An IMPROPERCOMPANION
ANNE HERRIES

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Afterword

Prologue

‘Charles!’ The Earl of Cavendish stared at his friend in disbelief. He scarcely credited what he was being told. It was too shocking. ‘You cannot truly believe that Sarah has been abducted?’

Charles Hunter raised his tortured gaze to meet Daniel’s eyes. ‘We found her shawl lying on the ground at the edge of the park, and it looked as if there might have been a scuffle—there were foot marks as well as those of carriage wheels.’

‘But who—why?’ Daniel looked at his friend in a puzzled manner. They had known each other all their lives and Sarah Hunter was almost like another sister to him. He was fond of her—had danced with her in the parlour of her home only a few days previously, helping to prepare her for her debut into society that summer. ‘Surely…’

His voice fell away into shocked silence as he saw the look of agony in Charles’s face. ‘I don’t know, Daniel, I don’t know,’ Charles said, his voice breaking with emotion. ‘Sarah is so young. She doesn’t have a beau as far as I know. Besides, I should not have denied them the right to see each other if they had come to me. She must have known that—surely she knew? No, I do not believe she has run away from her family. I believe she has been stolen.’

Daniel was almost too stunned to answer. He was a man of the world and knew well that there were men evil enough to snatch young, pretty girls for their own foul uses. To think of Sarah, whom he thought little more than a child, in the power of such rogues was past bearing. It was no wonder that Charles looked so desperate and he could only imagine the agony that Sarah’s mother must be enduring.

‘You must not give up all hope,’ he said, his hand on Charles’s shoulder, his fingers gripping hard as the emotion turned in him. ‘We shall find Sarah. I swear it, Charles. We shall not rest until she is found.’

‘And what then?’ Charles asked. ‘What if she…?’ He shook his head, unable to continue.

‘We shall face that when we come to it,’ Daniel said. ‘Have faith, Charles. It may be that we shall find her safe…’

It was a nightmare! Surely she was having a bad dream? What was happening to her could not be real. Her sight was blurred as she stared up at the creatures cavorting about her. She was lying on the ground on some kind of silken robe, but where was she? She seemed to be in a wood and it was dark save for the light of a full moon.

A figure was coming towards her. It loomed over her, looking huge to eyes clouded by the foul drugs they had given her and…it was a man and surely he was naked? What was happening? She must be dreaming! Yes, yes, it was simply a bad dream. She was in her own bed and quite safe. And yet through the fog that misted her senses, she dimly recalled being captured. She knew that she had been abducted, which meant that she was not dreaming and that she must wrench her mind from the cloud that bound it.

Giving a scream of terror, she forced herself to stand, her legs trembling with the effort. She had to get away from here or she was done for, she knew it instinctively although her mind was unable to function properly. She did not know how she had come here or who these people were. She only knew that she must run as fast as she could to escape them.

If they caught her, she would die…

Chapter One

Daniel Cavendish surveyed the room, his eyes dark and brooding as he watched the dancers enjoying themselves. Something was missing from his life and he did not know what it was—though he suspected that he still hankered after the adventure and danger of his army days. He had been forced to sell out when his father died, returning to take charge of the Cavendish estate. The past three years had been spent to good effect and his fortunes were now prospering—and yet he was restless. Sarah Hunter had been much on his mind of late, his failure to find her in all these months nagging at his conscience like a rat gnawing at the wainscot of a neglected manor house. Yet in the last few days information had come to them that had given him renewed hope.

‘I think I shall go down to the country,’ he said to the gentleman standing beside him. Where the Earl was tall, broad shouldered and dark haired, his friend was of a more slender build with soft fair hair that he now and then brushed back from his forehead. ‘London has lost its attraction for me of late—and I want to see what I can discover of that other business.’

‘Do you think that wise?’ John Elworthy asked. ‘Even if what we suspect is true, I do not see that there is much we can do about it. No lasting harm was caused to Maria, and as for Miss Hunter…’ He shook his head sadly as another of their friends came up to them. ‘Good evening, Robert. I did not think to see you here this evening.’

‘I had nothing better to do,’ Lord Young said and yawned behind his hand. Of the three he was the one most entitled to be classed as a dandy, his cravat so intricate and high that he could bend his head only with difficulty. ‘It’s dashed dull at the moment, don’t you think?’

‘Cavendish was saying as much,’ John Elworthy told him. ‘He has a mind to investigate that business with Maria…though, for myself, I think it may be dangerous to meddle in Forsythe’s affairs.’ Maria was the sister of his brother’s wife, a young, pretty girl with a great deal of courage, who had recently beaten an attempt to abduct her.

‘Nothing like a little danger to spice things up,’ Lord Young said, a sparkle in his eyes. ‘If you need any help, I’m your man, Cavendish. I dare say Hilary would say as much if he were here. What do you plan to do?’

‘Walk home with me, both of you,’ the earl said. ‘I do not wish to be overheard. I agree that this business is likely to involve some danger, but I think it must be attempted. Maria is a brave girl and the information she gave us helped me. I have begun to make fresh inquiries and I shall show you my agent’s reports…’

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Lord Young replied. ‘Coming, Elworthy? You may as well—there is nothing here to hold your attention.’

‘True enough,’ John agreed. ‘Let us go then. I believe you are right, Cavendish. If we do nothing, Forsythe will be free to continue as he pleases. I do not know what I should have done if those rogues had succeeded in their foul intent.’ The other gentlemen nodded agreement, for it was unthinkable.

They left Almack’s together, deciding to walk back to Cavendish Place because it was a fine night, completely unaware that they were being followed at a discreet distance.

‘My dear child,’ Lady Wentworth said, feeling distressed as she looked at the girl’s proud face and saw the underlying grief. ‘You will surely not hire yourself out as a companion when I have told you that you may accompany me to Bath this autumn? You know I love you as dearly as if you were my own daughter. Why will you not accept my offer to live with us at Worth Towers?’

‘I cannot accept, ma’am,’ Elizabeth Travers said, softening her denial with a smile. ‘I am very fond of you and grateful for your kindness to Mama, Simon and me these past months since Papa’s death. And after Mama’s…’ Her throat caught with tears that she refused to shed, for the loss of her mother was still raw and too painful to speak of. ‘If you will have me, I shall stay with you whenever I am in need of a refuge, but I cannot be a burden to you. Lord Wentworth has kindly paid Simon’s expenses so that he can stay on at Oxford until the end of the year, which was so generous that I shall be for ever in his debt. Besides, Lady Isadora is in need of a friend and I am delighted that she has sent for me.’

‘But you do not know her,’ Lady Wentworth protested. She was a small, plump lady with a kind heart and was genuinely fond of her late friend’s daughter. ‘And you could never be a burden to me, dear Elizabeth.’

‘You are all kindness, ma’am,’ Elizabeth said. ‘But I have given my word and I believe you would not have me break it.’

‘I suppose not, since it is given.’ Lady Wentworth sighed. ‘But you will promise to come to me should you be unhappy or in trouble?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Elizabeth promised. She smiled at the lady who had been her mother’s best friend for the past twenty years or more. ‘I cannot think what Mama would have done without your help after Papa died, especially when we learned that he had lost the greater part of his estate to Sir Montague Forsythe in that infamous wager. Had you not supported us, allowing Mama to move into the dower house at Worth Park, I do not know what might have happened to us.’ Tears stood in her eyes for the months that had passed since her father’s death had been difficult and anxious, culminating in the illness and sudden demise of Lady Travers. ‘I can never repay all you have done…’

‘So foolish…’ Lady Wentworth shook her head over the circumstance that had caused Sir Edwin Travers to hazard his estate on a horse race. Such tragic circumstances had resulted from that wager that it did not bear thinking of. ‘Wentworth was inclined to discredit it, as you know. He could not believe that his old friend would do such a reckless thing, but he made inquiries and it seems that there were witnesses—and that your dear father may have been inebriated.’

‘Yes, and that was very odd,’ Elizabeth said, ‘for Papa seldom drank to excess. Mama swore with her dying breath that he had been cheated, for she would not believe that he had been so careless of his family’s well-being—and do you know, I think she was right. I do not know how it came about, but Papa was not a careless man.’

‘Indeed, that is Wentworth’s opinion,’ his lady said, ‘but he was not able to shake the statement’s of those witnesses—though, in truth, most were Sir Montague’s cronies, but Mr Elworthy is an honest man. If it were not for his testimony, Wentworth would have contested the wager in court, but he respects Elworthy and says he would not lie.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Elizabeth frowned. It was only the testimony of Mr John Elworthy that had prevented her from asking their lawyer to fight Sir Montague Forsythe’s claims against the estate, but Lord Wentworth had advised her against it, saying the little money they had left would otherwise be lost. Yet it had rankled with Elizabeth, for, like her mama, she had refused to believe that her father would do such a foolish thing as to bet everything they had on a horse race. ‘I suppose we must accept it that Papa drank more than usual and threw everything away on a whim.’

‘Sad as it is, that seems to be the case.’ Lady Wentworth looked at her unhappily. ‘Well, if you insist upon taking up this position, you will allow us to send you in our carriage, my dear. At least Lady Isadora will know that you have friends who care for you.’

‘That is very kind and I shall not refuse,’ Elizabeth said. She was glad of the offer; though she still had a little money at her disposal, it was not much above fifty pounds. She had given the better part of what they had to her brother Simon. It was Simon’s fate she worried about more than her own: he had naturally expected to inherit their father’s estate and would now have to make his own way in the world, which would not be easy for a young man of his volatile nature. She at least had been fortunate enough to be offered a position with a lady in Yorkshire—a lady of whom Elizabeth’s mother had spoken warmly in the past.

‘This Lady Isadora…’ Lady Wentworth screwed up her brow in thought. ‘Your mother’s old friend, you said? What is her family, Elizabeth?’

‘She is the late Earl of Cavendish’s widow and the daughter of a marquis,’ Elizabeth said with a slight frown. ‘I have only met her once, when she called to see Mama on her way to stay with her husband’s uncle—the Marquis of Brandon. She stayed with us one night and I remember that she was a kind, sweet-faced lady. She gave me a doll, and Simon five guineas.’

‘A generous lady, then.’ Lady Wentworth nodded approvingly. ‘And what are her terms, my dear? You must not mind me asking, for I would not have your good nature taken advantage of and some people appear kinder than they truly are.’

‘Lady Isadora asked me if I would prefer a dress allowance or a wage and I asked for an allowance.’ Elizabeth flushed. ‘Mama would have been very shocked had she known I was to seek employment as a companion, and I think she would have preferred me to take the allowance.’

‘If you would but let me…’ Lady Wentworth sighed and gave up as she saw the girl’s look. ‘I shall say no more, dearest, but remember that you always have a home here.’

‘Yes, of course. You are always so kind.’ Elizabeth kissed her cheek and rose to take her leave. She still had some packing to do and there were other friends she should bid farewell that afternoon. ‘I shall write to you as often as I can and let you know how I go on.’

