The Virtuous Cyprian Page 13

  Lucille sighed again. ‘Well, my love, you have been most resourceful in finding me, and I suppose you will have to stay at least until you are fit to travel!’ She saw Hetty’s blue eyes peeking at her hopefully above the handkerchief. ‘I have written to your mother already to let her know that you are safe. There is, however, one other thing that you should know.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘This is in fact Susanna’s house, not mine.’

  Hetty, for all her youthful innocence, was not slow to grasp the significance of this. Although Mrs Markham disapproved of Susanna to the point of never mentioning her name, it had not been possible to keep the truth of Susanna’s occupation from Hetty, particularly when it was deplored so loudly and avidly by all and sundry. She quite forgot her tears, her eyes growing huge as saucers.

  ‘But I thought this was your house! Oh glory, Mama will be furious! You did not tell her in your letter?’

  ‘I left that bit out,’ Lucille said austerely, and frowned as Hetty stifled a giggle.

  ‘Hetty, it’s more serious than just your mama’s disapproval! The very fact of your coming to Susanna’s house—well, it’s bound to reflect on your own reputation in a most unfortunate way. It is not your fault, for you did not know, but you know how unpleasant people can be—’

  Lucille broke off, for Hetty had paled visibly as she realised what Lucille meant. ‘Mr Seagrave!’ she whispered through white lips. ‘He seemed shocked when I asked for Cookes and now I see why! Oh, what must he think of me!’ Her huge blue eyes filled with tears and overflowed. ‘Oh, I cannot bear it! He must think me a loose woman!’

  Lucille thought that this was most unlikely. She moved swiftly to Hetty’s side and took both her hands. ‘I can assure you that he thinks no such thing!’ she said briskly. ‘He and I spoke last night, and he is perfectly aware that you are a young lady of impeccable reputation! He is as concerned as I to prevent any scandal touching your name, and has pledged himself to help us! Now, dry your eyes, my love! It will not do for you to look woebegone when he arrives!’

  Hetty brightened immediately, with the adaptability of the young. ‘Oh, Lucy! Do you think he really does like me?’

  ‘I’m sure he does! Now, I shall get Mrs Appleton to bring you in some tea and pastries whilst I arrange to send the letter to your mama.’

  Lucille went out feeling exhausted. She supposed that it was not so strange for Hetty to fall head over heels in love with Peter Seagrave on the strength of one meeting. He was, after all, a personable man and he had come to her rescue like a knight from the romances. When contrasted with the odious Mr Gillies, his charm would have bowled her over.

  Lucille sighed. She had little doubt that Henrietta was right in thinking that her aunt planned to marry her off, although whether she would have forced the match was another matter. With two daughters of her own approaching marriageable age, Dorinda Pledgeley would have wanted to get so pretty a rival off her hands as soon as possible. Mrs Pledgeley was an overbearing woman, Lucille reflected, and had made the Markhams feel like poor relations ever since she had provided them with a home after the death of the Reverend Gilbert Markham. Just for a moment, Lucille permitted herself to imagine the flutter in the Pledgeley dovecote were Hetty to catch herself an Earl’s younger brother. Then she told herself severely not to count her—or in this case Hetty’s—chickens before they were hatched.

  The thought of an Earl brought her thoughts inevitably on to Seagrave. Hetty’s artless confidences had wrecked all possible chance of her explaining the situation to him before he heard of it from anyone else. Lucille shivered as she remembered the look in his eyes as he had left her. The tension of waiting until the following day to see him was almost intolerable. Oh lord, how had she ever got herself into this knot? With hindsight she could see that Seagrave was the last possible person to try to hoodwink. She knew she was a fool to have got herself so entangled. Worse, she knew she would not emerge unscathed.

  Peter Seagrave called that afternoon, bringing a huge bunch of flowers for Hetty which made her eyes open to their fullest extent. Lucille, reflecting that the house would soon look like a horticultural show, took them away to put in water whilst Peter took Hetty off for a sedate tour of the garden. Mrs Appleton, looking more indulgent than Lucille had ever seen her, strolled along with them as Hetty’s chaperon.

