David Liss - The Twelfth Enchantment

There was a moment of silence in which Uncle Lowell might have said that he must not rush, that he must remain a guest for as long as he might wish, but this offer never came. Instead it was Mrs. Quince who spoke. “But you must tell us, my lord,” she said, in a rather disastrous attempt at a sweet voice, “what you wished with our Lucy, and what care you about Mr. Olson.”

Lord Byron appeared truly puzzled. “I can see that any gentleman must wish for a connection with this charming young lady, but, to my knowledge, I have never seen her before I came to this house. As to this Mr. Olson, I do not know the name.”

“You have no connection with Miss Derrick?” Mrs. Quince demanded.

“Regrettably, I have not that honor.” Lord Byron studied his hosts carefully, and then allowed his eyes to settle once more upon Lucy’s. “I am fatigued and not myself. I must remove to Newstead for fresh clothes and a bath, but before I go I should like to discover what it is precisely that I have done here.”

Mrs. Quince arranged for a coach to take Lord Byron to his estate, and while they awaited its arrival, she remained in the sitting room as Lucy provided the baron with a somewhat abbreviated account of his appearance at Uncle Lowell’s house. She found herself looking out the window as she spoke, or at her fingers, or at Mrs. Quince because it was difficult to look at Lord Byron. He was not merely handsome, he was unnaturally handsome, and being near him made her forget how to act like herself. While she tried to remember where to put her eyes and her hands, and how to hold her body, Lucy recounted how he had arrived, begged Lucy by name not to marry, and spoke some other strange and inexplicable things. She thought it inappropriate to mention the vomiting of pins or removal of curses. Lord Byron appeared suitably mortified by even this redacted narrative, and his discomfort demonstrated that he was indeed mortified to hear of his conduct.

When she dared to look at him, Lucy saw Lord Byron cast disapproving glances in Mrs. Quince’s direction, as though he wished the chaperone would leave. Perhaps she merely flattered herself. On the other hand, Lord Byron’s reputation in the neighborhood was as something of a profligate, though details were vague, and virtually all handsome young noblemen enjoyed such reputations.

“My lord,” Lucy said, once she had gathered her nerve, “you told me to gather leaves. What does it mean?”

He shook his head. “It appears I spoke a great deal of nonsense.”

Lucy did not think it was nonsense The words kept returning to her, and she felt absolutely sure that she would, at some point, understand exactly what they meant. She could not say if she thought that good or bad.

At last, his hired coach appeared outside, and Lord Byron rose to excuse himself. “Miss Derrick,” he said, “would you do me the honor of walking me to my conveyance? I would have a private word with you.”

Lucy blushed, and she silently rebuked herself for doing so. This astonishingly beautiful peer was not going to say anything of consequence to her. She could not hope for it. And yet, he desired something, and she could not think what.

“There is nothing you may say to the young lady that you may not say before me,” announced Mrs. Quince.

“You may keep watch upon us to make sure I remain a gentleman,” said Lord Byron, “but I would say something that is for Miss Derrick’s ears alone.”

“And what might that be?” asked Mrs. Quince.

“Surely you see the paradox of the question,” he said with a smile so condescending that Lucy had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

As they descended the stairs, and Mrs. Quince glared at them through the window, Lord Byron leaned toward Lucy’s ear. His breath was hot and distracting, and Lucy felt her heart quickening and her stomach muscles tighten. “Tell her I asked you for a kiss, and you refused,” he said. “She will believe it and trouble you no more.”

Lucy’s face was burning from even the mention of the word kiss . A feeling of pleasurable warmth began in her middle and spread outward, threatening to overwhelm her. “What can you have to say,” she managed, “that such a proposition is the disguise?”

“I have something for you, Miss Derrick. I found it upon my person when I awoke this morning. I cannot say how it came to me, but then much of my recent past is a mystery to me. As for this document, I know not your circumstances or what precisely this means, but I collect you are not happy with your uncle and his woman looking over you. Please, you need not respond. I merely wish you to understand why I thought it prudent to give you this in private. If I am mistaken, then by all means show this to your uncle at once. If I am correct, then I have done no harm and possibly some good.”

“What can you mean?” The words caught in her throat.

“Come around the far side of the coach. I will have to hand this to you quickly, when the woman’s view is blocked. You must then come back around where she can see you, so she does not become suspicious.”

Lucy felt her heart racing. She was now involved in an intrigue, one that clearly had nothing to do with a peer choosing to make love to her. She followed Lord Byron to the far side of his coach, and he placed into her hand a thick collection of pages, folded three times. Instinctively, she stuffed them into the bodice of her gown, blushing all the while.

Lord Byron led her back to the other side of the coach. “Please, my lord. What have you given me?”

“Francis Derrick was your father?” he said in a quiet voice.

She felt herself grow faint and gripped his arm, though let go again at once as though shocked. She felt embarrassed at having grabbed him, and yet delighted, and wondered how she might find an excuse to grab his arm again. “Yes.” It was hardly a whisper.

“You will forgive me, but when he died, what did he leave you?”

“Very little,” managed Lucy. “He died with many debts, and what he had, he gave to my sister and her family.”

Lord Byron nodded. “This morning, I found upon me the last will and testament of a Mr. Francis Derrick, and with that, some records of his finances. I did not read it overly closely, as it did not concern me, but the substance of these documents is that, beyond a few items left to this person or that, his sole beneficiaries for his personal effects and a sum of money he estimates as near ten thousand pounds, are his unmarried daughters, Lucy and Martha Derrick. I am sorry to tell you that it appears you have been the victim of a scheme to defraud you of your inheritance.”

WITH LORD BYRON GONE, LUCY RETIRED TO HER ROOM TO REFLECT in silence on all that had happened. What an astonishing and terrible two days it had been. She had met Miss Crawford, who, though a stranger, and one she would likely never see again, enchanted Lucy with the illusion of friendship. She had perhaps—or perhaps not—used actual magic to aid a handsome man in need, and that man had turned out to be a peer, one who gave every sign of flirting with her. This was an exciting development, particularly since it was entirely possible she had ended her engagement with Mr. Olson. And now this peer had handed her what appeared to be her father’s will, which told a very different story from what the solicitors had presented.

Along with the will, dated only four months prior to her father’s death, Lucy found a reckoning of her father’s assets, which were far greater than the meager holdings and expansive debts of which the solicitor has spoken. According to the documents she held in her hands, Mr. Derrick had been possessed of investments that slightly exceeded ten thousand pounds. There was a matter of jewels that had belonged to Lucy’s mother, as well as some plate and paintings and a few diamonds. There were other objects of value as well, including furnishings, rugs, and the contents of his considerable library. The will specified that, at the time of its composition, Mr. Derrick was free of significant debts, and he expected only trivial claims against the estate.