Elizabeth was thoughtful as she walked towards the dower house that had been her home for the better part of the year. She was thankful for Lady Isadora’s letter that had come just in time, because she had been on the point of approaching an agency to help her seek out the right kind of employment. She had secretly been examining the ladies’ magazines that Lady Wentworth was so kind as to pass on for a suitable post these past weeks. Her situation had become more urgent since her mother’s death. Lady Travers had been in possession of a small jointure, which remained hers despite the loss of the estate. However, it ceased on her death, leaving her children with almost nothing other than what she had managed to save. Even when her mother was alive, Elizabeth had believed she must look for employment and now she had no choice. Or at least none that she felt able to accept.

Elizabeth had known that her mother would find it painful to see her daughter take employment, but thought that she must have mentioned the possibility in her letters to Lady Isadora. Of course, they had not expected that Elizabeth would so soon be orphaned, for Lady Travers had not been particularly delicate, but she had taken a sudden virulent fever and perhaps had lacked the desire to live. Elizabeth had written to her mother’s old friend to tell her the news and some weeks later received an offer to become Lady Isadora’s companion.

Elizabeth had at first been afraid that she was being offered charity and had delayed answering for nearly a month, but Lady Isadora’s second letter had made it clear that she was truly in need of a companion. She had been ill this past winter and was unable to walk far without assistance. She needed someone to run her errands and read to her, because some days she was confined to her bed. Her letter had touched Elizabeth’s heart, and she realised that it was exactly the kind of position that would best suit her. Being so recently bereaved, she would not feel comfortable in a household where there was a constant stream of guests, and it appeared that Lady Isadora lived alone, rarely receiving visits from her family. It was exactly as Elizabeth had lived with her mother these past months—they had seldom gone into company after Sir Edwin’s death.

Lady Wentworth had been all that was kind, but Elizabeth had felt that she was being smothered by her friend’s good nature. Besides, to remain so near the estate that had been so cruelly taken from them was a source of continued grief. Had it not been for that wicked wager—which Elizabeth felt must somehow have been forced on her dear papa—he and Lady Travers might both be still be alive.

How could he have done such a foolish thing? Elizabeth had puzzled over it again and again, but she was no nearer to finding a solution. Simon had told her that he intended to get to the bottom of things, but she had begged him to be careful. He was nineteen years old, four years younger than Elizabeth, and inclined to be hot headed.

‘Father was cheated,’ her brother had told her angrily before he rode back to Oxford after her mother’s funeral. ‘I know it, Bethy, and one day I shall prove it and claim back my inheritance.’

‘I do not deny that I think the circumstances strange,’ Elizabeth said. ‘But there were witnesses and—’

‘Only one that was not in the palm of that rogue’s hand,’ Simon Travers said. ‘I have written to Elworthy twice and asked to meet, but he has refused. If there were not some havey-cavey business, he would surely have agreed. Why should he not?’

Elizabeth had found it impossible to give him a reason for Mr Elworthy’s behaviour, which seemed odd to her—as, indeed, were all the circumstances of the affair. She could not blame her brother for wishing to investigate further, as she might herself had she been in his shoes, but she did fear that he might land himself in some trouble. She could not bear it if Simon were to end up putting a pistol to his head as their father had done the day after the disastrous wager.

It had taken Lord Wentworth’s word to persuade her that Papa had not been murdered. Even now, she still had a nightmare in which her father appeared to her and demanded justice for his wrongful demise.

Sighing, Elizabeth pushed the disturbing thoughts away from her. There was nothing to be gained from dwelling on the past—she could not bring back her beloved parents. She must make up her mind to do the best she could for her future employer and simply pray that Simon would stay out of trouble.

‘But that is shameful of you, Mama,’ the Earl of Cavendish said, a wicked sparkle in his blue eyes. He was glad that he had decided to come down, for it was exactly what he needed to sweep away his growing sense of restlessness. His mother was up to mischief and his good humour was restored, his quest to find Sarah banished temporarily from his mind. ‘To lure the girl here under false pretences that way…’ His gaze swept over her fashionable toilette, taking in her elegant gown and the lustre of eyes that were almost a mirror image of his own. ‘I will own that it is almost two months since I last visited you, but…’

His mama gave a little cough and lay back against the piles of silken cushions on her elegant daybed. ‘Have you no pity for your poor mother, Daniel? I have had a terrible chill and my doctor absolutely forbade me to leave my room for ten days. I was confined to bed for five. You cannot imagine how tedious that was, dearest—especially as your sister is increasing and cannot come to me. I was lonely. Besides…’ her eyes twinkled with mischief ‘…in her last letter, my dear Serena told me that Elizabeth is very proud—a lady of character. She suspected that the girl intended to find some employment and of course it upset her dreadfully…poor Serena. It is all the fault of that scoundrel Sir Montague Forsythe, of course. He cheated her poor husband out of his estate and in desperation the foolish man put a pistol to his head.’

‘Yes…’ The earl’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Had Elworthy not witnessed the scene I might have doubted the wager ever took place—but he swears it was as Forsythe says and I have never known John to lie.’

‘No, indeed. When Serena told me that your friend was the one reliable witness my heart sank, Daniel, for I could not doubt him. He would never lie for anyone—and especially a man he despises.’

‘That has been my experience, though he says he was not one of their party, merely an observer.’ The earl’s face was thoughtful, and there was something in his eyes that might have led the men he had fought with in Spain some years earlier to suspect that he was not being as open as he might be on the subject of Sir Montague Forsythe.

‘Well, we must suppose it was an aberration,’ Lady Isadora said and sighed. ‘But I have been determined to do something for the family since I learned of their trouble. I would have offered Serena a home here had the Wentworths not done so before me—but I shall do something for the boy and I am determined to find Elizabeth a husband.’

‘But did I not hear someone say that she is plain?’ The earl raised his brows. ‘I know she did not take at her first Season and there was never another. I do not remember her for I was away serving with the army, but I am sure someone told me—it may have been you, Mama.’

‘I did not see her when she had that Season,’ Lady Isadora said, wrinkling her brow. ‘I recall her as a thin child, tall for her age, with a dark complexion and her hair in pigtails. Of course, she will have altered a great deal since then. I blame myself for not visiting the family more often. I always meant to, but somehow there was always something to prevent it. Your papa did not care for visiting and then I was busy with Melanie’s wedding, and then your father was ill…’ Lady Isadora sighed. She had been very fond of her husband, though it had not been a love match at the start. ‘After he died, I did not wish to visit anyone for a long time. I might have gone when Sir Edwin died, but Melanie was expecting her first child and—’

‘And now she is expecting her second,’ the earl said with a rueful look. ‘I dare say Rossleigh is delighted, though how he bears with her temper I do not know.’

Lady Isadora laughed wryly. ‘Yes, well, I admit that your sister gets a trifle irritable when increasing, but it is a most uncomfortable time for ladies, Daniel.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ the earl said and smiled at her. ‘But we digress, Mama. You have lured Miss Travers here under false pretences. How do you know that she will not simply turn tail and go home again once she realises that you are not the invalid she imagines?’

‘I am confident that she will not desert me when she realises that I need her.’ Lady Isadora saw the challenge in his eyes. ‘Well, I do need companionship now that Miss Ridley has left me, Daniel.’

‘You know full well that she went reluctantly to nurse her ailing mother, and that she may wish to return if anything happens in that quarter—which it may well do, Mrs Ridley being past seventy.’

‘Yes, and of course I shall take her back—how could I not?’ Lady Isadora said. ‘But sometimes I do long for young company, Daniel—and if my sweet Jane had not died of a fever when she was but a child, I should have been making plans to bring her out this year, you know.’

The earl nodded—he was aware that his mother had never quite recovered from the loss of her youngest child, and because of that made allowances for her. ‘Supposing Miss Travers does not wish to be brought out, Mama? She is, after all, grieving for the loss of both her parents.’

‘I do not mean to rush her up to town. I would not be so insensitive. However, once she has learned to know and like me, I shall suggest a visit to Brighton for my health. The sea air does me good, you know. I am not looking for a title for Elizabeth, dearest. I shall be quite content with a pleasant gentleman of modest fortune. It is merely that I know Serena would not have wanted her daughter to work for a living.’

‘Well, you must do just as you wish,’ the earl said, giving his mother a warm smile. Although they did not live in each other’s pockets there had always been a deep affection between them. ‘But what is it that you wish me to do for you, Mama?’

‘I shall entertain only a few of my neighbours for the next few weeks,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘We must be quiet at first until Elizabeth recovers her spirits, but…I wondered if you might bring a few of your friends to visit next month…’

‘And whom had you in mind?’ the earl asked, a militant sparkle in his eyes. ‘I am not sure that any of my particular friends is likely to be interested in a plain spinster past the first blush of youth—especially if she has no fortune to recommend her.’

‘But I intend to repair her fortune. Your father was generous to me, Daniel—and I have not touched the twenty thousand pounds my father left me. I thought I might settle ten thousand on her.’

‘Indeed?’ The earl raised his brows. ‘That is generous, Mama. I dare say you may find someone willing to take a plain bride for such a sum—though I am not sure you would care for Winchester or Ravenshead.’

‘Those fortune hunters?’ Lady Isadora shook her head. ‘No, indeed, they will not do for Elizabeth—but I rely on you to produce one or two others who might.’

‘Mama…’ Her son eyed her warily. ‘Supposing Miss Travers does not want to be married off to one of my friends?’

‘Well, I am not saying she must, Daniel. Do not be so obstructive! I only wish her to have some acquaintance when we finally go into company.’

‘You are a devious schemer,’ the earl said, and laughed. She had managed to banish his fit of the blue devils. ‘When does Miss Travers arrive?’

‘She should be here by the end of the week—why?’

‘I think that I shall stay and meet her,’ the earl said. ‘If I am expected to present the sacrificial lamb, then I should at least have some idea of what she looks like…’

Lady Isadora was careful not to allow her complacency to show. It suited her very well that her beloved son should remain at Cavendish Hall for a few days yet. Not that she would do anything to influence him, of course, but at the age of five and thirty it was time that the Earl of Cavendish began to think of taking a wife—and why not a girl of good breeding and character, even if she were a little plain? She had it on Serena’s authority that Elizabeth would make a very good wife for any gentleman and, after all, Cavendish could keep his mistress if he chose. A girl of Elizabeth’s breeding would very likely be pleased for him to visit her now and then, and actually prefer a country life once she had her children to love.

‘You had plenty of warning that I would need two rooms for the night.’ Elizabeth glared at the innkeeper. He towered above her, a large, ruddy-faced man. His very size made him a challenge for she was forced to crane her neck to look up at him, and he might have knocked her to the ground with very little effort. However, his bull neck was flushed red and he stared at her uncomfortably, clearly in awe of the young woman who was very determinedly remonstrating with him.

