Anne Herries - An Improper Companion

‘Yes, of course.’ Elizabeth gave him a smile that lit up her eyes. In repose her features were not remarkable, some might even say plain—but when she smiled her inner loveliness came through. ‘I am glad we have spoken of this, sir, for my brother has been trying to arrange a meeting with Mr Elworthy. It was in my mind to write to him to tell him that nothing could be gained from such a meeting—and now I shall add that I think he ought not to approach Sir Montague either.’

‘It would not be wise for him to do so, for without proof he can do nothing.’

On that they ended their conversation, for they had arrived at the drawing room in almost the same instant as Lady Isadora.

‘Ah, there you are, Elizabeth,’ she said, smiling at them both with an innocence that made her son at least suspect her of mischief. ‘I thought you must have come down earlier, for I went to your room.’

‘I am sorry—did you need me?’

‘Not at all, my dear. I wondered if you had found everything to your liking.’

‘How could I not?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘Everything is of the finest and I am very comfortable. I have also to thank you for the gowns you provided, though I do not think I shall wear bright colours just yet.’

‘Shall you not?’ Lady Isadora asked with a vague smile. ‘Well, they were just a small gift to thank you for being so kind as to come to me—but your allowance shall be paid monthly and you may choose whatever you wish when we go down to Brighton next month.’

‘Oh, no…I mean, you have already been so generous.’

‘I like pretty things, and I like to see those about me happy,’ Lady Isadora said. She looked at her son. ‘Have you been keeping Elizabeth company, dearest?’

‘We happened to meet in the library,’ Daniel told her. ‘Miss Travers shares a love of books, Mama. She has very kindly offered to begin the task of sorting them into some order when she has the time.’

‘I do hope you did not press her into it?’ Lady Isadora frowned at him.

‘Oh, indeed not,’ Elizabeth said instantly. ‘You must know that I like to be busy, ma’am. I am sure that I shall enjoying cataloguing and sorting the books, and there are many that I think we shall enjoy reading together.’

‘Well, as long as you are happy,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘Shall we go in, my dears? I am perfectly certain dinner is ready…’

Elizabeth could not remember an evening she had enjoyed more for some months. After an excellent meal they had repaired to the drawing room, the earl refusing to drink his port in lonely isolation, and swearing that he would prefer to take tea with them. However, she noticed that he had been served with brandy in the drawing room.

Lady Isadora had declared that she was not in the mood for cards and begged Elizabeth to play for them on the pianoforte. She was happy to oblige and played two classical pieces before going on to a play and sing one of the popular ditties of the day. It was then that the earl came to stand beside her, looking through the music at her disposal before choosing something.

‘We might sing this together if it pleases you,’ he suggested. It was a duet for male and female, and told the story of lovers.

‘I do not know this piece well,’ Elizabeth said, ‘but I am willing to try if you will forgive my mistakes.’

‘We shall not scold her if she plays a wrong note, shall we, Mama?’

‘Do not tease Elizabeth,’ his mother told him, looking on complacently. The evening could not have gone better in her opinion.

The earl had a fine tenor voice and they blended well together. Elizabeth managed to find her way through the piece without too many mistakes and left the pianoforte at last just as the tea tray was brought in. The earl then excused himself, saying that he had work to do, and soon after the ladies made their way to bed. It was not until Elizabeth was undressing that she realised she had forgotten to bring herself a book to read.

She hesitated, but decided it would not do to go wandering about her employer’s house half-dressed at night. She would instead write a letter to her brother.

Sitting down at the desk provided for her use, she spent half an hour composing her letter. She told Simon about her meeting with Mr Elworthy, and went on to say that she had heard it on good authority that he was a perfect gentleman, suggesting that nothing could come of insisting on a meeting. She also hinted that she thought Sir Montague dangerous and advised her brother to stay well clear of him.

It had taken her a while to find the right words, for she knew her brother’s fiery temper; it would not do to advise Simon too strongly or he would likely do just the opposite in a fit of rebellion. Laying down her pen, she sanded her letter and sealed it, then stood up to glance out of the window. As she did so, she saw a horseman riding away from the house. The night was quite dark and it was difficult to see, though she thought it was the earl himself.

Where could he be going at this hour? It was surely too late to ride out for pleasure and much too late to go visiting—unless, of course, he was visiting his mistress. Elizabeth squashed the suspicion—it was none of her business, and she ought not to be curious about things that did not concern her.

Retiring to bed, she slipped beneath the covers and closed her eyes, but her mind was busy and she did not sleep immediately. She was sure that she would enjoy her work for Lady Isadora, because she was willing to be pleased, and Elizabeth would find her duties light enough. However, she was not sure that she approved of the earl, though she could not put her finger on why she should have doubts concerning him. He was obviously generous to his mother, and though perhaps a little lazy—or indolent, as he called himself—seemed good-humoured. Why then did she suspect there was much more to Lord Cavendish than he cared for anyone to know?

‘Does he suspect anything?’ Daniel asked of his friend as they met that night at the Cock and Hare Inn, some three miles distant from Cavendish. ‘He did not think it strange that you consented to dine with him, and to drink yourself almost insensible?’

‘I was careful to keep my wits about me,’ John Elworthy said, smiling oddly. ‘And when he suggested a hand of cards to while away the time, I pretended to fall asleep, and sat snoring by the fire until he went up.’

‘Did you learn anything that might help us?’

‘Sir Montague is very close-mouthed,’ Elworthy told him with a frown. ‘But he did say something—just after Miss Travers left the room. He seemed surprised at the way she behaved for he did not know her, and when I told him who she was he looked strange.’

‘You said she left abruptly when he entered?’

‘Yes. We had been speaking of her father—she does not believe that Sir Edwin would willingly have gambled away his estate.’

‘She has told me as much,’ Daniel said. ‘We know that Forsythe and his cronies prey upon the young idiots who venture to town with a pocketful of gold and hardly any sense in their heads. Although we may disapprove, we do not have the right to interfere other than to issue a warning if we get the chance. However, there is this other business…’

‘Do you truly believe that Forsythe is involved in that?’ John looked at him incredulously. ‘The abduction of young girls for sale into houses of prostitution—it is a wicked thing, Daniel. I can hardly believe that a gentleman would do such a thing.’

‘It would never have crossed my mind if we had not happened to be there that night—when Lady Elworthy’s youngest sister was almost abducted…’ Daniel looked angry. ‘I dread to think what might have happened to Maria, John. And you know that she firmly believes Sir Montague had something to do with it.’