Chapter Twelve #2
‘And how did you meet Miss Skeffington? I read of her engagement in the papers and stopped here on my way to Brighton, hoping to learn more.’
Apparently, their plan to leave London without notice had failed to deter the most stubborn of tale chasers.
He segued to the story he’d already created when preparing for this moment.
When he stopped, Lord Skeffington turned to his grandson.
‘It surprises me that you did not remark on the resemblance, Percival. You are friends with the duke, are you not?’
‘We are friends,’ Percy said, his mind working furiously. ‘But having met them both? As the countess said, the differences between them are obvious.’
Everyone looked at Louisa, who managed a wide-eyed nod.
‘I see,’ Lord Skeffington said, as if they’d handed him both ammunition and matches. Then, he turned to the countess with a cold smile. ‘And to think I might never have heard this story, if you had not come to visit.’
‘Did we not tell you about Tom’s family connections?’ Percy said with a laugh that was almost as odd as the countess’s. ‘An oversight, nothing more.’
‘Of course,’ Skeffington said. Then, he offered his arm to the countess. ‘Enough of this claptrap, Your Ladyship. Let me show you the roses. Then we will go in for tea.’
As they walked through the garden, Louisa stared stubbornly ahead of her, the usual frozen smile on her face.
First, she’d had to nod her way through the ludicrous tale that Thomas had spun about illegitimate identical cousins.
And now she was being forced to listen to her grandfather misidentifying flowers and shrubs and bragging to the countess that the space had been designed by John Nash, giving her no credit at all for a decade’s work.
If this day was a somehow part of the plan Thomas had claimed to have yesterday, she was going to tell him the moment they were alone that he must stop helping her, immediately.
If he continued as he was going, the next time they were both in London he would be paying a penny to visit her in Bedlam.
The tour ended with tea in the drawing room, just as Grandfather had promised. No mention was made of the fact that she had arranged it the moment she’d realised they were having a guest. The teacakes were still warm from the oven as they sat down to eat them.
To an observer unfamiliar with the whole of the current situation, the conversation as they ate probably seemed normal.
The countess did not seem to find anything strange, nor did she notice that she and the duke were doing most of the talking. Louisa kept to monosyllables, unable to trust herself with more. Percy ended each comment he made with a nervous laugh.
And, as usual, Grandfather was worst of all. He was dressed all in black and the way he perched on the edge of his chair and picked at a biscuit had her imagining a raven who was waiting for the right moment to peck someone it didn’t like.
Since he didn’t like anyone, they were all at risk.
After nearly an hour of one-sided chatter, the countess set her cup aside. ‘It has been most kind of you to entertain me, but I must be going, now.’ She reached out and touched Thomas’s hand. ‘So nice to have met you, Sir. It is good to know that our dear Louisa has been so well matched.’
Louisa bit her lip to keep from announcing that, since the countess had not bothered to speak to her in the three years since their initial introduction, the endearment was unwelcome and unnecessary.
When she was sure she was properly in control, she rose, smiled and said, ‘Thank you for your well wishes. Let me see you to the door.’
She went outside to make sure that the countess got safely into her carriage and waved after it as it pulled down the drive and out of sight. Then, she returned to the dangerously silent sitting room to rejoin the gentlemen.
‘Sit. Down.’ It was not a sentence. Just two words her grandfather bit off and spat out in her direction, accompanied by a black look and a sneer.
She did as he demanded, sinking back into the bergère she’d occupied while the countess had been there, wishing she could disappear beneath the cushions.
‘So.’ Her grandfather’s head snapped around, pinning Percy in place with a death stare. ‘You have brought someone’s natural child into my house.’ He shuddered with revulsion.
‘Well.’ Percy laughed again, but it was a pathetically small sound in the stillness of the room. ‘A by-blow of a duke’s brother is hardly unwelcome in Society. One might say he has more status than we do.’
‘I do not say that!’
Louisa could not help jumping in her chair. Her nerves were already wound tight as wire. She hated it when her grandfather shouted and it sounded like his tirade was just beginning. She glanced at Thomas, hoping to draw some strength from him.
He had more than enough to share. Other than a steely glint in his eye, he was as calm and competent as ever. ‘I am sure Percy meant no disrespect to either of our families. Perhaps I do not bear the Carew name, but there is no shame in associating with me.’
Her grandfather raised an eyebrow. ‘And yet, you say you are all but banned from London. If you are never in the same place as your cousin, should Louisa be so foolish as to marry you, she might never go to Town again.’
‘I do not like London, Grandfather,’ she said, smiling as if she had not noticed he was in a temper. ‘It does not matter to me if I live in the country.’
‘This does not concern you,’ her grandfather said. He gave her a look that told her if she was not already sorry she’d interrupted, she soon would be.
‘On the contrary, it very much concerns her,’ Thomas said. ‘It is her future we are speaking of. She is of age and has the final word in who she marries and where she lives.’
‘She can marry whoever she likes,’ her grandfather replied with a derisive snort to show what he thought of her judgement so far. ‘But I have the final say in what happens to her money. I have no intention of releasing it, only to see it wasted by a foolish girl.’
‘If it belongs to her,’ Thomas said in the same silky smooth, reasonable voice, ‘she has every right to it. And Louisa is not the least bit foolish. Her level head is one of her most admirable qualities.’
‘All you admire is her fortune, Mr Smith. When you heard there was money coming to her should you marry her, she likely became the most attractive woman in the world.’
Thomas was angry, now. The change was so subtle as to be nearly invisible, but she had been watching him for years and could read his face like a primer.