‘I’m sorry, miss, for I dunno how the mistake was made—and there’s little I can do about it now, for the gentleman has taken the room.’

‘Oh, well, I suppose there is no help for it. Have you a truckle bed for my maid to sleep in?’ She saw the denial in his face. ‘You do not expect us to sleep in the same bed?’

She saw that he did and sighed inwardly. Mary was a large girl and she snored. Elizabeth knew that for a fact, because she had fallen asleep in the carriage and after some half an hour or more she had been forced to wake the girl up.

She turned back Mary, who had lingered behind her, making faces at the young lad who was carrying tankards of ale through to a private parlour.

‘Come along, Mary,’ she said, just as the door of the private parlour opened and two gentlemen came out. ‘It seems that the landlord has let one of our rooms to someone else, which means that you will have to sleep in my bed.’

‘But I snore, miss,’ Mary said looking as alarmed as Elizabeth felt. ‘’Tain’t right you should have to share with me. Tell him as you want the rooms you sent for, miss.’

‘I have already done so,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do. You must make up your mind to it, Mary.’

‘But I kick, miss. Leastways, my sister allus said as I did when we were children.’

‘Come along, Mary. I have told you, the room is let and we must make the best of things.’

‘Excuse me, ma’am.’ One of the two gentlemen from the parlour came towards her. ‘I could not help overhearing your maid. I think I may have taken one of your rooms. Please forgive me for any inconvenience. I shall have the landlord move my things immediately.’

‘There ain’t no more rooms, Mr Elworthy,’ the landlord objected. ‘You’ll have to sleep with the other gentleman or over the stables.’

‘I shall be quite happy with the stables,’ John Elworthy said and smiled at Elizabeth. ‘I think that perhaps I have the best of the two rooms. If you would care to sit in the parlour for a few minutes, I am sure the landlord can make all right. Perhaps you wish to take supper?’

‘I had thought the parlour would be ours,’ Elizabeth said. She had stiffened at the mention of his name and did not wish to be obliged to him, for she could not help wondering if he were the same Mr Elworthy who had been a witness to her father’s ruin. ‘But I believe we shall do well enough in our rooms—if the landlord would be good enough to send us some supper up?’

‘Yes, of course, miss. Just you wait in the parlour for a moment or two and my wife will fetch you as soon as maybe.’

‘I would give the parlour up to you,’ John Elworthy said and glanced awkwardly towards the stairs, up which the second gentleman had disappeared. ‘However, Sir Montague has bespoken his supper there and I fear he would not accept a move to the taproom.’

‘You are here with that man?’ Elizabeth looked at him in horror. ‘If he is using the parlour, then I shall not set foot in it. Indeed, I do not think I can stay here at all this night…’

She turned to leave, but Mr Elworthy caught her arm urgently. ‘You know something of Sir Montague Forsythe?’

Elizabeth looked back at him, her face pale. ‘He—and I think perhaps you in part, sir—were responsible for my father’s ruin and his death.’

It was Mr Elworthy’s turn to look shocked. ‘Then you must be…’

‘Yes, sir. I am Elizabeth Travers.’ Her eyes were bright with a mixture of anger and accusation as she looked at him. ‘I had not thought you such a close friend of Sir Montague, but since you are travelling together—’

‘Indeed, Miss Travers, you wrong me.’ John Elworthy hesitated, and then, ‘Would you do me the honour of stepping into the parlour for one moment? I have something I would wish to say to you in private.’

Elizabeth was inclined to refuse, and yet he seemed a steady, pleasant man, not handsome by any means, but with an attractive manner. And of course this was the opportunity her brother had sought and been refused. She inclined her head and went in front of him into the parlour, leaving Mary to wait for her in the hallway.

‘Well, sir—what have you to say to me?’

‘Firstly, I wish to say that I was never more shocked in my life than when I heard what had happened to your father, Miss Travers. I knew him only slightly, but had not thought him a man to gamble so carelessly. Nor did I expect that he would—’ He shook his head and looked grave. ‘But I did see him in the company of Sir Montague and I happened to hear the wager he made on that horse race, for I was standing next to their party. I would say that Sir Edwin had been drinking unwisely and that he spoke recklessly.’

‘You were standing next to Papa when he made the wager?’

‘Yes, I was. I thought it foolish, but it was not my affair. I wish now that I had remonstrated with him, but of course I could not—a wager is, after all, a matter of honour between gentlemen and once accepted cannot be taken back.’

‘But if Papa was drunk…’

‘I agree that no true gentleman would have accepted such a wager—but I fear that Sir Montague is not of such nice scruples.’

‘No, indeed, for we were given only two weeks to leave our home and we were not allowed any time to grieve.’

‘That was wicked indeed.’ Mr Elworthy looked distressed at the news of how harshly they had been treated. ‘He should be ashamed of himself!’

‘I had not thought you a friend to Sir Montague, sir? Lord Wentworth told me that your word was to be trusted.’

John Elworthy met the angry sparkle of her eyes. Miss Travers was a tall girl, attractive rather than pretty in his opinion, her figure shapely, her dark hair peeping beneath the brim of her bonnet. However, her eyes were lustrous and expressive and just now held a challenge that had to be answered. He could not tell her the truth, of course—which was that he had deliberately followed Sir Montague in order to have what seemed a chance meeting.

‘We travelled here independently. We are polite to one another socially—our estates are no more than twenty miles apart—but I have never been more than an acquaintance, I assure you. I hope you will believe me?’

‘Yes, I must do so since you tell me as a gentleman,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I have always believed there was some mystery in this matter of the wager, but—’ She broke off as the parlour door opened and another gentleman came in. He was in his middle years, a tall, heavy-boned man with a ravaged complexion and a long nose. Knowing that he must be the man who had, she still believed, in some way cheated her father, she gave Mr Elworthy a speaking look and left the room immediately.

As she went out into the hall, the landlord came to tell her that her room was now ready, and Mary beckoned urgently from the top of the stairs. Elizabeth went straight up, her head held proudly as she fought the rush of anger that had come over her as her father’s murderer entered the parlour. Nothing could alter the fact that he had caused her father’s death by taking that infamous wager.

‘We’re side by side, miss,’ Mary told her. ‘I shall be able to hear you if you call me in the night.’

Elizabeth doubted that, for the girl slept like one of the dead, but she smiled and nodded. She had not wanted to bring Mary at all, but Lady Wentworth had insisted that she ought not to travel alone, because it would be necessary to stop at an inn for one night on the way.

‘I do not think that likely,’ Elizabeth told her. ‘I intend to lock my door when I retire and I should advise you to do the same. I will require your help to unpack my things,’ Elizabeth added. ‘But I shall not need your services again this evening.’

After Mary had unpacked she left the room. Elizabeth took off her bonnet and travelling cape, laying them down on the stool at the foot of the bed. At that moment there was a knock at the door, and then the landlady’s wife entered with a tray containing a dish of cold meat, pickles and some bread and butter together with a glass of ale, a jug of water beside it.

‘You said as you wanted a light meal, miss?’

‘Yes, thank you, that will do very well,’ Elizabeth said. She might have wished for a cup of tea, but doubted that it would be worth drinking had she ordered it.

After the woman had left, she ate a little of the bread, with some butter. It was fresh and wholesome. Elizabeth had no appetite for the meat or pickle, and drank only a mouthful or two of the strong ale.

It was still light as she looked out of her window, and she felt restless, disinclined for sleep. Yet she felt it might not be prudent to go downstairs again, especially as Sir Montague was staying at the same inn. He probably had no idea of who she was—unless Mr Elworthy had told him after she left the room, of course—but she had no wish to meet him.

At least there was a decent supply of candles in her room, which meant she might read for a while before she slept. She would be glad to reach her journey’s end, she thought, for it had been tedious with only Mary for company. How different it might have been if her dear mama had been alive.

Elizabeth pulled a wry face. It was time to start thinking of the future—even though there was little to cheer her in that if the truth were faced. She must be at the beck and call of her employer, and though she believed that would be an easy task in Lady Isadora’s case, she might not always be in that lady’s service.

Sometimes, Elizabeth wondered what her life might have been had she accepted one of the three proposals she had received when she was nineteen. She had not been universally popular during her Season, but she had attracted some admirers. However, she had not felt that she wished to marry any of them, and her mother had told her that she should wait, that the right man was bound to come along. They had spoken of giving her another Season, but somehow it had not happened. Her father had been unwell one year, and then he had seemed to be anxious about his estate, and things had drifted—until he had died and the estate was no longer theirs.

No, she would not have wanted to marry any of the gentlemen who had asked her, Elizabeth decided as she began to brush her hair. In the soft candlelight her skin looked creamy and her hair had a reddish tint. Her features were perhaps a little plainer than was required for true beauty, but her eyes were remarkable. However, she saw none of this, for she was not in the habit of noticing her own appearance, except to make sure that her hair was tidy and her gown clean and respectable. She had gone into company very seldom these past two years, and had long ago given up hope of marriage. The best that might come her way now was to be an aunt to her brother’s children should he find himself able to take a wife.

Elizabeth read her book, which was a slender volume of poems that had come from her father’s library, and was one of the few items that she had managed to bring away with her. She and her mother had been told they might take only personal possessions, and the book had been amongst her things for she often read at night. Lady Travers had taken a few pieces of silver, which had been personal gifts to her, but all else was denied them. Those silver items remained at Worth Towers, for Elizabeth believed they might be sold for a few guineas, and her brother would have need of money when he came down from Oxford if he were to have time to look about him for a suitable position.

Somehow she could not see Simon as a lowly clerk, but it would not be easy to find a post as an estate manager. Perhaps she would talk to him when he came down, try to discover what he would truly wish to do if he had the choice.

‘Oh, Papa,’ Elizabeth murmured as she got into bed. ‘I do wish you had not made that wager…’

Elizabeth partook of a breakfast of bread and honey in her room the next morning. When she went downstairs she looked for Mr Elworthy, but saw nothing of him. On inquiry, she was told that both gentlemen had departed some minutes earlier. For a moment she regretted that she had not taken the chance to question him further about what he had seen, but supposed that he had told her all he could about her father’s behaviour. It would simply have to remain a mystery, for she had woken with a new determination to put the past behind her.

Mary did not make the mistake of oversleeping, so they were able to leave the inn in good time. Elizabeth had asked the innkeeper’s wife for a basket of provisions, and they ate a picnic in the carriage, stopping only once at a post house to change the horses, which meant that they approached Cavendish Hall at just before three that same afternoon.

Elizabeth craned to catch a glimpse of the house as the carriage drove up to the front entrance, feeling pleased as she saw that it was not a huge, ancient mansion, but a pleasant country home. She would guess that there were no more than ten or twelve bedrooms, and it had the look of a substantial building put up in the last century with long windows and a good slate roof. In fact, it was much like her father’s house, and she immediately felt that she would be at ease here.

