How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) Page 18

  In Diana’s left ear, George Plumtre was reciting some dull, woebegone poetry, reading from the book in which he’d been absorbed earlier that evening. Diana had lost interest several tedious verses ago, unable to concentrate while her gaze traveled across the room and her ears followed, listening for Nathaniel’s voice. But George’s rumbling recital rolled onward with a great deal of emphasis on all the wrong words, jerking her attention back and forth.

  “Mr. Plumtre,” she said when at last he finished, “I do think perhaps you might find something more cheerful to read. Once in a while.”

  He looked at her. “But I am grieving. I mourn the loss of my darling Eleanor.”

  “Of course. Your grief is understandable,” she replied gently, “but you must allow yourself to heal eventually, and wallowing in the constant company of such poetry will not help that process.” Now that she’d begun expressing her opinions out loud, Diana found the process very freeing. And much easier the more she did it. Best not get carried away, she thought. Wouldn’t want to turn into another Mrs. Kenton! “That is merely my supposition, however. If you feel it is helping you, then by all means continue. You would know what is best for yourself.”

  His gloomy face, and particularly his jowls, were on a fast descent toward the carpet. “But why should I wish to heal when I have lost my beloved Eleanor?” He showed her a small oval-framed portrait that fit in the palm of his hand. “It was delivered to me this evening by Captain Sherringham. Now you can see her beauty.”

  “Captain Sherringham delivered it?”

  “Mrs. Ashby was beside herself and could not manage the task. She asked the fellow to undertake it for her, and he did so in such a kind, understanding manner that I think he must know what it is to suffer a broken heart.”

  Nathaniel and his good deeds again. So that was why he had come tonight.

  “I see.” Sensing Nathaniel’s eyes fixed on her from across the room, Diana was suddenly very glad she’d gone to more trouble with her dress that evening. It was vanity, but it couldn’t be helped.

  Her ankle itched where his toe had touched it under the table. She was quite sure he’d left her stocking marked with boot polish, but she didn’t dare look. Clumsy fool.

  “My beloved Eleanor,” George said, snuffling. “How can I live on without her?”

  “Mr. Plumtre, it is clear she was precious to you, and your devotion to her memory does you credit. But life must be lived, sir. And as fully as one is able. Otherwise what is the point of it all? Someone reminded me recently that there is a difference between selflessness and martyrdom.”

  “But how can I enjoy life without Eleanor? How can I think of myself and my future without her?”

  Diana sighed, looking down at her hands. “We cannot sink under the weight of sadness or regret, because that does no good for anybody.” Diana thought of her mother, eaten up with bitterness because of what she didn’t have, never taking time to appreciate what she did have, or that she had been lucky enough to know love and passion at least once. Many people never had that. Or they missed their chance. “We must live life while we have it.”

  “You too have known sorrow of the heart, Miss Makepiece? I see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice.”

  “I have known disappointment and heartache, yes.”

  She wanted to tell Nathaniel she was sorry for her tone of voice all those years ago when she’d rejected his proposal. It was true that she might have let him down with gentler words. Not that her answer could have been anything different. Even if she could have set her other reservations aside—had they thrown caution to the wind and married—they would have struggled financially.

  Who could have helped them? However well-meaning, his father had limited resources back then and had managed his own affairs poorly. Most importantly, an elopement would have meant abandoning her mother, betraying her. For Diana’s entire life it had been only the two of them, and she owed her mother for all those years of struggle.

  As for Nathaniel, the additional burden of a wife and ultimately children would have dragged him down. Once the first glow of passion wore off, and with hard times and poverty breathing down his neck, resentment would have set in. And as her mother said, a man was free to travel, to leave. The woman was always the one left behind to raise the children.

  Yet he had shown himself capable of improvement since then. He had turned his life around and found a measure of success that could not have been predicted three years ago. She could almost imagine he’d done that to show her what she gave up. What she might have had, if only she was braver. If only she had more faith in him.

  “I have learned to go on as best I can,” she added thoughtfully.

  George Plumtre seemed annoyed that anyone might lay claim to as much grief as his own. “Perhaps your heartache was not so great, Miss Makepiece, if you are able to go on.”

  “I do not know the extent of your suffering, but I know my own. The agony of having to give up the chance of happiness while seeing others find love…knowing I might have had the same. Once. But that chance slipped away from me, and I let it go. In that respect, sir, our grief differs, for I can blame no one but myself.”

  Afraid of risking her heart, she had never been a gambler. But tonight she looked at Nathaniel, and her duties as a good daughter—a girl who never did wrong—were set aside as she awoke at last to her desires as a woman. As her own woman, seeing him for the first time.

  Later that night when they returned to the lodge, Elizabeth had little good to say of the evening. “That dreadful Sayles woman! To think that I, a Clarendon, should be forced into such company. We shall become the laughingstock of Bath if it is known that we harbored that woman.”

  “You make Mrs. Sayles sound like a flea-bitten stray,” Diana murmured. “I’m sure she is as worthy of kindness and tolerance as anybody. Should a Clarendon, with her many advantages in life, not look charitably on those less fortunate?” Although she knew her words would fall on deaf ears, she had to speak. Diana was full of nervous energy after the shock of seeing Nathaniel again.