‘Since I am not blind, as you seem to be, I was aware of her beauty the first time I met her. It is not the money that made me offer for her, Lord Skeffington. I did it because I love her.’
Louisa gripped the arms of the chair, sinking her fingers into the cushions on the arms, afraid that she was going to slide out of it and onto the floor, and melt into a puddle of happiness on the rug.
She had been imagining those words being spoken for over a decade.
But even in her wildest fantasies, they had not sounded as heartfelt and earnest as they did today.
Then she remembered Tom Smith was not much different from the hero of her dreams. The duke was not speaking for himself. This was just another chapter of the story he’d made up to get her inheritance for her. It was her job to play along with him.
Her head cleared, the spinning room stilled and she smiled as she had never smiled before. She exuded the sublime happiness of a woman who knew she was loved and returned that love with the whole of her heart.
Her grandfather looked at her, disgusted. ‘I don’t care what this idiot says, girl. You are just as I’ve always thought, too simple to be allowed out on your own. Wipe that grin from your silly face and go to your room before I summon a keeper to haul you to the madhouse.’
For a moment, she felt her knees tightening, as her body prepared to rise and do as it had been instructed.
Then, she remembered that Thomas was right.
She was not a child to be sent to her room so the adults could talk.
She had the largest share in this conversation. She would not be bullied out of it.
‘No.’
It was a single word, but there was power in it. A strength she’d not felt in years was rushing back into her blood.
Her grandfather’s eyes widened in shock at her defiance. Then, he turned back to Thomas, refusing to credit her with her own rebellion.
‘Bastard!’
The word was less of a shout than an eruption.
Thomas raised an eyebrow. ‘I believe we established that fact, earlier today.’
‘So, we did,’ her grandfather replied with an evil grin. ‘And as such, Mr Smith, you are not worthy of my granddaughter’s hand.’
‘There is nothing unworthy about me,’ Thomas said, refusing to back down. ‘I may be a natural son, but I am rich and well connected. Louisa will want for nothing when she weds me.’
‘Then you do not need her dowry to have her. Take her and go.’ Grandfather pointed to the door. ‘Begone, sir. Out of my house and take that brainless creature and her half-witted brother with you.’
‘See here, Grandfather,’ Percy said, holding out his hands in a calming gesture. ‘We are your only family. Do not rush to cast us off over what is only a minor disagreement.’
‘Minor disagreement? You insolent puppy.’ Her grandfather rose from his chair and shook the stick he continued to carry, though it was clear by his stance that he did not need it for support.
‘If you are unwilling to leave my sight, I will leave yours. I am in my own house. I do not have to listen to your nonsensical friend questioning my authority. Enough of this.’ He slammed the end of the stick hard against the floor.
But when the sound was muffled by the heavy rug, it only made him angrier.
‘Bah!’ He lifted it up again and stalked out of the room.
They sat in silence, listening to him banging through the hall and up the stairs, only speaking after they heard the slamming of his bedroom door.
‘Well, that did not go as well as it could have,’ Percy said with a sigh.
‘He does seem most adamant in his position,’ Louisa murmured.
‘He is a tyrant,’ Thomas stated, staring unsmiling towards the hall.
‘It’s not really that bad,’ Percy said. ‘I mean, no worse than it was before. He has always been a bit of a tartar.’
‘Of course,’ she said, staring up at the ceiling and imagining him raging his way back to his room. She’d seen him this angry before, for even smaller reasons. She’d been alone in the house during those times. Though they’d not been pleasant, she’d survived them all. She’d survive this as well.
As if Percy could read her mind, he said, ‘If he does not come around, and is serious about putting me out, you will come to live with me, just as I promised. I can borrow money against the expectation of my inheritance. It is not very expensive in Bath right now. We might get rooms off the Crescent.’
‘I could not ask you to do that,’ she said, firmly. There was no telling how long Grandfather might live. She would not allow her brother to incur debts at an exorbitant rate of interest that he might never be able to repay.
‘We are not done, here.’
She stared at Thomas for a moment, confused. She had not forgotten he was there. She had simply assumed that they were all in agreement. The situation was obviously hopeless. They had lost.
‘We are here to get you your money,’ he insisted.
‘Grandfather has refused to give it to us,’ she replied. ‘There is nothing more to do.’
‘I gave you my word,’ he said, as if that was sufficient to explain his position.
‘Who am I speaking to?’ she asked. ‘Are you Bonham or Mr Smith right now?’
And who were you before when you said you loved me?
It would be better if she never asked that question. She could go to Bath with Percy. By next year, they would all have forgotten this had ever happened.
‘Bonham or Smith, it does not matter. The answer is the same,’ he said confidently. ‘My word is good. You will have your money.’
She had watched Thomas Carew for years and thought she knew him.
Had he always been mad, or was this insanity a recent thing?
She wanted to shout at him that he must stop interfering in her life, creating chaos.
It was either that or kiss him, as he had kissed her, and tell him that he was a dear, sweet man and she loved him for trying.
It still would not work, of course. She knew her grandfather. He was immovable.
She rose and walked to him, laying her hand on his, where it rested on the arm of his chair.
‘I release you from your promise. You have done all you can. I am very grateful for the attempt. But some things are simply not possible. Not even for you.’ She gave him the sort of gracious nod she’d seen ladies use in London when they needed to withdraw from a difficult situation.
‘I am going to my room to rest before dinner. The menu tonight is chestnut soup, a turbot fillet and loin of veal. Do not be late.’ She left them and took the back stairs to her room.