‘You’ll be all right ’ere, miss,’ Mary gave her opinion as the door opened and an obliging footman helped them both down from the carriage. ‘I reckon as it ain’t much bigger than Worth House.’

‘No, that is very true,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘And very pretty. Look at those roses growing against that wall.’

‘That’ll be south facing, mark my words,’ Mary said. ‘If your room looks out this way it will be warm even in winter, miss.’

‘I dare say the family has the front-facing rooms,’ Elizabeth said. She glanced up at the windows and glimpsed a female figure clothed in a gown of pale peach for a moment, and then another woman, dressed more soberly in grey, came out of the house. She smiled as she approached them.

‘Miss Travers?’ the woman asked. ‘I am Mrs Bates—Lady Isadora’s housekeeper. You are in good time, miss. We wondered whether you might be late because of the state of the roads.’

‘No, indeed, we made good speed,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I think some of the country roads were a little rutted, but the highways were well enough.’

The housekeeper nodded, leading the way inside. A young maid was waiting in the hall, and she came to take Mary away and show her where to go. Elizabeth wondered if she might be given a moment to tidy herself before meeting her employer, but instead Mrs Bates led her upstairs to a parlour on the first floor.

‘Her ladyship is expecting you, Miss Travers. If you would care to greet her, your maid may unpack your things for you by the time you go up.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Elizabeth said. She stifled a sigh. She must accept that she was an employee now and not at liberty to do as she pleased. ‘Thank you, Mrs Bates.’

The housekeeper opened the parlour door and announced her. She then stood back for Elizabeth to go past her, which she did with some trepidation. Her heart was beating wildly as she advanced into the room and glanced at the lady lying elegantly on a sofa near the fireplace, where a small fire was glowing despite the spring sunshine. Dressed in an elegant peach silk gown, she looked younger and more stylish than Elizabeth had imagined, and she was glad that she had chosen to wear one of her better gowns. Although grey because of her mourning, it was becoming and of good quality cloth.

‘Ma’am…’ Elizabeth said hesitantly. ‘Lady Isadora…?’

‘Elizabeth, my dear,’ Lady Isadora said and eased herself into a sitting position. ‘How kind of you to come to me so quickly.’ She gave a little cough behind her hand. ‘I have been very poorly, but I must confess I am feeling a little better today. Perhaps it is the prospect of your company that has made me feel more cheerful.’

‘I was pleased to come,’ Elizabeth said, advancing further into the room. She bobbed a slight curtsy and smiled. ‘It was very kind of you to offer me the position as your companion.’

‘Oh, no, I am happy to have your company,’ Lady Isadora said holding out both her hands. ‘My companion of many years has retired to take care of her mother, and my daughter is increasing, which means she cannot travel to see me—though my son has decided to visit me at last.’ Her plaintive tone managed to convey the idea that it was a rare occurrence. ‘He is out seeing to estate matters at the moment, but will be here for dinner, I dare say.’

Elizabeth took her outstretched hands, bending to kiss her cheek since it appeared to be expected. She was kissed warmly in return and then was asked to sit on the chair opposite Lady Isadora’s sofa.

‘You must be happy to have him here, ma’am?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Lady Isadora told her with a sigh. ‘Cavendish is a good enough son to me, but it is not like having the company of a young lady. My youngest daughter would have been eighteen this year had she lived. It has been much on my mind of late. I would have been making plans to bring her out this summer.’

‘Oh, I did not know of your loss,’ Elizabeth sympathised instantly. ‘I am so sorry. You must miss her dreadfully.’

‘Yes, I do, of course,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘My eldest daughter is married, but I see her so infrequently…’ Not quite the truth, for Melanie had spent a month with her earlier in the year.

‘You have friends, ma’am?’

‘Yes.’ Lady Isadora waved her hand languidly. ‘I have not entertained much recently because of my illness…’ She coughed delicately. ‘However, once I am feeling a little stronger—’ She broke off, frowning as she heard footsteps in the hall. She had told Daniel to stay away from the parlour until the evening, but he had either forgotten or ignored her request. ‘It seems we are about to have company…’

‘Mama…’ The earl came into the room and stood looking at his mother for a moment before turning his gaze on Elizabeth. His brows narrowed—she was not quite what he had expected. Not pretty by any means, but certainly not the plain-faced spinster he had been anticipating. He had been right to suspect his mother of some mischief. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Travers. We had not expected you this early.’

‘If I am in the way…’ Elizabeth sensed his reserve and stiffened. She had the feeling that he did not quite approve of her being here. She stood up as if prepared to leave the room.

‘Oh, do not mind Daniel,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘Ring for tea, my love—that little bell on the table beside you. Unless you wish to go up and refresh yourself first?’

‘Thank you, I should like to wash my hands before taking tea,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I shall return in fifteen minutes.’ She lifted her brilliant eyes to meet the earl’s. ‘Will that be sufficient time for you to speak privately with Lady Isadora, sir?’

‘Quite adequate,’ he said and inclined his head, his expression giving little away. ‘Besides, Mama will be impatient for your return. I am sure she wishes to talk to you about so many things…’

There was an odd expression in his eyes, almost as though he suspected her of something. Elizabeth inclined her head to him, smiled at her employer and walked from the room. Her head was up, her back very straight. She hesitated as to whether she should close the door behind her, and, as she lingered for a second, she heard the sound of the earl’s laughter.

‘Well, Mama, what are you up to?’ he said in a mocking tone. ‘Not quite the little country mouse you led me to believe. Not pretty, but not hopeless by any means. I think that perhaps you will have no need of my sacrificial lamb. I dare say you will find what you require without any help from me…’

‘Daniel, do not be so provoking. Tell me, did you not think her a charming gel?’

Elizabeth’s face went bright red as she heard the tinkling laugh from her hostess. She hurried across the hall and up the stairs, not wanting to hear another word of their conversation.

Chapter Two

A helpful footman sent Elizabeth in the right direction at the top of the stairs, and she found a young maid assisting Mary to unpack her things in a large, front-facing bedchamber. The sun was warming the room, giving it a welcoming atmosphere, and the two girls were laughing together, clearly getting on well. However, as Elizabeth entered, the rather pretty maid curtsied to her and smiled, telling her that she was called Amy and that Lady Isadora had asked her to wait on Elizabeth.

‘I am to look after you when Mary goes home,’ Amy said. ‘I thought I would take the opportunity to see how you like things done, Miss Travers.’

‘That is very kind of you,’ Elizabeth said, ‘but my needs are very few. I am used to dressing myself these days.’

Amy’s eyes were approving as she took in the neat bodice and skirt Elizabeth was wearing; its cut was good and it had more style than the gowns Lady Isadora’s former companion had worn, but then Miss Travers was more of a guest than an employee from what Amy had heard below stairs.

‘I shall press your gowns and you might like me to do your hair for you, miss—in the evenings when her ladyship entertains.’

‘Yes, perhaps.’ Elizabeth frowned—she had not expected to be assigned her own maid nor that her employer would give the kind of dinners that required her to need the services of a maid. However, she had brought all her best gowns with her so she would not disgrace her employer. ‘Could you both come back a little later, if you please? I should like to be alone for a moment.’

‘Yes, Miss Travers, of course. Come along, Mary. I will show you where we eat…’

Elizabeth washed her hands and made herself comfortable. She glanced at herself in the pretty dressing mirror, which was in the shape of a shield and in keeping with the rest of the furniture in the room. The furnishings were after the style of Mr Adam, she thought, and had obviously been replaced quite recently. It was an elegant, comfortable room and seemed to be one of the best guest bedchambers. That puzzled her a little, for she had not been sure what to expect.

Her cheeks grew warm again as she recalled the mockery in the Earl of Cavendish’s voice as he had spoken to his mother about her. So they had expected her to be a country mouse, had they? Elizabeth felt a pang of chagrin—she did not take kindly to the idea that she was an object of pity. It was true that her circumstances were altered, but she was still the daughter of a gentleman and she did not need—would not accept—charity. She had thought that Lady Isadora would be a kind employer, but she had expected to earn her keep and the dress allowance her employer had offered.

But what had the earl been hinting at when he spoke of a sacrificial lamb? Perhaps she had misunderstood him? After some thought, she decided that he must surely have been speaking on another matter, which had nothing to do with her at all.

She must not jump to conclusions that might be false, Elizabeth decided as she left the room and went back down the stairs to the parlour on the first floor. She felt a little tentative lest the earl should still be with his mother, but when she tapped at the door and was invited to enter, she soon discovered that Lady Isadora was alone.

‘Ah, there you are, my dear,’ she said, smiling at Elizabeth. ‘You have been very quick. I am sure it would take me much longer.’

‘I did not wish to keep you waiting, Lady Isadora.’

‘No, no, you must not be so formal when we are alone. Please call me by my name, Elizabeth.’

‘That would not be fitting for I hardly know you and must show respect. May I call you ma’am?’

‘Yes, of course, if you wish. But once you are settled here you may feel it easier to call me Isadora or Dora, as my friends do, Elizabeth. I know it must all seem very strange to you at first, but I live very simply here most of the time. Of course, it will be different when we visit Brighton in the summer—and perhaps Bath later in the year, for my health you know. I seldom go up to London—I find it too tiring.’

Elizabeth had imagined her employer to be a semi-invalid, but had begun to realise her mistake. Whatever her illness had been, it was obviously not serious enough to render her unfit for company.

‘Mama found London very tiring also. I think that is why we did not often visit. Papa went up on business a few times a year…’ Her words faltered. It was during one of his business trips that Sir Edwin had ruined himself and his family.

‘Yes, that sorry business was all very sad,’ Lady Isadora said, guessing what had brought that look of pain to her eyes, ‘but you must try to put it behind you now, my dear. You are too young to waste your life in regret. You have come here to be my companion, and I am truly in need of it at the moment, Elizabeth. We both have cause for grief, but we shall find ways to enjoy ourselves. Now that you are here I shall go visiting again…at least I shall in a few days, when I feel better.’ She gave a delicate cough and dabbed her lips with a lavender-scented kerchief. ‘But come and sit with me, Elizabeth. I was about to ask you if you would tell me about yourself before we were interrupted…’

Elizabeth blushed. ‘Does Lord Cavendish often visit you, ma’am?’

‘Hardly at all.’ His mother dismissed her son’s devotion with a wave of her hand. ‘You need not bother your head about him, Elizabeth. Cavendish has his own life and will not interfere with us. We shall live very quietly, entertaining just a few of my old friends…’

Elizabeth was relieved—she was not to know that her employer was sometimes economical with the truth and inclined to paint the picture in her mind rather than reality.

‘Mama and I have lived quietly this past year or so since…’ Elizabeth lifted her head. ‘And of course since she passed away I have been only in the company of Lord and Lady Wentworth.’

