Lord Iverbrook's Heir (21 page)

They were not mistaken.

The crowd fell silent at their approach. “Why, Sir Aubrey, what a pleasure to see you here!” said Lord Iverbrook.

The baronet was not his usual striking self. His yellow hair hung in lank locks, dripping rainwater into the river below. The sleeves of his cerise coat were torn and begrimed. Beyond that they could not see, for only his head and arms protruded from the wall. He groaned and grimaced.

“Very bad
ton!”
said Mr. Hastings disapprovingly. “Not at all the thing to make yourself a bobbing-block for the local citizens.”

“Get me out of here!” Sir Aubrey croaked in desperation.

“Usn tried to reach him wi’ the boathook,” reported one of the men in the dory. “But he can’t hardly move his arms and we was afeard to snag his coat case of hurting him.”

“How long has he been here?” asked the viscount, trying with poor success to hide his grin. Apparently none of these bumpkins had thought to attempt a rescue from the gentleman’s nether end.

“Dunno,” answered one of the boys. “Usn come down at dawn to fish off'n the island and there he were, like a cork in a bottle.”

“Stuck tighter’n a penny in a miser’s pocket,” confirmed one of his mates.

“Hafta take the wall down,” opined another, a witticism greeted with general laughter.

“Have none of you business elsewhere?” asked Lord Iverbrook. “I intend to go round into the abbey to see what can be done there to release this unfortunate. Should it prove necessary to eject him in this direction, will you remain here to haul him out?”

“Aye, sir,” said the man, “us’ll stay, for ‘tis too late in the day to do any other sort o’ fishing.”

Jem turned their commandeered skiff and headed back to the jetty below the bridge.

"‘Tis my belief, my lord,” he said, “as ‘twill be a sight easier to push the Bart out nor it will to pull him in.”

His lordship laughed. “Do you know, Jem, I’m inclined to agree with you!”

Tom had taken the carriage to the Crown and Thistle and he met them on the bridge. The four men sauntered into the abbey grounds, in no hurry to put an end to the baronet’s captivity. They found the door of his cell without difficulty.

A long beam from the ruined roof, not thick but less decayed than most, was wedged across the corridor, from a point about a third of the way up the door to the angle of floor and wall on the opposite side.

“Very clever, m’lord,” said Tom admiringly. “Could almost have happened by accident, like. If ‘twas leaning ‘gainst the wall here, wouldn’t have took but a shove and a moment to put in its place.”

“‘Tain’t too heavy, neither,” Jem pointed out, freeing it with a jerk and laying it aside.

“But immovable from inside,” said Iverbrook. “An effective piece of work indeed.”

Tom swung the door open.

“Hinges oiled,” he said, peering at them. “After you, m’lord.”

The cell, its window blocked, was murky and it took the viscount’s eyes several moments to adjust. He shivered in the damp, cold air and tried to imagine Selena trapped in here alone with her cousin, shouting for help as the light faded. No wonder the river had seemed an acceptable alternative! Sir Aubrey’s plight no longer seemed a joke but an inadequate retribution.

He regained his sense of humour with his sight. The baronet dangled from the waist, most of his upper body stuck within the width of the wall. His nether garments had split open in his struggles. Less farsighted than Selena, he had kept on his boots as well as his coat, and their toes hung scant inches from the stone-paved floor.

Iverbrook waved Tom and Jem forward.

“Give it a try,” he said, “but don’t pull too hard or you might hurt him. Lady Whitton urged me not to inflict any damage.”

A glance of complicity passed between the erstwhile rivals. They advanced on Sir Aubrey, grasped the heels of his boots, and with the utmost delicacy pulled them off.

“Tut!” said Mr. Hastings. “You ought always to wear gloves when removing a gentleman’s boots.”

“I fear that did not work,” Iverbrook grinned. “I had best warn the Bart that he is going for a swim.” He moved closer to the window and called, “Sir Aubrey! Our attempt to pull you back has failed. Hold your breath!”

Without further ado, the servants lifted his legs till his body was parallel to the floor and pushed with all their strength. Sir Aubrey, screeching, disappeared.

The splash was followed by a clamour of voices offering conflicting advice. Lord Iverbrook did not look out, but listened in silence for a few moments with the look on his face of a man who has just won a fortune at cards. Then he sighed and put his hand in his pocket.

