Lady Knightley's Secret. Anne Ashley
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still, to retain that serene look that suggested she hadn’t a care in the world, Elizabeth accompanied her friend up the staircase. She accepted with alacrity the Viscountess’s invitation to come to her suite of rooms later so that they could enjoy a comfortable coze before finally retiring for the night, but the instant she entered the sanctuary of her own bedchamber her expression changed dramatically.
‘Ha! I knew it. In a right fix you are, and no mistake!’
Elizabeth flashed her maid a glance of impatience. ‘I might have guessed that you’d have got wind of his arrival. And don’t stand there gloating! Come help me off with this gown!’
Completely undaunted by the brusque tone, Agatha helped her young mistress get ready for bed. ‘What are you intending to do, miss? You mark my words, he’ll find out.’
Elizabeth pulled a brush through her silky russet-coloured hair with impatient strokes as she stared at her maid through the dressing-table mirror. ‘How can he possibly do that? Only you and I know. And if you ever reveal my secret, Aggie, I’ll never forgive you!’
‘Wild horses could never drag it from me, miss. You know that. But he’s no fool. You might let something slip.’ Her expression betrayed her concern. ‘It might be best if you make some excuse to leave,’ she suggested, but Elizabeth shook her head.
‘I cannot deny that that solution is very tempting, but it won’t answer. It would look most odd if I suddenly upped and left.’ She gazed sightlessly at her own reflection in the mirror, her mind deep in thought. ‘No, that course of action would certainly give rise to conjecture. And besides, I’m quite adept at keeping a guard on my tongue, and concealing my feelings. I’ve had years of practice, after all.’
She saw sadness replace the concern in her maid’s dark eyes and gave her arm an affectionate squeeze before rising from the stool to collect her robe. ‘I must confess, though, that I’m more than a little annoyed with the Viscountess. I think for friendship’s sake she might have taken the trouble to forewarn me that this friend of her husband’s was none other than Richard. But—’ she shrugged ‘—annoyed though I am, I couldn’t with a clear conscience desert her now.’ A worried frown suddenly marred the perfect symmetry of her own brow. ‘Have you by any chance caught sight of her ladyship since we arrived, Aggie?’
‘I have that, miss. Spied her crossing the hall when you all went into the dining-room earlier.’
‘In your expert opinion, when do you consider the baby will be born?’
‘Any day now, I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘Just what I’ve been thinking!’ The frown of disquiet grew more pronounced. ‘The Lord only knows what kind of practitioner has been in attendance upon her ladyship. Some antiquated old fossil who hasn’t picked up a medical volume in years, I shouldn’t wonder. I can perfectly understand why Tom works himself into such a passion over the old-fashioned notions of many of his colleagues. It’s a thousand pities he isn’t here now!’
She moved across to the door, but turned back to enquire, ‘I don’t suppose you happen to know precisely where her ladyship’s bedchamber is situated, by any chance?’
‘Turn left at the end of the passageway and it’s the second door on the right.’
Elizabeth, marvelling at her maid’s quite remarkable ability for acquainting herself with the layout of strange houses within a relatively short space of time, went along to her ladyship’s apartments and discovered the Viscountess sitting up in bed, supported by a mound of frothy lace-edged pillows. She received a warm smile and was invited to sit on the edge of the huge four-poster bed, but she remained standing, her eyes betraying her very understandable resentment at her friend’s rather heartless disregard for her feelings.
Verity was not slow in perceiving the look. ‘What is it, Elizabeth? What’s wrong?’
‘Why didn’t you inform me that you had invited Richard here, too?’
The enquiry was uttered lightly enough, but Verity couldn’t mistake the note of censure in the soft voice and was frankly puzzled by it. ‘I didn’t realise until a few days ago that he would be coming. Brin met up with him in London the other week and invited him to stay. Why, you don’t object to his being here, surely? You seem to get along quite well.’
Elizabeth cast her a look of comical dismay. ‘Sir Richard, my dear Verity, is the gentleman my parents wished me to marry. At least,’ she amended with a rueful smile, ‘my father certainly desired the match. Don’t you recall my telling you that when we met in London last spring?’
In truth, she did not, although she vaguely recalled Elizabeth mentioning that there was someone she had refused to marry because she had been convinced they wouldn’t suit.
‘Oh, I am sorry! Does it make you feel so very uncomfortable…his being here, I mean?’
There could be no mistaking the genuine distress, the undoubted concern her friend was experiencing on her behalf, and Elizabeth found those slight feelings of hurt and annoyance ebbing away.
Accepting the invitation at last, she seated herself on the edge of the bed and gave her friend’s hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘I should be a liar if I said no. But you mustn’t concern yourself on my account.’ A wistful little smile hovered around her very attractive mouth. ‘Richard, I should imagine, was as relieved as I not to be forced into the union.’
Verity subjected her friend to a rather long and thoughtful look, her husband’s bluntly voiced amazement at Elizabeth’s unmarried state echoing in her ears.
Yes, now that she came to consider the matter, it was most odd that Elizabeth had chosen to remain a spinster. The reason might well be what she herself had suspected: that Elizabeth recoiled at the mere thought of contracting a marriage so desperately unhappy as her parents’ union had been. Or the answer might simply be that she had never as yet met a gentleman with whom she wished to spend the rest of her life. A sudden vision of Sir Richard—tall, muscular and perfectly proportioned—appeared before her mind’s eye, drawing a rather puzzled frown to crease her forehead. If, in truth, Elizabeth had never married because she had yet to meet a man to her taste, then she must be very hard to please, for how many gentlemen were there as handsome and personable as Sir Richard?
She found herself unable to quell her rampant curiosity, and after a moment found herself asking outright what her friend had glimpsed in his character to give her a dislike of him.
‘Oh, I don’t dislike him, Verity,’ she responded without the least hesitation. ‘Far from it, in fact. As you might have gathered earlier, I like him very well. I cannot see how any female could take such a well-mannered and intelligent gentleman in dislike.’
Just what I’ve been thinking myself, Verity thought, and said with that bluntness which was so much a part of her charm, ‘Then, why in heaven’s name did you refuse to marry him?’
Elizabeth, far from discomposed, smiled rather serenely. ‘Because, my dear, I couldn’t bear the mortification of going through life knowing that in the eyes of my husband I would always figure as second best.’
Verity’s jaw dropped perceptively. ‘Do you mean that he was in love with someone else at the time?’
‘I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, exactly,’ Elizabeth responded after giving the question due consideration. ‘But you must remember that it was our respective fathers who desired the match. They had been close friends since boyhood, and that friendship continued until Sir Percival Knightley’s death. Richard was, in fact, my father’s godson, and although my father’s sojourns at our home were rare, he did occasionally bring Richard for a visit.’
She paused for a moment to stare blindly at one ornately carved bedpost. ‘From a very early age I knew Richard preferred the company of my sister. Hardly surprising when one considers how very pretty Evadne was in her youth, whereas I…Added to which, they were of a similar age, Evadne being only a year his junior.’
‘Are