‘Ah, yes, it was so kind of Lady Wentworth to spare you to me. I dare say she wished to keep you with her, did she not? Her letter to me was most complimentary, Elizabeth.’

‘Oh, I did not know that she had written…’ Elizabeth was surprised and a little annoyed that her friend had gone so far. ‘Lady Wentworth was a good neighbour and friend to Mama these past twenty years. She wished me to make my home with her, but I could not accept charity. I had made up my mind to seek a position and your letter was most welcome. I hope that I shall be of some real service to you, ma’am.’

‘Well, certainly you will. I am sorely in need of someone to keep me from falling into a fit of the sullens.’ Lady Isadora smiled, hardly looking in need of any such assistance. ‘It was my dear Jane’s birthday just last week and I have felt a trifle off-colour ever since.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Elizabeth said, understanding perfectly that the occasion of her lost child’s birthday must have affected her. ‘Mama and I found Christmas very hard to bear—Papa loved entertaining all his friends and we always had wonderful celebrations at that time.’

‘You understand how I feel as no one else can,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘But we must not be sad, dearest Elizabeth. We shall make plans to entertain our friends—for my friends will all approve of you and so they will become your friends too.’

‘Yes, of course. I shall be happy to help you entertain them, ma’am. You must tell me what my duties are and I shall endeavour to please.’

‘Duties…’ Lady Isadora bit back the words that might have given her away; she thought of Elizabeth as a welcome guest, but did not want her to feel that she was being offered charity. ‘Well, I like to embroider now and then and my silks are for ever tangled. Also I am constantly leaving things behind and need someone to fetch them for me—and when I am feeling lazy I like to lie on my sofa and listen to a pleasant voice reading from one of Cavendish’s books. He has an extensive library, which you must feel free to use as you please—but most of all I need someone to talk to, Elizabeth.’

Elizabeth did not think that her duties sounded very onerous, but she would possibly find others for herself. She had noticed that some of the flowers in the various rooms were falling and had not been renewed for a day or so.

‘I enjoy arranging flowers, if you would like me to do that for you,’ she suggested tentatively.

‘Oh, yes, that is another little task I find too tiring,’ Lady Isadora lied. ‘And the Vicar is always asking me for flowers for the church—you might like to assist him in various ways. He is such a pleasant young man—too young to be alone. His wife died in childbed last year, you know, and the baby with her. It was such a shame, for he doted on her.’

‘That was a tragedy,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I am so sorry to hear of it.’

‘Yes. I liked Amabel,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘She was such a busy woman, always helping others. She visited often and I gave her things for the poor—or the fête. We have a fête each year in August. The Reverend Bell is very keen to help the destitute of other countries as well as our own. A very dedicated young man…though somewhat too serious since his wife died.’

‘He has suffered a great loss,’ Elizabeth said. ‘It must be a constant grief to him.’

‘Yes, poor man.’ Lady Isadora sighed. She had thought at first that her old friend’s daughter might be an ideal replacement for Amabel—at least as a last resort if no eligible gentleman presented himself—but since meeting her she was inclined to think that it would not do. She would wish to look higher for Elizabeth. ‘Well, I think that is quite enough to keep anyone busy, my dear.’

‘Yes, I believe I can make myself useful here,’ Elizabeth said, feeling pleased. In truth, it would not be so very different from the life she had led at home—or that she might have led at Lady Wentworth’s house had she been able to accept her neighbour’s kindness. However, she believed that her employer had fallen into the doldrums because of the anniversary that should have been such a happy one had Jane Cavendish lived. Her duties were light, but she thought that she could find others that would be of some use to her employer. It seemed that she would be quite at home here—providing only that the earl did not visit too often. She believed that she had sensed disapproval in him, and his mockery had pricked her pride. She would be happy to serve Lady Isadora, but hoped that she would not have to meet with the earl more than necessary.

They had been talking for some time when Elizabeth noticed the time, asking, ‘At what hour do we dine, ma’am?’

‘When alone I ask Chef to prepare an early dinner, but when Cavendish is here we dine at six, Elizabeth.’ Lady Isadora looked at the mantel clock, a pretty gilded affair with cast-bronze cherubs and a silvered dial, made in France and a recent gift from her thoughtful son. ‘I think perhaps we should go up for it is half past four and Monsieur Delfarge hates to be kept waiting.’ She laughed delightedly—they had been talking for more than an hour and it seemed no more than a minute. ‘How time flies when one is pleasantly engaged.’

‘Yes, indeed.’ Elizabeth nodded her agreement. ‘You have a French chef here?’

‘Oh, yes, Cavendish is meticulous about such things. I am well cared for—though too much alone.’ Lady Isadora made a recover. ‘This is his house, of course. He would not have me remove to the Dower House—he spends much of his time in London or at one of his other estates—but he likes things to be just so when he visits.’

Elizabeth nodded, feeling thoughtful. She had thought the earl a careless son, neglectful of his mother’s feelings, but perhaps she had misjudged him.

She rose to accompany Lady Isadora from the room. ‘Is there anything I may do for you, ma’am?’

‘Oh, no, my dear. My maid will help me dress—but perhaps you will play for us this evening? I believe your mama told me that you play the pianoforte. Cavendish bought a rather fine instrument quite recently. I do not play much myself these days, but I should enjoy listening to you.’

‘I find it a pleasant pastime,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I do not know if you will find me competent, but I shall do my best.’

‘Oh, I am sure you will,’ Lady Isadora said with a vague smile. ‘I remember that Serena had a fine singing voice—do you sing, Elizabeth?’

‘Yes, sometimes, though not of late.’

‘Well, you shall play for us this evening, and perhaps sing another time,’ Lady Isadora said, and on that note they parted, each to their own bedchamber to dress for dinner.

Alone in her room, Elizabeth took stock of her surroundings, knowing it would not take her more than an hour to dress. It was such a comfortable room, with everything that she could want, including an attractive writing desk and chair by the window where she might compose her letters, a stool, wing chair and several small tables and chests, also an impressive armoire for her clothes.

She had two good evening dresses, one of a pale, pearly grey silk, the other a dark blue heavy grosgrain, which she had worn only a few times. It was some time since she had purchased a gown for the evenings, and she had left her older ones behind, believing that two would be sufficient. She went over to the large armoire, thinking that her wardrobe would be lost in its vastness, but when she opened it, she stared in surprise—there were several gowns hanging there that she had never seen before. She took a pretty yellow silk evening gown out to look at it, and was holding it in front of herself to admire it when the door opened and Amy entered.

‘Oh, yes, miss that would suit you well,’ Amy said. ‘I noticed that it was a little long when I put your things away earlier, but it would take no time at all to make a temporary hem and I could do it properly tomorrow.’

‘But I have never seen this gown before,’ Elizabeth told her. ‘It does not belong to me.’

‘Her ladyship told me that she had taken the liberty of buying you one or two things as a welcome gift,’ the girl said with a smile. ‘She said that she wasn’t quite sure of your size, but had ordered them long enough so that we might alter them to fit when you arrived.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Elizabeth had expected that she would be able to choose her own clothes when she was offered a dress allowance. She was not yet ready to wear such bright colours, though there was no denying that the yellow silk was of good quality and in perfect taste. ‘Thank you for explaining, Amy. I don’t think I shall wear this yet—perhaps in a few weeks when I put off my mourning. I shall wear my own grey gown, thank you.’

‘And very elegant it is too, miss,’ Amy said approvingly as she took it out—she liked its simple cut, which she knew would look well on Elizabeth. ‘Would you like me to dress your hair? I could style it a little differently, if you wished.’

‘That is very kind of you,’ Elizabeth said, ‘but I think I will not make a change just yet—perhaps another time.’

‘Yes, Miss Travers.’ Amy made no further comment, though in her opinion the young lady could make more of her best features than she did.

Dressed in the pearl grey gown, Elizabeth fastened a small choker of pearls at her throat. They had been her mother’s gift to her on her last birthday, and she knew they had been her father’s wedding present to his bride. She touched them with her fingers—it made her emotional to wear them, but they would brighten the gown and give her ensemble the something extra she knew it needed.

When Amy left her, Elizabeth went back to the armoire and looked at the other gowns Lady Isadora had ordered for her. She discovered a pretty green-striped morning gown, a deep blue carriage gown, two afternoon gowns, one white and one peach, and another evening dress in white shot with silver. She could not fault her employer’s taste—they were just such as she might have ordered for herself if she had been given another Season in town. However, she thought them a little too smart for a companion and would not have chosen them in her present circumstances. Since Lady Isadora had presented her with them, she decided she would wear them as soon as she felt able.

It wanted twenty minutes to six, but Elizabeth decided to go downstairs rather than remain alone in her room. Lady Isadora had mentioned her son’s library and she was eager to see what she could find that might be suitable to read to her employer in the afternoons, and she might also find something she could bring back to her room to read before she slept.

She stopped to speak to one of the footmen, asking for the direction of the earl’s library and was informed that it was on the ground floor at the rear of the house. She made her way unhurriedly towards it, entering with a feeling of pleasure as she saw that it was a large, long room lined on three sides with impressive mahogany shelves, the windows on the fourth side sufficiently large to let in a good light. There were several sofas and chairs with reading stands close by, and a leather-topped drum table at one end, a square pedestal table at the other. She walked along the length of the shelves, feeling puzzled as she realised that nothing was in order; there were all kinds of literature, estate records, poetry and serious works jumbled up together.

‘It is in rather a mess, is it not?’

Elizabeth jumped as she heard the earl’s voice and turned to look at him. ‘I beg your pardon, sir. I did not hear you come in.’

He ignored her rather flustered address. ‘My father was a great buyer of books, but he had no idea of how they should be stored. I have thought that I would make a start on cataloguing what we have one day, but as yet I have not begun.’

‘I have seen several volumes that would seem to be first editions,’ Elizabeth said, looking thoughtfully at the shelves. ‘How would you wish the books to be arranged, sir—in categories or by author?’

The earl raised his brows, his piercing blue eyes intent on her face. ‘Are you offering to undertake the task, Miss Travers?’

‘It would be a pleasure to at least make a start, though of course it could take many months or even years to complete,’ Elizabeth said, turning her serious eyes on him. ‘But only if I have your approval?’

‘Well, you must not tire yourself,’ the earl said, ‘or my mother will have it that I am a wicked slave driver—but if you have a few moments to spare now and then…’

‘It would be much easier for you if all the estate books were in one section, the serious works on another shelf, for they are perhaps the books you like to read, and then literature and poetry.’

‘You have excellent judgement, Miss Travers. I see that I could do no better than to leave my library in your hands.’

‘Oh…’ She blushed with pleasure, for something in his look had made her heart flutter. ‘If you are sure, it would be such a pleasure to me, sir. Of all things I love books, reading and touching them—and to catalogue such a wonderful collection would be such a treat.’