“Thank you!” he said, handing Tom and Jem a guinea each. “A magnificent job! I suppose Lady Whitton expects us to take him back to the Manor with us. I only wish I had brought Selena after all!”

* * * *

On her mother’s orders, Selena breakfasted in bed. She ate heartily, having missed her dinner last night in all the excitement. Several muffins with marmalade, four thick rashers of bacon, and a whole pot of tea disappeared before she pushed the tray aside and rang the bell. She lay back, luxuriating in the warmth and comfort, and hoping Hugh would be back soon.

Polly came in, red-eyed, her usually merry face sombre. She removed the tray from the bed, set it by the door, and laid out Selena’s best lilac silk morning gown.

“Shall I help you dress, miss?”

“No, thank you, Polly. I am sure you must be busy and I can manage. You do not look well. Is something amiss?”

“Oh, no, miss. Only . . . the other servants was saying as Sir Aubrey’s a wicked man. Is he, miss?”

“Not half so wicked as he is foolish.”

“Where is he, miss? He never come home last night.”

“His lordship went to fetch him. No doubt they will return at any moment. I must get up.”

“Yes, miss. I’m ever so glad you’re going to marry his lordship.”

“Thank you, Polly. So am I! Put out my walking shoes, if you please, and then you may go."

Selena dressed with a song in her heart. She spent more time than usual arranging her curly locks, then went up to the nursery.

“Did Uncle Hugh comed back, Aunt Sena?” asked Peter, looking up from the primer he was reading to Nurse. “I want to ride Leo today.”

“Now you finish your lesson afore you start thinking on that pony, Master Peter,” advised Mrs. Finnegan. “He knows his letters fine, Miss Selena, but he don’t have much patience with the words. Oh dear, it’s happy I am to hear you’ll soon be a married lady!”

Selena hugged the old woman, then noticed Peter looking at her in alarm. “That is what I have come to tell Peter about,” she said. "If you don’t mind, Finny, I think we had best talk alone.”

Mrs. Finnegan picked up some knitting and retired to the next room. Selena sat down in a chair by the fire and pulled up a footstool beside her. Peter did not join her.

“You mustn’t not marry Uncle Aubrey!” he said with anxious determination.

Selena smiled at him reassuringly. “I’m not going to, love. Should you mind if I married Uncle Hugh?”

Peter squeaked, jumped down from his seat at the table, and ran to throw himself into her arms.

“Really truly?” he asked. “Are you going to?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the bestest thing in the whole world! Aunts and uncles is s’posed to be married to each other. Timmy Russell says so.” He was silent for a moment, hugging her, then said shyly, “Will I still belong to you?”

“Of course, darling. And to Uncle Hugh too.”

“Will Uncle Hugh live here for ever and ever?”

“I don’t know yet. He might want us to go and live with him in London, or at Iver. Should you mind that very much?”

His lips trembled. “What about Grandmama, and Auntie Dee?”

“They would come and visit us ever so often, and we would come and visit them here, too.”

“That’s not the same.”

“No,” she said gently, “it wouldn’t be. I hope Uncle Hugh will choose to live here, for most of the year at least, but it is his decision.”

“Aks him. Tell him it’s
home.”

“I will, Peterkin, only remember that it is not
his
home.”

“It is now," said Peter.

Going in search of her mother, Selena ran into her sister on the stairs. “You do look smart this morning,” approved Delia. “Very different from last night.” She giggled.

“I suppose you will never let me forget that fur rug,” said Selena resignedly. “Not that I am in the least likely to forget it anyway.”

“I am so glad you are going to marry Hugh. Shall I be allowed to call him Hugh when he is
my
brother-in-law, not just Phoebe’s? I have not known how to address him this age.”

“‘Your lordship’ will be proper for a schoolroom miss of your tender years."

“I hope you are roasting me! Selena, shall you bring me out in the spring? It would be famous, so much better than going to Aunt Ringold as you and Phoebe did.”

“So that is why you are glad I am to marry Hugh! I daresay we shall be in London for the Season, since he will be busy in the House of Lords. I shall see if I can persuade him to put up with my little sister for a few months, if Mama will entrust you to my care."

“Thank you! Do you mean to abandon the farm then? And go to live in Hugh’s houses? I’m sure I cannot run it for you.”