  Lucille stood in the scullery, half-heartedly trying to arrange the flowers in one of George Kellaway’s more outlandish china vases, and watching as Peter settled both Hetty and Mrs Appleton on the seat beneath the apple tree and proceeded to charm them both. Lucille knew that she was in danger of envying Hetty Markham. Hetty had fallen madly in love in the most unexpected way and it seemed her feelings were returned.

  Lucille pushed one unfortunate rosebud forcibly into the vase and stabbed herself painfully on the thorns. Her own situation, she reflected miserably, could hardly have been more different. She too, had fallen hopelessly in love, for in her own way she was as inexperienced in the ways of the world as Hetty. Her nine years’ seniority counted for nothing. She had gone from the confines of Miss Pym’s school and met the Earl of Seagrave, who had somehow been the personification of all her ideals. And now she had been exposed to him as a liar and a cheat. He had never had any respect for her when he thought she was Susanna, but this was worse, for now he knew her true identity and could have nothing but contempt for her.

  Chapter Six

  Lucille slept surprisingly well that night. She had been convinced that the combination of dread and a guilty conscience would keep her awake, but in the event she was too tired to be troubled by either. She awoke to a bright, sunny day, and decided to take a walk before the house was astir. No doubt the fresh air would make her feel more cheerful. She slipped through the garden and orchard, where the dew was fresh on the grass, and took a path that set off across the fields.

  The sky was already bright blue, and the air had that fresh, keen edge that came straight from the sea. Skylarks were already singing high above. Lucille’s spirits began to lift. She came to a stile and crossed another field. A hay wain rumbled down the gentle hill towards the village, but nothing else moved in the still landscape. Reaching the next lane, Lucille rested on a gate and considered the view.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Kellaway. A beautiful day, is it not?’

  How quietly he moved! Lucille had already recognised those distinctive tones when she turned her head to confront the Earl of Seagrave, who was clearly on a morning constitutional about his estate. It was now too late to deplore the fact that Susanna had no clothes remotely suited for a walk in the country, and that she had chosen to wear her own drab brown jacket and skirt, and sturdy boots. Very likely it would make no difference to Seagrave’s opinion of her anyway, but he had obviously noticed, for he was looking at her with unconcealed interest.

  ‘I had no idea your wardrobe contained anything so unflattering,’ he observed with amusement.

  Lucille, her heart beating suddenly in her throat as a result of his unexpected appearance, could think of no suitable rejoinder. Surely now that he knew she was not Susanna he would not expect her to be forever appearing in her borrowed plumes?

  ‘It seemed sensible for a walk across fields,’ she said after a moment, noting that his riding boots were liberally spattered with mud and that he was wearing what were obviously old trousers and a casual jacket. The neckerchief carelessly knotted at his throat completed an ensemble which had an informal elegance that did nothing to detract from his air of authority.

  ‘Indeed it is,’ Seagrave said, with a glimmer of an approving smile. ‘But what a surprise to find you out walking at this hour, Miss Kellaway! Evidently a dislike of early hours is not something which you have in common with your sister! Unless, of course,’ he gave her a speculative look, ‘it is simply a bad conscience which has kept you awake!’

  There it was, out in the open between them! Seeing Lucille blush, Seagrave continued kindly, ‘Shall we continue walking whilst you tell me about it?
I often find that it is easier to talk on delicate matters if one has some other occupation on which to concentrate as well!’

  He fell into step beside her, shortening his stride to match her steps. ‘My route back to the Court takes me past Clockhouse Woods—will you accompany me? Let me help you over this stile.’

  Lucille knew she really had no choice. She put her hand reluctantly into his as she stepped up on to the stile. His touch was quite impersonal but Lucille felt a deep shiver go through her which she tried to pretend was the effect of the summer breeze. As though she did not have enough to contend with, without the added distraction of this disturbing physical attraction!

  The path climbed slightly up a small hill, and Lucille preserved her breath to cope with the incline. She knew it was only a small stay of execution. At the top she paused for a rest and considered the view across to the River Deben and the silver sea beyond.

