скачать книгу бесплатно
Edward read it. ‘Lady Penkridge…? What does she want?’
‘I don’t know, sir. She has two young people with her.’
Edward frowned. ‘I’d better see her, I suppose. Where are they?’
‘In the library, sir.’ Harbin went to the library door, opened it and announced Edward. Then he withdrew.
‘Edward!’ He was attacked by a small whirlwind. ‘We’ve been waiting ages for you! Where’ve you been?’
Edward laughed, took the little girl into his arms and swung her round. ‘I wasn’t expecting you so soon, Pip! You should have warned me.’ He put the child down and surveyed the room. Raising his eyebrow, he smiled at the other young person he saw, and went over to give her a hug. ‘Lisette, I’ll swear you’re prettier than ever.’ Then he turned and looked at the other occupants of the library. One was dressed in black, and stood ramrod straight. She had what looked like a permanent expression of disapproval on her face, with pursed lips and a nose like a hatchet. She was soberly dressed in rusty black, and what looked like the quills of a porcupine sticking out of an ugly bonnet. Not Lady Penkridge. He turned with relief to the other female, who was obviously waiting to speak to him. ‘Lady Penkridge? I don’t believe we’ve met?’
‘No, indeed, Mr Barraclough. But I am very well acquainted with your brother and his wife.’
‘Henry?’
‘Yes. And dearest Julia. I have been a friend of hers for many years.’
‘Indeed? Then I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Penkridge. But…but I don’t quite understand. Are my brother and his wife not here?’
‘Julia is still in Antigua. And so is your brother.’
Edward looked at her in astonishment. Clearly enjoying the drama of the moment, Lady Penkridge nodded solemnly and added, ‘They were unable to travel, Mr Barraclough. Julia broke her leg the day before we were all due to sail and Mr Henry Barraclough has stayed behind to look after her.’
‘But…’ Shocked, Edward demanded details of the accident. Lady Penkridge told him the tale, with frequent interruptions from his younger niece, who seemed to find the gory details of the accident more interesting than sad. But the conclusion was the same. It would be some time before Julia Barraclough could walk, and even longer before she could attempt the voyage to England.
At the end, somewhat bewildered, Edward said, ‘But I still don’t understand! Why, in that case, are my nieces here in London?’
‘Edward! Don’t say you don’t want us here! We thought you’d be glad to see us!’ This came from the small girl who had greeted him so rapturously a moment before.
Smiling reassuringly at her, Edward said, ‘I am, midget, I am! I’m just a little puzzled, that’s all. What are you going to do in England without your aunt?’
‘It’s all settled! We’re to have Miss Froom as a governess. And you are to come with us to Wychford to look after us all.’
Edward’s smile abruptly disappeared. ‘What?’
Lady Penkridge frowned at Pip. ‘Philippa, I wish you would remember not to speak until you are spoken to! You must allow me to give your uncle the facts.’
‘That would be helpful,’ said Edward grimly. ‘At the moment I don’t believe what I’ve just heard!’
‘First, may I present Miss Froom to you, Mr Barraclough?’
Edward loved his nieces, and the last thing he wanted was to upset them. But he had no intention of giving up his plans for the autumn in order to look after them, especially not in such an out of the way place as Wychford! So as he nodded to the dragon-like figure standing next to Lady Penkridge he said, ‘Perhaps Miss Froom would take the girls into the saloon while you explain, ma’am? I’m sure Harbin could bring them some refreshments.’
Pip would have protested, but a look from her uncle silenced her, and she and Lisette followed Miss Froom meekly enough out of the room.
Edward waited until they had gone, then said, ‘There’s obviously some misunderstanding. I can’t have heard properly. Would you oblige me by sitting down and telling me everything, Lady Penkridge? Slowly.’
His visitor settled herself, then began, ‘You can imagine, Mr Barraclough, the confusion caused by Julia’s accident—so unexpected and so immediately before the packet boat left Antigua. The Barracloughs were deeply worried. It was really impossible to change all their plans completely. So, since I was coming back to England on the same packet, I volunteered to bring the girls with me. It was a great relief to them, as you can imagine. Julia cannot possibly look after her nieces until she can walk. So, it was agreed that I should bring the girls and hand them over to you to look after until their aunt is able to travel.’
