to slip down the hallway as quietly as possible in the hopes that they could get past before the door was opened.
For a moment they hung there indecisively as the indistinguishable clash of voices went on.
“No!” the man’s voice rang out. There was more rumbling, then, “—don’t believe it!”
Irene glanced at her friend and nodded toward the other end of the hall. Francesca nodded, and they hurried forward as silently as they could. They had almost reached the foyer when the door to the drawing room crashed open.
Irene jumped at the noise, whirling around instinctively. A man strode out of the drawing room, glowering. Irene recognized him as Gideon’s uncle, Jasper.
Behind him, through the open door, a woman’s voice cried, “How do you know? You weren’t even here! You had hared off to join the army.”
Jasper swung back to the room, biting out, “No, I wasn’t here, and I will always regret it! I would have found them and brought them back!”
He turned back to walk away, and for the first time looked up the hall to where Irene and Francesca stood, frozen in embarrassment. He pulled up short.
He let out a soft exclamation under his breath, and for a moment he stood, struggling to gain control of his anger. Finally he let out a sigh and bowed his head toward them. “Ladies. Please forgive me.”
Pansy came to the doorway, wringing a handkerchief between her hands. Her eyes were red from crying, tears streaked her face, and she looked even more fragile than normal, as if a good gust of wind would topple her. “Oh!” she gasped when she saw the other women. “Oh, dear.”
She brought her handkerchief up to dab at her eyes. “Jasper…”
“Yes, Mother. I know. Ladies, I apologize for creating a scene.”
He half turned back toward Pansy, not quite looking at her as he went on. “Mother, I hope you will forgive me. The news was…a shock.” His lips tightened, and then, as though he could not restrain himself, he added, “But you were wrong.”
He looked back to Irene and Francesca, saying, “I never knew a better woman or mother than Cecil’s wife. I am certain she did not run away. And she would never have abandoned her child.”
With those words, he turned and strode past them out the front door.
His mother tottered into the hall, still dabbing at her tears. “Jasper…” When he did not respond, she looked at Francesca and Irene.
“He doesn’t understand,” she told them mournfully. “He just doesn’t realize what a scandal it would have been.”
* * *