‘Is it a wonderful collection? I had thought there were a few treasures, but most of it seems a hotchpotch of nonsense.’

‘Oh, no, how could you?’ Elizabeth caught the gleam in his eyes and realised that he was teasing her. ‘But you know there are some rare volumes here, do you not?’

‘Yes, I confess it is one of my interests, and if I were not dreadfully indolent I would have put them in order before this—but I have not been at home often since my return from the Peninsula, you see. And there has been much to see to at our various estates—my father had not been well for a while before his death.’

‘And I dare say you did not like to make sweeping changes to your father’s domain too soon?’

The earl gave her a thoughtful look, his eyes slightly narrowed. ‘You are perceptive, Miss Travers. For one reason or another my father had allowed things to slide. I have improved things gradually, particularly here since this was my mother’s home. She dislikes our estates in Hampshire and Devon, and of course I reside in London for much of the year.’

Elizabeth nodded. She had noticed the changes he had made—they brought a breath of fresh air to the house. ‘I believe you have patronised Mr Adam, sir? I must say that I admire his work greatly.’

‘His work gives a lightness not often found in the design of others—Mr Chippendale is a great furniture maker, but I believe I prefer Mr Adam’s work.’

‘That is my own feeling,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘Lady Wentworth recently began the refurbishment of Worth Hall, you know. We discussed the merits of Mr Sheraton and Mr Adam at length—but in the end she decided that she would choose Mr Adam’s work for the drawing room.’

‘Ah…’ The earl smiled. ‘Then I shall know who to turn to when it comes to persuading Mama that she should have her own apartments refurbished.’

‘Oh, no,’ Elizabeth said, a faint colour in her cheeks. Was he mocking her? Perhaps she had spoken out of turn, forgetting that she was merely an employee? ‘I could not possibly influence Lady Isadora. She has excellent taste.’

‘Yes, she does,’ he agreed. Hearing the longcase clock in the hall strike the hour, he inclined his head to her. ‘We must not keep Mama waiting—or perhaps it would be more precise to say we must not upset Monsieur Delfarge. You must know that he is French and somewhat temperamental. I had to bribe him to come here, for he prefers London, but he obliged me and we must not do anything that would cause him to desert us. Poor Mama suffered with a terrible cook for years.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Elizabeth said and laughed, for he was clearly jesting now. ‘I do understand. My mama had a dreadful cook for some years, too. Papa finally told her that if she did not dismiss her he would go to London and live at his club.’

‘Then you understand why we are all at such pains to be punctual for meals.’ The earl gave her his lazy smile, which unaccountably made Elizabeth’s heart beat rather faster than usual. ‘Tell me, Miss Travers, do you think you shall settle here?’

‘Yes, I believe so, sir,’ she replied. ‘I was very grateful to Lady Isadora for offering me the position as her companion.’

‘Ah, yes,’ the earl said, and mischief lurked in the depth of his eyes. ‘Did you have a good journey down?’

‘Yes…’ Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, and then, ‘It was an odd coincidence…I met and spoke to Mr John Elworthy, who I believe is a friend of yours—and I also saw Sir Montague Forsythe at the inn we had chosen to break our journey. Mr Elworthy had been given one of our rooms, but he gave it up to me and slept in the stables when he learned of the mistake.’

Cavendish nodded. ‘Yes, John would do that. He is one of the best—a perfect gentleman.’

‘You know him well, sir?’ Elizabeth looked at him, her fine brows raised.

‘Certainly. His estate is some fifteen miles from here and we were at school together as lads.’

‘Oh…’ Elizabeth was thoughtful. ‘Mr Elworthy was the only reliable witness to my father’s wager, you know.’

‘Yes, I do know. He has told me of what he saw and heard that day. John says that he wishes he had not heard Sir Edwin’s words so clearly, otherwise he would have believed that your father was trapped into the wager—which would, of course, make it null and void.’

‘It is what I have always believed. Papa would not normally have done anything that foolish. He was not a gambler nor did he drink to excess.’

The earl nodded and looked thoughtful. ‘I dislike Sir Montague Forsythe for reasons which we shall not discuss, and there may come a time when his activities will be under intense scrutiny. I can say no more for the moment—but should his affairs be investigated, I will undertake to see what can be done about your father’s affair.’

They had gained the top of the stairs. Elizabeth stopped to look at him, trying to read his expression and failing. ‘Do you think my father could have been coerced into making that wager, sir?’

‘I cannot tell what may have occurred,’ the earl said. ‘I only know for certain that I believe Sir Montague to be less than honest—and perhaps a dangerous man.’

‘Dangerous?’

‘Yes, I believe so, though I have no proof,’ the earl said. ‘But you must say nothing for the present, Miss Travers. I have only suspicions to go on, and there must be proof.’

‘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.’

‘Yes, I do know that she suspects him. We have talked several times for it is not a subject that she feels able to discuss with anyone else. She has not told her sister or my brother what happened, because she thinks people would believe she had done something to encourage the attack, though of course she did not. But as far as Sir Montague is concerned, she says that when she refused his offer of marriage he threatened that she would be sorry—and something the men said as they were trying to capture her made her believe he was at the back of it.’ John frowned. ‘Perhaps it was merely planned as an abduction, to force her into marriage. She is, after all, an heiress and Forsythe has already run through more than one fortune.’

Daniel was thoughtful. ‘You know that Charles Hunter’s young sister Sarah was abducted a year ago, of course.’

John nodded. ‘It was a terrible thing, Daniel—and nothing has been heard of her since?’

‘Nothing. Mrs Hunter was so distressed that she had a mental breakdown and has not come out of her room for the past six months—and Charles has vowed to kill whoever was responsible if he ever discovers who it was.’

John Elworthy nodded and looked solemn. Lady Elworthy’s younger sister was young enough at seventeen, but Charles Hunter’s sister had been no more than sixteen when she disappeared when out walking near her home. To imagine her fate if she had fallen into the wrong hands was unimaginably horrendous.

His eyes narrowed. ‘I think I should have gone mad with grief if we had not recovered Maria that night. I cannot imagine how Hunter must feel.’

‘Angry, bewildered, frustrated,’ Daniel said toying with the handle of his tankard as he struggled to control the fierce emotions raging within. ‘He has been drinking too much of late. It was only my intervention that kept him from playing cards with Forsythe the other evening. Imagine what they would have done with him in a fit of recklessness! He might have been ruined as well as broken in spirit.’

‘Poor fellow,’ John said. ‘But I still cannot believe that gentlemen would be involved in such wickedness, Daniel. One hears from time to time that a pretty maidservant has gone missing and wonders if the poor creature has been spirited off to a whorehouse—but the daughters of gentlefolk…’

‘Young, innocent and virgin,’ Daniel told his friend grimly. ‘If men will pay for such things, there are those that will supply it—even to the extent of sending the girls abroad to eastern potentates.’

‘No!’ John looked sick. ‘Do you think…?’

‘I surmise nothing,’ Daniel told him. ‘I am determined to find proof somehow—and believe me, I shall one of these days. Sir Montague is being watched day and night. Wherever he goes, one of my spies follows. If he makes a wrong move, we shall have proof this time.’

‘Sir Montague has an evil temper,’ John said, his forehead creasing. ‘Be careful, my friend. If he is what we believe him, and suspects that you are investigating his affairs, he would not hesitate to have you killed.’

‘I am aware that he is dangerous,’ Daniel said. ‘Some think him just an opportunist, and feel no pity for the flats he fleeces—but I believe there is much more to him. I have wondered if perhaps Sir Edwin stumbled on something he should not have seen.’

‘You think that he may have been drugged, forced into making that wager somehow? But why? I do not see how…’

‘He may have been forced to drink too much—or take some foul drug. Where the wager comes in I do not know, unless Sir Montague saw some profit in it for himself. And if he wished to dispose of Sir Edwin—what better way to cover murder than to ruin him in public and make it seem that he had taken his own life in a fit of despair? But that is mere speculation and I keep an open mind,’ Daniel said. ‘But you said he looked strange when he saw Miss Travers—did he say anything?’

‘Only that the fool had it coming,’ John said. ‘And that his daughter might think herself lucky…’ He frowned. ‘Do you think he meant some harm to her?’

‘It is possible, but we must not speculate too much for the moment. We must listen and watch, and when the time is right we shall act,’ Daniel said. ‘At least Miss Travers is safe enough with Lady Isadora—but I have vowed to help Charles Hunter find his sister, and to discover what I may about Forsythe’s affairs. What I need is proof.’

Daniel stared moodily into his tankard. He had hardly touched his ale; when he thought of the possible fate of Sarah Hunter, he was sick to his stomach with anger. She had been but a child, sweet and pretty and trusting. Several times he had been on the point of forcing a duel on Sir Montague, but he had fought his natural desire for revenge, knowing that one man alone could not be responsible if something evil was afoot. He must wait, watch and listen until the time was right.

Elizabeth rose early as was her usual habit, washed and dressed in a plain grey skirt and a pretty white blouse with a high neck, which she fastened with a gold brooch. She looked elegant despite the plainness of her dress, her hair swept back from her face into a knot in the nape of her neck.

She knew that the household would hardly be stirring, but she wanted to begin her duties. It was not likely that Lady Isadora would have need of her before eleven, for she did not come down until noon. That meant Elizabeth would have some free hours in the mornings, which she might spend in one of several ways. She could walk down to the church with flowers, tend the vases in the house—or begin work on the library.

She had decided to make a start in the library, for she thought it would be best to consult the gardeners before raiding the garden for flowers. She knew from experience that it was unwise to pick blooms without first consulting the man who tended them, who could often be fiercely protective of his flowerbeds.

As she went downstairs she met one of the maids, a young girl dusting in the hall, who looked startled when Elizabeth smiled at her and asked if she might borrow one of her feather dusters.

‘Have I missed summat, miss?’ the girl asked, looking puzzled.

‘Oh, no, I am sure you have not,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I am to work in the earl’s library and I wish to begin by dusting some of the books.’

‘Are you sure, miss? Only none of us is allowed to touch ’is lordship’s books.’

‘I promise you that I have permission,’ Elizabeth said, hiding her amusement as the girl reluctantly handed over one of her feather dusters. She made her way to the library, feeling a tingle of excitement as she entered the long room.

She looked round her with satisfaction, thinking about where she wished to make a start, for it would be best to plan her work rather than rush into it and find that she must begin again. Noticing that there was a shelf with rather fewer books on it than the others had, Elizabeth decided to investigate. It was at the far end of the room, and it was only as she reached the shelf that she realised that someone was lying on the sofa, which faced it. She halted, her heart catching as she saw it was the earl, and he looked as if he might have been drinking the previous evening. There was an empty decanter of brandy on a small wine table beside the sofa and his glass had fallen from his hand. He looked vulnerable, younger in his sleep, and, as she bent to retrieve his glass from the floor, he murmured a woman’s name and moaned as if in some distress. He opened his eyes and looked at her just as she was straightening up, his face on a level with hers.

