An Improper Companion. Anne HerriesЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.