  ‘This is one of the highest points in the county,’ Seagrave commented, as Lucille gradually turned to look across the patchwork fields inland, momentarily diverted from the matter at hand. ‘I had forgotten, in fact, what a beautiful county Suffolk is. It is a landscape made for artists, I think. Do you draw, Miss Kellaway?’

  ‘Indifferently, my lord.’

  ‘Ah, a pity. But perhaps you will try your skill? Such a view can only encourage you.’

  Lucille had to agree. ‘I can understand why John Constable finds it so inspirational,’ she said, spontaneously. ‘The light and the colour…the limitless space—why the sky seems to go on forever…’ She turned a glowing face to Seagrave and almost immediately recollected the barrier between them. She fell silent and the silence seemed to last several hours.

  At last he said, a little drily, ‘It does not surprise me that you evidently know Constable’s work well, Miss Kellaway. You must come to Dillingham Court some time and see the work I have commissioned from him, if that would please you.’

  ‘I…yes, that would be delightful.’ All animation had gone out of Lucille’s manner.

  ‘My lord, I must tell you…explain…’

  Seagrave drove his hands into his jacket pockets. ‘Indeed you must, Miss Kellaway. Why not start with the most important point, which is why it was necessary for you to impersonate your sister in the first place? For it was an impersonation, was it not? You had plenty of opportunities to tell me the truth, yet you deliberately chose not to avail yourself of them!’

  His tone was quite gentle but with an underlying thread of steel which made refusal quite impossible. Lucille was aware of nothing except her misery. She had always prided herself on her integrity and could not bear him to think her deceitful. The regard she had for him just made matters worse. Plain, prim Miss Kellaway, playing a role in a masquerade and meeting her handsome Earl…

  She shrugged away the fanciful idea. Practical Miss Kellaway did not believe in fairy stories. Soon, after all, she would have to return to her dull existence—very soon, now that the truth had come out. There could be no point in remaining in Dillingham and carrying on the charade. While she hesitated, he spoke again.

  ‘Of course, I may be doing your sister an injustice, for I assumed her to be involved in this deception! But perhaps you claimed Cookes in her name and she is unaware of the impersonation?’

  That got through to Lucille, as it had been intended to do. Her chin jerked up and she eyed him furiously.

  ‘There is no need to represent matters in a worse light than they are, sir!’ she said, hotly. ‘Susanna claimed Cookes, as was her right by inheritance. But she found she had to go away for a short time and was anxious that her absence should not give your lawyers a lever to break the lease. And judging by your words to me when first we met, my lord, her fears were justified!’

  Seagrave inclined his head with a slight smile. ‘Touché, Miss Kellaway! That at least explains her motive in asking you to impersonate her. But what of your own motives?’ He stopped walking and turned towards her. ‘What did she offer you to make it worth your while, Miss Kellaway? You told me that you could not be bought, but it seems that is not true! So what is your price?’

  Lucille bit her lip. Her throat was as dry and stiff as paper, and tears of strain and unhappiness were not far away. Suddenly all she wanted to do was go home and indulge in a hearty cry. The one man in all her twenty-seven years with whom she had fallen disastrously in love regarded her as nothing more than a mercenary adventuress!

  ‘My price, as you put it, my lord, was the peace I believed I could find at Cookes, more fool I!’ she said bitterly, pushing back the tendrils of silver hair which the breeze was tugging free from her bonnet. She faced him out stormily. ‘I would not expect your lordship to understand—or pity—the restrictions of a proscribed existence, day in, day out, with no thought of change! When Susanna came to me I agreed to her proposal in a moment of weakness, wanting nothing but to escape! I never thought that I would have to meet anyone, or sustain the masquerade! Well, I am well served for my folly now, am I not!’ She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I had better go, I think. Your lordship must be wanting me from Cookes immediately!’

  She turned aside, but Seagrave put a hand on her arm, restraining her. ‘A moment, Miss Kellaway.’ His face wore its customary inscrutable expression and there was no way of telling what he had thought of her words. He ran his hand through his dishevelled dark hair. ‘There is no immediate necessity for you to leave Cookes.’

  Lucille could not meet his eyes. ‘Indeed, I think I must, sir.’