Edward considered this for a moment. Then he said carefully, ‘You mean that I am to be responsible for my nieces? I alone? Without any help from my brother or his wife?’
‘You will have Miss Froom.’
‘Miss Froom!’ There was a short silence during which Edward struggled to find some way of expressing his feelings which would be acceptable to the ears of a gently bred female. He failed.
Lady Penkridge went on in an encouraging tone, ‘Julia is in good health. It shouldn’t take long for her leg to heal. Perhaps only six or seven weeks.’
‘Six or seven weeks! Only six or seven!’ Edward’s feelings got the better of him. ‘This is a bachelor’s establishment, Lady Penkridge. How the devil do you suppose I can keep Lisette and Pip here for six days, let alone six or seven weeks? I refuse! I damned well refuse!’
Lady Penkridge replied coldly, ‘Your sister-in-law had the gravest doubts about your willingness to help her, Mr Barraclough, though she did not allow this to deter her. But I confess that your lack of sympathy surprises me. It is of course out of the question that Lisette and Philippa should remain here. I have taken a suite of rooms at the Poultney on Julia’s behalf, and your nieces will stay there in Miss Froom’s charge until you can arrange to transfer them to the house in the country where they were due to stay. The place is called Wychford, I believe.’
‘Yes, yes, I know it. We had settled on a six months’ tenure there some time ago. But it is in the heart of the countryside, over twenty miles out of London. I have other engagements, invitations I have accepted, commitments that would make it impossible for me to spend the autumn at Wychford. You must make other arrangements, Lady Penkridge.’
‘I, sir? I’m afraid you are under a misapprehension. I brought the girls to England as a favour to your sister-in-law. But I now have to think of my own concerns. You will have to cancel these commitments of yours. I leave London in two days’ time for the north.’
Edward gazed at her blankly. ‘You can’t!’ he said.
‘I can and will. I agreed to bring the girls to England, but my task ends there. As Julia said to me, they will now be entirely your responsibility.’
‘My responsibility! Oh, yes, I can imagine Julia said that! This is all her confounded doing!’
‘Mr Barraclough! Are you completely devoid of feeling? Your sister-in-law is at this moment lying on a bed of pain—’
‘That is nothing compared with what she has done to me! And what was Henry doing all this time? Why hasn’t he come up with a better solution? Dammit, he’s the girls’ guardian!’
‘Your brother was naturally more concerned about his wife. And, as I understand it, you are also your nieces’ guardian.’
‘However, there is a substantial difference between us—Henry is married, and I am a bachelor!’
‘That is why Miss Froom is here, Mr Barraclough. By a fortunate coincidence Julia had written to her some time ago to engage her services—’
‘Fortunate! There is nothing fortunate about any part of this catastrophe!’ muttered Edward.
Lady Penkridge ignored him. She went on, ‘And I fetched her yesterday to join us. I am sure you may safely leave the girls in her hands. She comes with the highest possible recommendations. All that will be required of you is to take charge of the household at Wychford.’
‘But I live in London, dammit!’ Edward almost shouted the words. ‘And I already have plans for the autumn! Why the devil did Henry agree to this cork-brained idea? Just wait till he gets here. If he wasn’t my own brother, I swear I’d call him out!’
Lady Penkridge rose. ‘I am sorry that your reception of my news has been so unfavourable, Mr Barraclough,’ she said frigidly. ‘Particularly as you express yourself in such immoderate terms. But there is nothing I can do about it. I leave London in two days. You have that time to make your arrangements. And now, if you don’t mind, I shall collect the girls and return to the Poultney Hotel. Good afternoon.’
She gathered up her things and waited stiffly for him to send for Harbin to show her out. With a considerable effort Edward pulled himself together. It would do the girls no good at all if he antagonised this woman. Lisette was to come out in the spring, and for all he knew Lady Penkridge might have considerable influence among the London ton. He took a breath and gave her a charming smile.
‘You are right, ma’am. It was quite wrong of me. It’s just that…’ He took another breath. ‘It’s just that I was a little upset at the notion that I would have to abandon all my friends, break the promises I have made, leave London and bury myself in the country for eight or nine weeks at least, with only my two nieces and their governess for company. And all within forty-eight hours. Absurd as it might seem to you, I was just a little shocked.’