‘Good God,’ he said in a voice of what she took to be revulsion. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Forgive me,’ Elizabeth said, embarrassed. ‘I did not know you were here, sir. I was about to make a start on dusting some of the books before putting them into order.’

The earl sat up, groaning as he felt the pain in his head. He remembered his foul mood on returning home the previous night, the frustration he had felt at being unable to get any nearer to finding Charles Hunter’s sister. He had foolishly started drinking brandy, and this was his just punishment.

‘I shall go,’ Elizabeth said as he gave her what she thought was a look of dislike. ‘I am sorry…’

‘Why? It is I who have reason to be sorry,’ Daniel said, uttering a muffled curse. ‘I had forgotten where I was as I woke. Please do not go. I thought myself in my bedchamber and it startled me when I saw you bending over me.’

‘Oh…’ Elizabeth was relieved—he had seemed so angry at seeing her. ‘I see. It was to retrieve the glass only, but…it would be rather startling had I come to your bedchamber at this hour, sir.’

Daniel caught the hint of mischief in her voice and looked at her sharply. Her eyes were bright with laughter and he realised that underneath her slightly prim manner lurked a wicked sense of humour.

‘Just a little,’ he said wryly, ‘but it has happened, Miss Travers. Let me assure you that you would not be the first, especially when I was in Spain with the army.’

‘I dare say you have been much plagued by eager ladies, sir?’

‘As it happens I have,’ Daniel growled, a little piqued by her manner. ‘You would not believe how often a young lady feels faint when I am near.’

‘If you look at them so severely, I should not be at all surprised, sir.’ Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled, and for the first time Daniel realised that she was something out of the ordinary.

‘You have a ready wit, Miss Travers,’ he acknowledged, ‘but you must excuse me if I do not respond in kind—I am not at my best this morning. I must go upstairs and make myself ready before Mama sees…’ He glanced at the beautiful gilt mantel clock. ‘Good grief! What are you doing up at this indecent hour?’

‘I always rise early,’ Elizabeth said. ‘And I thought it a good time to begin the task I have promised to undertake for you. I dare say Lady Isadora will not need me for some hours yet.’

‘I should think not.’ He pulled a face at her. ‘It is but ten minutes past the hour of seven. I like to rise early when I have not spent the night hours indulging in too much brandy—but I seldom leave the house before eight.’

Elizabeth laughed huskily. ‘Oh, dear, I am so sorry. It is a custom I formed when young. I used to ride with my brother before our governess was ready to begin the day’s lessons, and I fear the habit has stayed with me.’

Daniel nodded thoughtfully. ‘So you ride, then? I shall inspect my stables and discover if I have a suitable mount for you.’

‘Oh, no, that is too kind,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I have not often ridden since Papa…Our horses were deemed part of the estate, you see, and Lord Wentworth had nothing in his stable that I cared to ride…’

‘Not a good judge of horseflesh?’ Elizabeth shook her head and he gave a snort of laughter. ‘I shall be on my mettle, shan’t I?’

‘Oh, I did not mean…’ She looked flustered and his eyes gleamed in triumph for she had lost her air of unconscious command, which, with a head that felt as if it contained a thousand working hammers, he had found daunting. Now he was back in charge, which was his usual status with ladies.

‘No, of course not. Nevertheless, I shall expect you to ride with me tomorrow morning at eight, Miss Travers. You will not refuse me, otherwise I shall know that you think my cattle not worthy of your skill.’

‘I think you like to mock me, sir.’ Elizabeth gave him a reproving look.

‘My mother says I suffer from an excess of levity,’ Daniel said, though the gleam faded to be replaced by a disturbing expression that sent a little chill down her spine. ‘But this is a cruel world, Miss Travers. If a man may not find something to make him laugh sometimes, it would hardly bear the living.’

He nodded to her and walked from the room, leaving her to stare after him and wonder what had brought that look of near despair to his eyes.

It seemed to her that the Earl of Cavendish was a man of many parts, and she was not sure which was the real man.

Chapter Three

After two hours of uninterrupted work, during which she had become rather dirty, Elizabeth went back to her room to change her clothes. She ought to have worn an apron, and would do so in future, she decided, for many of the books had not been touched for years. She had begun on the shelf that had only a few books and was pleased to discover that they were estate journals, which Lord Cavendish had obviously placed there himself in an effort to make his work easier. She had cleaned them carefully and then put them back on the shelf at the bottom—she thought it might be best to have the older volumes at the top and work downwards. It would then be quite simple to reach up for something when some research into the past was needed. She was pleased with her efforts, though as yet she had not attempted to begin the cataloguing. She would get the estate journals into good order first, before she began on the larger project.

She had just finished changing her clothes when a tap came at the door. She answered it to discover an elderly woman, whom she believed to be Lady Isadora’s personal maid.

‘Miss Travers,’ the woman said. ‘Her ladyship asks if you would be kind enough to visit her in her room this morning.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Am I right in thinking it is the room at the far end of the landing?’

‘Yes, miss, that’s right,’ the woman smiled at her. ‘I am Jean Phipps, and I’ve been with her ladyship since before she was married.’

‘Then you must know her very well,’ Elizabeth said. ‘May I come to you if there is anything I need to know concerning Lady Isadora’s preferences?’

‘Yes, miss, of course. I shall be only too pleased to help you if I can—but her ladyship is well looked after. It is young company she needs, if you ask me. It would have been Miss Jane’s eighteenth birthday this year and she has been brooding over it. With Miss Melanie being mistress of her own home, and a mother herself, it has left her ladyship at a loss.’

‘Yes, I can understand that,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Well, I am here now and I shall endeavour to take her mind from her unhappy thoughts.’

‘Oh, she seemed much more cheerful this morning,’ Jean Phipps said. ‘I do not doubt that she will throw off the megrims now that you are here and start to entertain once more.’

Elizabeth nodded to her. They had walked together to Lady Isadora’s rooms, and Miss Phipps indicated that she should go in, which she did, though her companion turned away. As she went into the little sitting room, her ladyship called to her to come through to the room directly behind it. She was sitting at an elegant little desk in her boudoir, a pen in her hand. She rested it on an exquisite French boulle tray, which was made with patterns of intricate silver and gold inlaid into tortoise-shell, and smiled at Elizabeth.

‘I trust it is not too early for you, my dear?’

‘Oh, no, I have been working in the library,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I have made a start with the estate records, which should help Lord Cavendish to find what he needs more easily.’

‘You have been working?’ Lady Isadora looked surprised and then slightly put out. ‘My son is a slave driver. I did not ask you to come here to work yourself to death, Elizabeth dearest.’

‘No, no, I shall not,’ Elizabeth told her with a smile. ‘You must know that I have been accustomed to being busy, and I enjoyed myself. Books are so fascinating, are they not?’

‘Are they?’ Lady Isadora looked so doubtful that Elizabeth laughed.

‘Yes, I assure you that they are for me—and you have such a treasure house here at Cavendish.’

‘Do we?’ Lady Isadora wrinkled her brow. ‘I know Cavendish spent a lot of time visiting sales of old books and was quite excited when he found something special, but it was not an interest we shared—though I believe Daniel has similar tastes.’ She nodded her head. ‘Well, I shall not stop you if it pleases you, Elizabeth—as long as you do not tire yourself.’

‘I shall not, ma’am, and I shall not desert you for the task. It is my habit to rise early and I may easily spend an hour or so in the library in the mornings before breakfast—though Lord Cavendish has asked me to ride with him tomorrow at eight.’

‘The fresh air and exercise will be good for you,’ Lady Isadora said, looking pleased. ‘Now, my dear, do you think you could find your way to the vicarage? I should like you to take a note for me. I wish to ask the Reverend Bell to dine with us tomorrow evening. I can send one of the servants, of course, but I thought you might like to become acquainted with the vicar and perhaps discuss the flowers for the church.’

‘Yes, I should very much like to do that,’ Elizabeth said, ‘but is there anything I may do for you before I go?’

‘Oh, no, I shall not come down for another two hours or so,’ Lady Isadora said, waving her hand vaguely. ‘Please feel free to consider the mornings your own, Elizabeth.’

Elizabeth thanked her, for it was much as she had expected. She took the note Lady Isadora had given her and went out. As she walked along the landing she met Amy, who told her that she had taken a pot of tea and some bread, butter and honey to her room.

‘I wasn’t sure if you would want breakfast downstairs, miss. Her ladyship has just a pot of chocolate and some biscuits in bed at about half past nine…’

‘As you have no doubt discovered, I am always up much earlier. But I do not wish to cause more work for the household—something in my room at about this time would be agreeable, unless you are setting the breakfast room for his lordship? I could just as easily take mine downstairs.’

‘Yes, miss. While his lordship is here we set breakfast at about nine o’clock, when he comes in from his ride.’

‘Then shall we say that I will breakfast downstairs when there are guests or his lordship is in residence, and in my room at other times?’

‘Yes, miss.’ Amy looked pleased. ‘That’s thoughtful of you, though it would be no trouble to do whatever you want.’

‘I shall have my breakfast before I leave,’ Elizabeth said. ‘But then I intend to walk to the vicarage—could you tell me the easiest way to get there?’

‘Yes, of course, miss. It is close to the church, and that is just across the meadow behind the house. That’s the quickest way when it’s dry as it is now. Though in the winter it is best to follow the road to the village, but that is the long way round and you would do better to go in the carriage.’

Elizabeth thanked her. They parted and she went to her room, drinking a cup of tea and eating two of the delicious freshly baked soft rolls with butter and honey.

Within half an hour she was wearing her pelisse and bonnet and heading for the meadow, which was at the back of the house. It was a pleasant morning, the sun peeping out from behind a few fluffy clouds, and the grass perfectly dry beneath her sensible black boots. She could hear a lark singing and looked up to see it perched in the branches of an oak tree at the edge of the meadow. She had a feeling of content, of being at home, for she had often performed such chores for her mother, and it was almost as if the grief of the past months had never been.

As she reached the church, she saw a tall, thin, black-gowned man leaving, and guessed that he was probably the person she had come to see. He was wearing a flat, wide-brimmed hat, which he doffed as she addressed him, to reveal hair that was sandy red.

‘Reverend Bell?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘I have come from Lady Isadora with a note.’

‘Ah, yes,’ he said holding his hat to his breast. He had serious grey eyes and a gentle face. ‘You will be Miss Travers, I make no doubt. Her ladyship has spoken of you to me. I am pleased to meet you.’ He put his hat back on and offered to shake hands with her, a faint colour in his cheeks. ‘It was good of you to walk all the way down here.’

‘It is not so very far. At home the church was much further from the house, but I often walked there on fine days,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Besides, I wanted to meet you, sir. Lady Isadora tells me you are in need of flowers for the church.’