  “Charity indeed!” Elizabeth muttered. “I will not stand the Sayles woman’s common company for another evening like tonight. This takes charity to obscene lengths. I hope we are not dragged into further iniquitous acquaintance. Where will it end?”

  Her husband assured her that Mrs. Sayles would soon leave the area. “She ain’t known for staying long in one place, as far as I hear,” he boomed. “Mayhap she’ll meet another fellow hereabouts and ride off with him.”

  “I hope she does, for she will eat her way through the Wollaford pantry if she stays another month.”

  “’Tis plain she had her hooks out for Sherry, but he assures me he has no interest of that sort in the lady and only brought her to her aunt for a good deed. As I said to him,” Jonty said with a laugh, “no good deed goes unpunished!”

  On her way up to bed, hearing her own thoughts of that relationship confirmed, Diana smiled. Sherry and his valiant deeds! He simply must stop rescuing ladies.

  She forgot what a long day it had been and that she ought to be yearning for her bed. Alone in her room once the maid left, she drank Dr. Penny’s tonic, wrapped her hair in curling papers, and then nestled into her plumped pillow to read another chapter of Anne Elliot’s story.

  “Poor Frederick!” said he at last. “Now he must begin all over again with somebody else. I think we must get him to Bath. Sophy must write, and beg him to come to Bath. Here are pretty girls enough, I am sure… Do not you think, Miss Elliot, we had better try to get him to Bath?”

  Oh yes, Diana thought, her eyelids finally too drowsy to hold open any longer, do get Captain Wentworth to Bath, for Anne’s sake. Bath was a good place, and strange, wonderful things happened there.

  Sixteen

  No, it was not regret which made Anne’s heart beat in spite of herself, and brought the
colour into her cheeks when she thought of Captain Wentworth unshackled and free. She had some feelings which she was ashamed to investigate.

  —Persuasion

  Nathaniel rode out the next day with Jonty. When he called at the lodge, it was early and the ladies were at breakfast. The captain did not come in to greet them, because it was not an hour for visitors. There was a brief ruckus in the hall and then the two men left, taking the dogs with them.

  “I must say,” Elizabeth said, abandoning her kedgeree to look out the casement window and straining to watch the men ride off, “the captain is extremely well favored. It is rare to see the like these days. Perhaps some of his sartorial elegance will rub off on my husband.” She sighed. “One can only hope.”

  Diana thought Sir Jonty cut a rather smart figure, besides which his generous character more than made up for any rough edges, but her cousin was harder to please when it came to appearances and did not care as much about what lay beneath.

  Oh…what lay beneath Nathaniel’s fine clothes…

  Diana didn’t realize how large a bite of toast she’d bitten off until it caught in her throat on the way down.

  While she quietly choked into her napkin, Elizabeth returned to her own breakfast. “It is a great pity he keeps company with that dreadful Sayles creature.” She paused, shrugging her shoulders. “And that is a relationship I cannot comprehend. I thought she was his mistress, but he speaks so boldly before her of seeking a bride. It is all very odd.”

  “I do not believe it is anything more than a friendship,” Diana offered timidly. “As he told Sir Jonty—”

  “You know nothing about men, Cousin, and it is best if you refrain from trying to pretend that you do. Whatever he claims about the acquaintance, I would not trust his word.”

  Utterly set back by this comment, Diana fell silent again.

  “All men suffer a lack of judgment occasionally,” Elizabeth continued through an unladylike full mouth. “Until they settle down in marriage, it is common for such mistakes to be observed and the wrong company to be kept. Besides”—she swallowed hurriedly and took a gulp of coffee before getting up to peer through the window again—“the captain is not only very pleasing on the eye but on his way to becoming extremely wealthy. Jonty says that brewery is worth a pretty penny and expanding all over the countryside with its own tied public houses.”

  That, of course, made up for any lapses in Nathaniel’s behavior and keeping the wrong company, Diana mused. The power of money. It was indeed, as her mother had said, everything in their world.

  “I know what my husband is up to, sly thing,” Elizabeth added. “He wants to get the captain for one of his sisters, to be sure.” She laughed. “All the ale he can drink and a fortune. He cannot pass that up. So he is keen to believe whatever the man tells him about the Sayles woman.”

  Diana said nothing, but her silence did not discourage Elizabeth, who continued in this vein.

  “Susanna will probably win out, being the older, but I thought he was more interested in Daisy at the dining table and she is a cunning creature with few scruples. Susanna will have to look out for herself or her younger sister will steal him away. The sooner he is separated from that Sayles woman, the better. Oh, that hair of hers! I felt for sure it was a wig when first I saw it, but apparently not.”

  Diana refused to disparage that poor woman just to make herself feel better. There was too much of that going on, and that sort of talk was one of Elizabeth’s favorite pastimes.

  Suddenly her cousin added, “If I might say, Diana, you also made rather an exhibit of yourself last night.”

  Diana paused, coffee cup halfway to her lips. “Me?”