He drew another breath and forced himself to smile again. ‘But you have been very kind. I am sure Julia would wish me to show you our gratitude. May I call on you at the Poultney this evening? I should like to offer you and my nieces dinner there, if I may.’
Edward’s charm was potent when he chose to exercise it, and Lady Penkridge was no more immune than many another lady in the past. Her manner was perceptibly warmer as she said, ‘Thank you. Yes, the…the girls would enjoy that. And so should I. At what time?’
That evening Edward exerted himself to erase the unfavourable impression he had made on Lady Penkridge with such success that she began to wonder whether Julia had after all been mistaken in him. They parted on the best of terms, and after an exhausting two days of rearrangements, meetings, notes of apology and excuses, Edward saw Lady Penkridge safely launched on her journey north, then set out for Wychford accompanied by his nieces and Miss Froom.
As they left London behind them, he saw that something of his own gloom seemed to have affected the rest of the party. Lisette was gazing sadly out of the window, Miss Froom was sitting with a gimlet eye on Pip, and Pip herself was quite remarkably subdued. Edward roused himself. It was not his nieces’ fault that he had been forced into exile. The poor girls had had a terrible time in the last year, first with the upheaval caused by the accident and the loss of their parents, and then the business with Lisette and Arandez. And now this…
‘I dare say you would like to hear a little about Wychford,’ he began.
‘Has Aunt Julia bought it?’ asked Pip.
‘Don’t be silly, Philippa,’ said Miss Froom. ‘Your aunt will have leased it through an agent. It would be unnecessary to buy it when you are to stay there for such a short time.’
Edward regarded Miss Froom. This wasn’t the first time she had put the child down, quite unnecessarily. He would have to keep an eye on her. Pip’s lively interest in everything she came across was one of her main attractions, and he didn’t want it suppressed. He smiled warmly at his little niece as he said, ‘I’m afraid you’re both wrong. There’s more to it than that.’
Pip’s face brightened. ‘A story, a story! Tell us, Edward!’
‘Well, when we first heard about Wychford it belonged to Thomas Carstairs. Thomas owned some plantations in the West Indies, and he and his wife became friends with your grandfather. Some years later—just about the time you were born, Pip—Mrs Carstairs came out to see us again after her husband had died. She promised your father then that we could all stay with her at Wychford when you and Lisette were old enough to come to England.’
‘Like a good fairy at a christening!’
Edward smiled. ‘Something like. Though she looked rather more like a witch than a good fairy.’
‘Will she be there now?’
‘No. She died not long ago—’
‘And left the house to us!’
‘Not quite.’
‘Philippa, how many times do I have to tell you not to interrupt? And get back down on to the seat, if you please!’
Edward felt a spurt of irritation. Pip was standing on the seat, leaning half against him and half against the cushions at the side of the carriage. It wasn’t safe, and Miss Froom had been perfectly right to object, but he had been pleased to see Pip once again her lively self. He ignored the governess and went on, ‘That would have been quite wrong. Mrs Carstairs had no children, but she had other family. She left the house to her niece.’
‘A niece? Like us?’
‘Mrs Carstairs was about eighty, so a niece would be much older, wouldn’t you say? Probably even older than I am!’
‘Have you met her?’
‘No, I’ve only dealt with her agent, a Mr Walters. But you must let me finish my story. I visited Mrs Carstairs several times at Wychford, and when I was last there, and told her you were all coming to England this year, she remembered her promise to your father.’
‘But she’s dead!’
‘That’s true, but she stipulated in her will that Wychford was to be available to the Barracloughs for six months after your arrival.’
‘That’s a very strange condition, Edward,’ said Lisette.
‘Mrs Carstairs was a very strange lady. But I liked her.’ He fell silent, remembering the last time he had seen the old woman.
She had been wrapped in shawls and huddled in her chair, obviously ill. But her gipsy-black eyes had been fiercely alive. She had looked at him hard, and then she appeared to make up her mind. She said, ‘You’ll do! The house likes you and so will she.’
Puzzled, he had asked, ‘Who is “she”, ma’am?’