“I don’t know, Dee. I haven’t had time to work things out yet with Hugh. You are dressed for riding. Are you going out? I thought it was raining.”

“Only a mizzle. Clive came to ask after you and I am going back with him, to see Jane and tell her all about it.”

“Not all, I beg of you!”

“Jane won't tell, I promise.”

“Not the world, but probably her mother. Lady Anne stands in no need of further ammunition against me.”

“But it is such a romantic tale! Oh, very well, I will be discreet. I know you have no taste for romance.

“You’d be surprised!” said Selena with a smile. She waved goodbye to her sister and went to the stillroom. Lady Whitton was busy with her aromatic potions.

“Just a moment, dear,” she said. “I am preparing an infusion of catnip for poor Aubrey, to prevent a cold. You had best take some as well.”

“Thank you, Mama, but I do not feel in the least old cattish this morning! Cousin Aubrey may have it all.”

“I have made an elderleaf salve for bruises, but I do hope Hugh has not felt it necessary to chastise him.”

“I am not so generous. I hope he has been exceedingly uncomfortable, and if Hugh wants to give him a leveller, he may do so with my full approval!”

“A leveller, dearest?”

“One of Peter’s words, learned from Jem. Meaning, I collect, to knock someone down. It is just as well we shall soon have a gentleman in the family to teach him to speak like a gentleman. Mama, I am so happy!”

Lady Whitton hugged her daughter.

“I’m sure Hugh will make a delightful husband, my love, but we shall miss you,” she said.

“I hope Hugh will want to live here at the Manor.”

“Do you think he might? Delia and I could rent a small house nearby so that we would see you often.”

“Nonsense, Mama! If we should stay here, the farthest you will remove is from your chamber to mine, and you shall take your dragon curtains with you.”

“It never answers, Selena, having two mistresses in one household.”

“Is not that how we have been living these four years? I do not recall that we have quarrelled yet!”

“Ah, but Hugh will not wish to live with his mama-in-law. He is a dear boy and I expect he would agree, but it will not do.”

“I own I should not wish to live at Iver with the dowager viscountess. However, you and she are like cheese and chalk, and if Hugh should object, I’ll not marry him, I vow!”

“Do not say such a thing, dearest! Of course you will marry him, and live happily where and with whom he chooses.”

“I am not so conformable. I have no ambition to rule the roost but I do not mean to let him dictate to me. He will be wanting to run my farm, next!”

Selena retired to the library in a decidedly ruffled state of mind. Marriage to the viscount suddenly looked less like the blissful future she had envisioned, more like a source of endless complications and strife.

The way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled; his gentle teasing and quick understanding of her own; his forgiveness of her temper, his admiration for her competence, his nascent idealism and determination to better the lot of his fellow man; were these enough to set in the balance against the disruption of her life, the loss of autonomy, perhaps the loss of all she had worked for for so many years?

She sat at her desk, gazing blankly down the long room, trying to work out what she wanted most.

Her mother and sister liked him. Peter adored him. That must weigh with her. Peter’s future weighed heavily on Hugh’s side. So did the memory of his arms around her, of the shivering thrill that swept through her at his touch, his mouth on hers . . .

The door opened and he came in. She looked at him, startled, unable to connect the reality with the dream.

“Come here,” he said.

Like a sleepwalker she went to him and was enfolded in his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” he muttered into her curls.

“Oh Hugh, twelve hours!”

“Thirteen hours and twenty-three minutes. I was afraid you might change your mind.”

She had to prove to him that, rather to her own surprise, she had not, so it was some time before she was able to ask the question that had seemed all important.

“Hugh, where shall we live?”

“Here, I hope, at Milford Manor. It will be best for Peter, will it not? You do not want to set up in state at Iver Place, do you?” he asked apprehensively.

“Good heavens, no! I should not dare to try to displace your mama,
or
the pigs.”

“Good.”

“I shall be the Viscountess Iverbrook! Shall I have to be very . . . stately and proper and aristocratic?”

“Sometimes, perhaps. I am head of a large family of distant relatives, most of whom I have not seen for years, and once I have taken my seat in the House I suppose there will be occasions of state. I am as little practised as you! I know you will be equal to it, for when you are dressed up in all your finery, you have the bearing of a queen.”