The Officer and the Lady. Dorothy Elbury
shocked at her cousin’s outrageous behaviour, Imogen was about to remonstrate with the girl when she felt Miss Widdecombe’s hand gently squeezing her knee beneath the table. She hesitated, not entirely sure what the governess intended.
‘Poor dear Jessica misses her little treats,’ interposed the governess, nodding in Beresford’s direction. ‘It has all been rather difficult for her to understand. A young lady of her age, as you must be aware, should really be concerning herself with assemblies and balls and other such entertainments as her contemporaries enjoy.’ Smiling at him in, what seemed to Beresford, an almost conspiratorial manner, she went on, ‘Still, we have no doubt at all that, now that you are here, you will be more than happy to take charge of your new sister’s début, will you not, Mr Beresford?’
He cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid there are a good many matters to deal with before we can think of that sort of thing, Miss Widdecombe,’ he managed, sensing rather than seeing the pout of disappointment that appeared on Jessica’s face. ‘But I have no doubt that something can be arranged for next year.’
Privately, he was determined to have dealt with all the problems with which he was presently beset well before spring came round. David Seymour, however, seemed to have other ideas.
‘Now, please do not fret yourself, Miss Beresford!’ he cajoled, crinkling up his merry eyes at her woebegone expression. ‘You have my word that there is very little going on in London at this time of year—most of the celebrations are over and nobody of note stays in the capital during the warmer months. However, I am quite certain that there must be local entertainments not too far afield that you may be allowed to attend—even before you are fully “out”. Is that not so, Miss Priestley?’
He looked questioningly at Imogen, who felt obliged to smile and nod her head, although she too was planning her imminent escape from Thornfield.
‘There you are then!’ exclaimed Seymour, leaning back in his chair in satisfaction. ‘You see, Miss Beresford! You have an excellent chaperon in your cousin and I, myself, would deem it a great honour if you would allow me to act as your escort to any local rout or assembly.’
Jessica’s face immediately lit up and she began fluttering her lashes at Seymour in what seemed to Beresford to be the most irritatingly obvious manner.
‘I should think that Miss Priestley is rather too young to be placed in a role of such responsibility, David,’ he remarked drily, glancing across the table to Imogen.
A soft blush appeared on her cheeks. ‘I believe I am perfectly capable of ensuring that my cousin conducts herself as she should in any public gathering, Mr Beresford,’ she said, defensively.
‘You have a good deal of experience in these matters then, I take it?’
She was momentarily confused as she registered the unmistakable trace of sarcasm in his voice.
‘I was often wont to attend the local assemblies when my uncle was alive,’ she replied, unable to tear her eyes away from his intent gaze. ‘You may be surprised to learn that I am not quite as green as you apparently take me to be, sir.’
His deep laugh rang out across the room as he rose and pushed back his chair.
‘Clearly not, Miss Priestley! However, if you will excuse me, I believe I shall leave the matter of Jessica’s launch into society until some other time. There are other, more pressing matters to deal with today. Where do you suppose I might find Mr Wentworth?’
At this, Nicholas got to his feet. ‘I can take you to him, if you like,’ he offered shyly. ‘He is normally in the office at this time of day. We can go through from the hall—if the door isn’t locked.’
Beresford was puzzled. ‘Why should the door be locked on the house side?’ he asked the boy.
Nicholas flushed. ‘It always is these days, sir. Wentworth does not care for any of us poking about in there—not that I would ever do so,’ he added quickly. ‘I am pretty useless when it comes to stuff like corn yields and livestock sales—Father always used to get rather angry with me over my lack of understanding of estate matters.’
‘It will all be yours one day, Nicholas,’ Beresford reminded him. ‘I would not like you to think that I have come here to steal your inheritance from you. I merely want to sort out the most urgent problems as quickly as possible and leave you to it.’
A look of alarm appeared in the boy’s eyes. ‘Oh, I wish you would not, sir! I really do not wish to keep the property—and nor does Mama—apart from her jointure, of course. I, myself, will be perfectly content with the allowance he left me.’
Frowning, Beresford regarded his brother intently. ‘You are not interested in taking over Thornfield when you come of age?’
Nicholas shook his head vehemently. ‘Never! I was as glad as I could be when I heard that you were to succeed. I intend to go into the Church—it is what I have always wanted. And, if you do not intend to stay, I shall sell the place as soon as I am able!’
A breathless silence filled the room as Beresford, in perplexed dismay, struggled to come to terms with this new and unexpected development.
Seymour got to his feet. ‘The estate still has to be put back to rights, old chap,’ he pointed out. ‘Whether it is to be kept or sold makes very little difference at this stage. The debts have to be cleared and, judging by what I could see from the lane as we passed, there are at least two fields well past their best for cutting. You simply cannot pull out now, Matt.’
Beresford’s face darkened. ‘I had not intended to,’ he said shortly. ‘But this does pose an entirely different problem.’
‘I am awfully sorry, sir.’ Nicholas’s voice was shaking. ‘I had not meant to cause you any more worry.’
Imogen rose and came to her cousin’s side. ‘It is probably just as well that Mr Beresford knows your intentions, Nicky,’ she said firmly. ‘There are certain aspects of your father’s temperament of which he cannot possibly be aware.’
‘I believe I had the pleasure of discovering several of Sir Matthew’s delightful idiosyncrasies some years ago,’ was Beresford’s terse rejoinder.
She coloured. ‘Yes, of course. I do beg your pardon.’
He suddenly found himself musing over the extraordinary colour of her eyes. One minute they were a bright, clear grey and then, before you knew where you were, they had changed to the colour of a thundercloud! And that, he noted, was when those fascinating little sparks of silver were at their most obvious. A useful warning sign for future reference, he thought, turning away with an appreciative grin.
Somewhat flustered over his intense examination of her features, Imogen’s thoughts became erratic, her pulse began to race and she found herself obliged to sit down quickly. At first, the idea that Beresford might find her amusing filled her with a cold fury and yet—there had been something else in his penetrating gaze, she could swear—something she could not identify. And, whatever that something was, it had caused her to experience a momentary flutter of a feeling somewhat akin to panic!
Chapter Five
B eresford followed Nicholas out of the room and into the hall, from where the boy led him down a side passage and indicated a doorway at the end.
‘This is the office,’ he said, trying the handle. To his surprise, the door appeared not to be locked. ‘I suppose Wentworth must have known you were bound to want to look around,’ he grinned, as he pushed it open.
It seemed that Wentworth had indeed been expecting them, for he was sitting at the big mahogany desk leafing through a pile of papers. He stood up as they entered and held out his hand.
‘Mr Beresford,’ he said, his voice fawningly apologetic. ‘So sorry we got off on the wrong foot this morning, sir—I thought you were an interloper at first—a natural mistake in the circumstances, as I feel sure you’ll agree.’