  “Trying to monopolize Captain Sherringham’s attention in such an obvious way. I cannot imagine what you were about. He’s not likely to have any interest in you, and you ought to give others a share of the conversation.”

  Diana set her cup down again. “I didn’t think I—”

  “You pushed yourself forward at every opportunity. I did not know where to look.”

  She couldn’t even think of a response to that. Oh dear, had she made a fool of herself?

  “As for the Plumtres, there is no need for you to ingratiate yourself with them, crawling into their good graces. I suppose you thought to make me look bad and a poor sport by going along with everything.”

  “I merely meant to be polite, Elizabeth. They are, after all, my hosts.”

  “And what am I? I sent for you to come here and be company for me, not to gad about like a butterfly.”

  Shocked, Diana assured her cousin that she had not deliberately done or said anything to slight her in the eyes of her in-laws, and Elizabeth’s energies were soon redirected in shouting irritably to the butler for more coffee.

  Their breakfast was interrupted a short while later by the arrival of Sir Jonty’s sisters. Having dashed in like two greyhounds after a rabbit, they were anxious to dash back out again immediately, and much to Elizabeth’s evident dissatisfaction, they had only come to collect Diana and take her out walking with them.

  “What about me? I am to be left alone again?” Elizabeth complained.

  The girls hesitated and Daisy frowned. “We didn’t think you’d want to come.”

  “And we planned to walk a fair distance,” Susanna added earnestly, as if concern for their sister-in-law was their only motive. “The ground is still damp and we are on foot.”

  But Elizabeth would not let them go without her. They were forced to wait while she finished her coffee, found a coat and walking boots, changed that coat for another, went back for gloves, and then stopped to apply lip balm and rose oil.

  * * *

  Chattering without pause, the Plumtre girls walked as quickly as their brother had the evening before, but they took Diana and Elizabeth in another direction, toward the lake. A sister on either side of her, they gripped Diana’s arms and marched her along.

  “It was very good of you to talk to George yesterday, Miss Makepiece. His mood was much lifted.”

  “Really?” Diana was doubtful of that because he had looked just as sad when she left.

  “Oh yes, indeed. He talked of you for the rest of the evening until he finally trundled off to bed.”

  They walked on rapidly, neither girl looking where she stepped and occasionally forcing the group into a puddle. Chattering almost constantly, the sisters paused only to shriek with excessive alarm and excitement whenever a rabbit appeared or a bird took flight from a nearby tree.

  Elizabeth followed a fair distance behind, complaining about the mud and stopping often to catch her breath.

  Daisy whispered, “Why did she have to come?”

  Diana was rather hoping the exertion would wear her cousin out enough to silence her complaints, make her retire earlier tonight, and leave Diana in peace.

  “Look”—Susanna pointed at Jonty and Nathaniel—“there they are. How handsome he is!”

  “His shoulders are wider than Mr. Rowland’s,” said Daisy.

  “Who is Mr. Rowland?”

  “He’s a gentleman who was sweet on Susy last winter, but Lizzie didn’t think him good enough.”

  “He was not sweet on me. What a thing to say!”

  “Indeed he was and you liked him.”

  “Well, I’m sure I did not.”

  “Although he was a dreadful prig, he had very good thighs and reasonably fine buttocks.”

  “Daisy!”

  “What? He did…for riding purposes, I meant! Come on, let’s catch up with them!”

  Diana was dragged along again by the two young ladies, her boots slipping in the mud. She strained to look over her shoulder. “Perhaps we can sit a while on that stone bench and wait for Elizabeth.”

  “Good Lord, no.”

  “But—”

  “She would not want us to
wait.”

  “Oh, I think she would.”

  “No, no. Let her go at her own pace!”

  They whisked Diana along, laughing and shouting for their brother, oblivious to the muddy state of their petticoats.

  Finally hearing this stampede, the two riders stopped and looked back.

  Diana felt her face heat up, fearing Nathaniel would think she’d voluntarily run after him like this, utterly abandoning all dignity.

  “Here we are,” yelled Daisy. “What a coincidence that we should run into you!”

  Sir Jonty chortled. “Coincidence, indeed! You are after the captain, as I warned him.”

  Neither girl seemed the least ashamed to admit it. Ladylike modesty was clearly unknown to them.

  Both men dismounted to greet the ladies and make civil inquiries about their walk.

  “It has certainly put color in Miss Makepiece’s cheeks,” Nathaniel observed with a wry smile.

  Breathing hard, she did her best to smile back. Not too much, you fool. Just a little. You wouldn’t want him to think you’re flirting.

  She must have caught something from the Plumtre sisters, she thought helplessly, because suddenly his height and the breadth of his shoulders were too much for a well-behaved woman.

  “Perhaps you’re tired. I would gladly lend you my horse.”

  At that moment her legs did feel rather soft and likely to buckle, but she was determined to prove herself just as strong as anybody, so she declined the offer.

  “Jonty was showing me the plans for his folly, Miss Makepiece.” Instantly a large scroll of paper was thrust into her hands and the two men began to talk of columns and steps and Italian marble, as if she understood every word. She could go nowhere, of course, while she was holding the plans and they both were looking over her shoulders.