  ‘And I say you shall not.’ There was steel in his tone now. ‘Be so good as to walk with me a little further, Miss Kellaway. There is something which you should know, I think.’

  Lucille fell into step beside him, wondering what else he could possibly have to say to her. Seagrave did not look at her as they continued the downward path, which was now skirting the wall of the field and the woods beyond.

  ‘This morning,’ he said conversationally, ‘I received word that a lady reliably identified as Miss Susanna Kellaway was in Paris and would shortly be leaving for Vienna in the company of Sir Edwin Bolt.’ He swung round to look at Lucille. ‘I do not believe your sister will be returning to Cookes for a while, Miss Kellaway.’

  Lucille’s heart sank at the news but a moment’s reflection told her that it made no difference. She would have to leave Cookes, and if that meant that Susanna lost the lease then so be it. At least her hopes of Sir Edwin had not as yet been dashed if Seagrave’s intelligence of them was correct.

  They had reached the point where the path to Dillingham Court struck off at right angles beneath the spreading canopy of oak trees. Lucille paused in the shadows.

  ‘I cannot allow that to weigh with me, I think, sir,’ she said carefully. ‘I promised Susanna that I would stay at Cookes until she returned, but now my circumstances have changed, have they not? Nothing remains but for me to apologise to you for the pretence, and take myself back to Oakham.’

  Seagrave was watching her with a slightly mocking smile. ‘You are very certain that I will let you go, Miss Kellaway! What if I should choose to press charges to punish you for your duplicity? Obtaining property by deception…false representation…I am sure that I could make the crime fit the charge!’

  Lucille felt the earth rock beneath her feet. She had not even thought of that. ‘Surely you would not—’ she gasped.

  ‘Wouldn’t I?’ Seagrave looked thoughtful. ‘I have a great dislike of being duped, Miss Kellaway! Am I to let you get away so easily?’ He leant against the trunk of one vast oak and viewed her with amusement. ‘You look horrified, Miss Kellaway! Did you never think of this when you and your sister hatched your plot? Were you so sure of remaining undetected?’ He straightened up and Lucille took an instinctive step backwards and he followed. She could sense some force at work in him which she did not understand. It was comparatively dark beneath the trees and his face was in shadow.

  ‘Just how far would you have gone to emulate your sist
er, I wonder?’ Seagrave said slowly. ‘I remember you now, of course, Miss Kellaway. We met in the inn at Felixstowe. No wonder you were so discomposed to overhear that I was intending to travel to Dillingham! And now that I know you are from Oakham I remember that I once caught sight of you during a brief stop there.’ His inexorable gaze lingered on the strands of silver hair escaping from her bonnet, the sudden wild rose colour which had flooded her face. ‘It was a revelatory moment, one might say,’ he observed, in a caressing tone that made Lucille shiver, ‘and I imagine you remember it too, do you not, Miss Kellaway? How charming you looked at that window—’ His hand came up to touch her cheek with feather-light fingers and she felt herself tremble. She knew he could feel it too.

  ‘How charming and how virginal,’ Seagrave repeated, with sudden predatory intensity. ‘As you do now. But is it possible for a woman who can play the Cyprian to be virtuous herself? I doubt it!’

  Lucille tried to speak, but found she could not. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘I do not—’ She broke off, realising how husky her voice was. His proximity was having a disastrous effect on her, turning her knees to water and her mind to a morass of fevered thought, none of it intelligible. ‘I do not understand you, sir,’ she managed, and saw his eyes narrow with a mixture of exasperation and a less easily defined emotion. She took another step back, only to find that her back was against another of the broad oaks. Seagrave followed her without apparent hurry, placing one hand on each side of her head against the trunk of the tree so that she could not escape.

  ‘I think you do, Lucille,’ he said harshly. ‘How far were you prepared to go to further your charade? Would you have eventually accepted my offer of carte blanche? Do I really have to take you here and now, against this tree, to discover the truth? Because, believe me, I will do so if I must!’ He held her wide, horrified eyes with his very deliberately as he straightened and stepped even closer to her. Lucille instinctively closed her eyes and a moment later she felt his mouth on hers.