Whereupon she had given one of her cackles and said, ‘Never you mind! But she will. Eventually! Make sure you come back here! But there! I know you will.’
Edward had been tempted to dismiss her words as the wanderings of an old lady whose life was almost spent. But they had stuck in his mind, and now here he was, about to return to Wychford, just as she had said…
Chapter Two
Some thirty miles away, Mrs Carstairs and her house were also the subject of discussion between Rupert, fourth Earl of Warnham, and his daughter, the Lady Octavia Petrie. The day was cool, and Lord Warnham, who was in his seventies and felt the cold, pulled his shawl closer round his shoulders and gave his daughter a worried frown. In his gentle way he said, ‘I wish your Aunt Carstairs had not left you Wychford, Octavia. It was most inconsiderate of her. I knew it would be a burden!’
‘But, Papa, I assure you, I don’t find it any sort of burden.’
‘How can that be? You tell me that you must go to see it next week. All that way through the countryside to see a house that can be of no conceivable use to you! Of course it is a burden. She should not have done it. If she had consulted me in the matter I would have advised against it. She cannot have thought of the worry it would be to you to possess a house like that.’
‘Papa, it is no worry at all! I am very happy to be the owner of Wychford.’
‘But you cannot possibly keep it. You have no notion of what it means to look after a large house!’
‘I look after this one, Papa.’
‘That is quite a different matter, my dear. This is your home, and you have me to protect you.’
Octavia Petrie permitted herself a wry grin. It might be her home, but it was her father who needed protection. Even the most trivial of problems worried him. Much as she loved her elderly parent, she found shielding him from unnecessary distress far more demanding than looking after a house, however large it might be. She set about reassuring him.
‘Wychford won’t cause me any trouble, Papa! You know it won’t. The Barracloughs are to rent it for six months, as Aunt Carstairs wished. The agreement is signed and sealed, and so far I have had nothing at all to do. Mr Walters has dealt with it all.’
‘Walters is a good fellow. An excellent man of business! But he has done no more than he should. It would not be at all the thing for a lady to be concerned in property agreements and such matters. But I still cannot like it. Your Aunt Carstairs should have left her house to someone else. You would do much better to stay at home with me next Tuesday and let Walters get rid of it for you.’
Octavia smiled. Her father must be unique among parents. No other man would find it distressing that the youngest of his eight children, twenty-two and still single, had been left a large estate, including a house, by her godmother. But Lord Warnham’s intense dislike of any threat to his unvarying routine quite blinded him to the advantages of such a handsome inheritance. Octavia hardened her heart and said firmly,
‘I am not so very young, Papa. I shall be three and twenty next spring. And I really shan’t find it a burden to make a simple visit to Wychford. I merely wish to see the house before the Barracloughs arrive. It will take less than a day.’
‘A day! You must not be so foolhardy! It is all of ten miles.’
‘Fifteen. But it is still quite light in the evenings and the roads are good—’
‘You would subject yourself to travelling thirty miles in one day! I will not hear of it! Even with a closed carriage—’
‘Oh, I would take the gig. I’d like to drive myself. Will Gifford would accompany me, of course.’
This suggestion so outraged the Earl that it took several minutes of Octavia’s most skilful coaxing before he could be brought to resign himself to her absence. Eventually he said wistfully, ‘I suppose you will have to go, but I shall miss you.’
‘I hardly think so, Papa. Have you forgotten that Cousin Marjorie arrives tomorrow? You like her, don’t you?’
‘She is a very pleasant person, certainly, and plays whist and cribbage better than you do. You know you can be a little impatient, my dear. Yes, I like Marjorie.’ He sighed and added, ‘I can see you are quite set on this escapade, Octavia, so I shall say no more on the subject. But I do wish that Mrs Carstairs had not left you her house. I cannot understand why she did!’
‘Nor can I, Papa. Though…she did say when she was last here that Wychford would like me.’
The shawl dropped off her father’s shoulders as he sat up and stared. ‘Wychford would like you? A house liking someone? What a very strange thing to say! But then, I was often puzzled by the things she said. She did not resemble your dear mama at all.’
‘No, indeed! Harry and I were afraid of her when we were children. We used to call her the Witch of Wychford. But I got to know her better when she was here last spring, not long before she died. She…she seemed to understand…’