‘I should be grateful if we could have some for next Sunday,’ he said. ‘We are having a special service for one of my oldest parishioners who has lately recovered from a severe illness, and it is a service of thanksgiving, you see. I like to see flowers in the church as often as it can be managed and sometimes one of my parishioners will bring a few—but I should like more. And then we are to have a flower festival next month, and I was hoping that Lady Isadora would contribute substantially. We shall attract visitors if there is a good display and it raises money for good causes—as do the fêtes and bazaars we hold several times a year.’

‘Yes, I see,’ Elizabeth said. He was clearly very dedicated to his parish and to the good causes he supported. ‘Well, now that I am here, I shall be pleased to help you in any way I can. I shall certainly ask the gardeners about a supply of flowers for the church, though I must be ruled by what they can spare, of course—but when it comes to the bazaars, I shall help as often as I may. I have some free time in the mornings.’

‘If you are sincere in wishing to be of help I should be most grateful,’ he told her. ‘We have various stalls and any contributions are welcome, either your own work—or items from the attics at Cavendish that are no longer required. And on the day, if you could be spared to help on one of the stalls, it would be much appreciated.’

‘Well, we shall see,’ Elizabeth told him. ‘I cannot say what might be spared from the attics, but I shall certainly tell Lady Isadora of your needs.’ She smiled at him, little knowing the effect she was having on a man still only in his middle twenties who had been lonely for the past several months. ‘And may I tell her that you will give us your company tomorrow evening? I believe there are some others invited.’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said, beaming at her. ‘I should not dream of refusing her ladyship. Besides, there is always a good dinner to be had at Cavendish; though one should not consider such things, it makes a pleasant change.’

Elizabeth guessed that he was not used to fine cooking in his present circumstances, and felt some sympathy for him. A young man in his situation needed a wife, and he had been unlucky to lose his so early in his marriage, and the child too.

‘Oh, I believe well-prepared food is something we may all hope for,’ she said. ‘Though I suppose when you think of the starving we should not grumble if we are fed sufficient.’

‘You speak very truly, Miss Travers. It is a delight to me to hear a young lady of quality speak so thoughtfully, for so many think only of their own pleasures. Not that I wish to judge them, of course—but sometimes one sees such frivolity…’ He shook his head. ‘One would not wish to deny others pleasure—but there are so many in need, you see.’

‘Yes, of course, I do see,’ Elizabeth told him. ‘I believe in helping others less fortunate than ourselves—but surely we all deserve a little pleasure in our lives, sir?’

‘You are right to censure me,’ Reverend Bell said. ‘I should not be critical of others because they have so much—but I cannot always help myself when I know of the great need in the world.’

‘But you want to do too much,’ Elizabeth told him with a gentle smile. ‘Do you not think that we must be satisfied to do what good we can? You are only one man and the cares of your parish are heavy enough. You cannot right the wrongs of the world. Only God may do that, I think.’

‘How well you understand me,’ he said, struck by her words. ‘You are very right, I do take too much upon myself at times. I must learn humility, Miss Travers.’

‘I think you are very well as you are, sir,’ she said, for she liked him. His earnest desire to help others, and his willingness to listen, were traits that must be admired in any man. ‘It is good to strive in the cause of others, but we must accept our limitations and not despair that we cannot cure all ills. Do you not agree?’

‘Yes, indeed. What a sensible, caring young lady you are,’ he said approvingly. ‘I am glad to have had this opportunity to talk to you, Miss Travers, and I shall look forward to furthering our acquaintance.’

‘As I shall,’ Elizabeth assured him. ‘And now I must go—it will soon be time for nuncheon and I must not keep Lady Isadora waiting.’

‘No, no, of course not. Good day to you, Miss Travers. I shall see you tomorrow evening, I hope?’

‘Yes, certainly,’ Elizabeth said. ‘It will be an opportunity for me to meet others of Lady Isadora’s friends.’

She took her leave of him, setting off across the meadow at a good pace. As she did so, she saw a young lady heading towards the church and heard her call to the reverend, but she did not look back for the time was slipping away and she did not wish to be late for nuncheon.

Lady Isadora came down for nuncheon, which was served at some twenty minutes past the hour of noon. It was a light meal of cold meat, thin bread and butter and some pickles, followed if one wished for it by a lemon-flavoured custard. However, the earl, who had gone out on estate business and was not expected to return until the evening, did not join them.

After lunch they repaired to the small parlour at the back of the house. From its long windows there was a pleasant view of the gardens, and beyond them the meadow and the church spire in the distance.

‘Now we can be comfortable,’ Lady Isadora said, smiling at her. ‘Shall we do a little embroidery, I wonder? Or shall you read to me while I stitch?’

‘Have you your embroidery with you, ma’am?’

‘It is in that worktable. Pull out the compartment at the bottom and you will discover a hanging I have been working on for the church. At least, I began it, but I must confess that Miss Ridley—Helen—has done most of it for me. But do pull it out, Elizabeth dear, and let us see what remains to be done.’

Elizabeth did as she was bid, and discovered that Lady Isadora and her former companion had been working on what was clearly intended to be an altar cloth. It was an ambitious project and the work was very fine, but it would need an ambitious needlewoman to complete such a task.

‘It is rather lovely,’ Elizabeth said. ‘The silks are a little tangled, but I can soon sort them for you—though it would be done sooner if we worked on it together.’

‘I do not think I care to embroider today,’ Lady Isadora decided. ‘What have you brought to read this afternoon?’

‘I have here a book of poems, Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew—or Fanny Burney’s novel…’

‘I enjoyed Mrs Burney’s Evelina, but I do not care for some of her later work. I think I should enjoy a little of Shakespeare’s play,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘If you could bear to read that?’

‘It is most amusing,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘I love the struggle between Petruccio and Kate.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Lady Isadora said and lay back against the silken cushions on her sofa. ‘Please begin when you feel ready, my dear.’

Elizabeth opened the book and began to read. She had a pleasant voice, and put expression into her reading. In actual fact she acted out each part, and after a few minutes Lady Isadora sat up, laughing, her face animated and eager.

‘Oh, my dear!’ she exclaimed. ‘I declare it is the equal of being at the theatre to hear you. Helen only read the words, but you put so much expression into them. But I am interrupting you. Please do continue. I had forgotten how wonderful it was to hear William Shakespeare’s words spoken with feeling.’

Elizabeth continued to read for almost an hour, after which Lady Isadora rang for tea, for as she said Elizabeth’s throat must be dry.

‘It has been such a joy to me,’ she told her young companion. ‘I shall look forward to continuing tomorrow—but I must not tire you. Now we shall relax and talk, my dear. Tell me, what did you think of the Reverend Bell?’

‘He seems both pleasant and dedicated to his calling,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I liked him—and I have promised to help where I can. I felt a little sad for him, knowing that he had lost his wife and child. A man in his position needs a wife—do you not think so?’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Lady Isadora said, frowning a little. ‘I think Miss Giles might like to fill that position, though perhaps she is a little too silly for his taste.’

‘Miss Giles?’

‘You will meet Julia tomorrow evening. Her parents are neighbours—Sir Henry and Lady Giles. They have an estate no more than six miles to the south of Cavendish. They are, in fact, our nearest neighbours.’

‘I see,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Their estate cannot then be far from the village?’

‘No, it is not more than three miles, I dare say. Why do you ask, my dear?’

‘Oh, merely curiosity,’ Elizabeth told her. ‘Do you see the family often?’

‘Lady Giles calls now and then, but she prefers London or Bath to the country. They are planning on a Season for Julia this year…’

‘I see,’ Elizabeth said. ‘No doubt Miss Giles is looking forward to the trip.’

‘Yes, I expect so. I find London too tiring myself, but I shall enjoy a few weeks at Brighton in the summer—and of course we may go to Bath in the autumn.’

‘I am sure the sea air will do you good, ma’am,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I have never—’

What she was about to say was lost, for through the French windows she saw a sight that put everything else from her mind. Two men were walking across the lawns towards the parlour, one supporting the other, their footsteps uneven and awkward. Jumping to her feet, Elizabeth went to open the French door, for she could see that something was wrong. One of them was either hurt or ill and she sensed that help was imperative.

‘Miss Travers,’ the earl called to her. ‘Thank you for seeing our need. I fear that Mr Elworthy has been shot through the shoulder. I think the wound is not serious, but we must get him to bed and the doctor must attend him immediately.’

‘What is wrong?’ Lady Isadora had followed Elizabeth out to the terrace, and now gave a cry of alarm. ‘Daniel—what happened? You haven’t done anything foolish, I hope?’

‘John was shot at from behind as he rode here to visit me,’ Daniel said. ‘I dare say it was a careless poacher. Fortunately, I returned sooner than I had planned and discovered him lying in the road. He has lost a lot of blood and is barely conscious.’

‘Please ring for the servants, ma’am,’ Elizabeth said to Lady Isadora. She went to the other side of Mr Elworthy and put her arm about his waist, taking some of the weight on to herself and earning a surprised look of gratitude from the earl. ‘Come, sir. We must get you upstairs as easily as we can for your wound has bled and needs attention.’ Glancing over her shoulder at her employer, she added, ‘Please send Amy up to me with linen and salves, for this wound must be bound until the doctor arrives.’

‘Yes…of course.’ Lady Isadora rang the bell hastily. Elizabeth had an unconscious air of command about her, seeming to be completely in control of the situation, whereas she felt that she might faint if Mr Elworthy continued to drip blood on to her parlour floor. ‘Please, do whatever you feel necessary, my dear.’

Elizabeth did not respond. She was concentrating all her efforts on assisting the earl to get Mr Elworthy into the hall, where she saw a young, broad-shouldered footman lingering. He looked at them uncertainly.

‘Please,’ she said. ‘You have more strength than I, sir—help his lordship carry Mr Elworthy up the stairs. I shall go ahead and prepare the bed.’ She passed her share of the burden to the young man and ran on ahead. At the top of the stairs she met the housekeeper about to come down, and asked which bedchamber was available for an invalid.

‘This way, Miss Travers. The room has been cleaned only this morning, and is suitable for a gentleman,’ the woman replied, understanding the problem immediately.

Elizabeth followed her inside the guest bedchamber and together they pulled back the covers so that when the gentlemen entered—the strong, young footman now carrying Mr Elworthy in his arms—they were able to lay him straight onto the clean linen. The injured man gave a sigh and his eyelids fluttered open for a moment, his eyes looking into hers.

Elizabeth bent over him, stroking back a lock of hair from his sweating brow. ‘You are safe now, sir,’ she told him in a gentle voice. ‘I shall bind your wound for you and then you will feel easier until the doctor comes.’ She turned as Amy came in, carrying some linen and salves, followed by another young girl bearing a jug of water. ‘Ah, good,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Did either of you think to bring some scissors?’

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