Lady Controversial: Regency Ladies Vol 4 Read online

  ‘The state of the roads is quite shocking, Ellery,’ she said, making it sound as though the responsibility for the highways’ maintenance rested on his shoulders. ‘Really, something should be done about it. We have been jolted about in a quite appalling manner and I am absolutely sure that I shall be bruised black and blue, and that will likely bring on another rash.’

  ‘I am sorry if you’ve been made uncomfortable, Mother,’ Ellery replied, winking at Jemima, well aware that his carriage was the last word in luxury. Well sprung and conveyed by four high-steppers, it would be impossible for anyone to travel in more comfort.

  ‘I did suggest your remaining in town to save yourself the inconvenience of a journey you detest,’ he continued. Having dismounted and handed his stallion to the groom who came running to take its reins, he offered his arm to his mother. She leaned heavily on it and appeared to have developed a limp since leaving London. Aware that she was as strong as an ox and likely to outlive them all, Ellery refrained from remarking upon her latest infirmity.

  ‘I hope I know my duty,’ his mother replied. ‘You gentlemen will be shooting and I shall entertain the ladies. You would be hard pressed to manage the arrangements without me. Don’t worry about my inconvenience.’

  ‘If you insist, Mother, I shall not give it another thought.’

  ‘Really, Ellery, must we mix with the hoi polloi?’ Lady Finchdean twitched her nose when she entered the cramped inn, where the smell of damp bodies and smoking fires clearly met with parental disapproval. ‘Is a private parlour not available? I cannot help wondering why you did not arrange one for our comfort, indeed I cannot. This is intolerable and I am bound to catch something or other from these…these people.’ She swung an arm in a wide arch, narrowly avoiding clumping a fellow traveller with her reticule in which she carried a whole range of medicines that made the bag heavy enough to have knocked the man unconscious had it made contact with his head. For all her supposed frailty, Ellery’s mother was a large woman who packed a formidable punch.

  ‘Have a care, mother,’ Ellery said, nodding an apology to the offended man.

  ‘I am not the one at fault,’ she replied indignantly, putting up her chin. ‘That oaf should have cleared a path for me.’

  Ellery managed to find a vacant corner table in the area adjoining the taproom, at which he installed his mother and sisters. Lady Finchdean continued to criticise everything, seldom pausing to allow anyone other than Sally to join in. Sally could always be depended upon to support their mother’s opinions and was turning into her mirror image. Ellery had little respect for her weak-willed husband and wondered how he tolerated Sally’s constant criticisms. He should have nipped her tendencies in the bud at the start of their marriage, Ellery knew, or he would lose control of his wife, much as Ellery’s own respected father had lost control of his. But George was far too easy-going to rein Sally in, and anyway, it was hardly the sort of advice that Ellery could dole out without causing offence.

  Mercifully, priority had been given to changing the team conveying his chaise, and his party would negotiate the final leg of the journey with their own horses between the shafts. With the ladies reinstalled in the carriage, Ellery swung into Legacy’s saddle. He had ridden his spirited grey all the way from London and he still seemed as fresh and eager to stretch his legs as he had been at the start of the journey. He was a new acquisition and Ellery was so far delighted with him.

  Ellery’s spirits lifted even more when the tall chimneys of Finchdean Hall came into sight. He spurred Legacy forward and galloped up the long driveway, gravel flying from Legacy’s hooves as he ate up the ground, putting in the occasional buck for good measure. Ellery drew rein in front of the house and stared up at the ivy-clad façade, drinking in the sight of the house he adored. Memories of his childhood, romping in the grounds and generally causing mayhem flooded his mind. The sight temporarily chased away his dire mood, brought on by George Fox’s remark about Brooke and the accusations he had made.

  Accusations that Ellery had yet to decide how to handle.

  He left the servants to help the ladies alight and walked into the house, where he was greeted by his man, Lawson.

  ‘Welcome home, my lord.’

  ‘Thanks, Lawson,’ Ellery replied. Lawson had only left London a day ahead of Ellery, but Ellery could tell the moment he entered his library that his efficient right-hand man had everything under control. ‘Any news for me regarding that damned cottage?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. There is a Rose Cottage on the edge of the village. It had been vacant for some considerable time.’

  Ellery breathed more easily. ‘Is it part of this estate? Can’t say that I’ve come across the name.’

  ‘No, my lord. It’s privately owned and poorly maintained.’

  ‘Derelict and uninhabited, you say?’ Ellery’s relief was palpable. ‘In that case Brooke is talking out of his backside. I thought as much.’

  ‘I said it had been vacant, my lord. What I should have made clear is that it was recently reoccupied.’

  Ellery, who had been flicking through his correspondence, jerked his head round. ‘Who has taken it?’ he asked.

  ‘A family by the name of Crawley, I am given to understand. One assumes they are the same Crawleys that Brooke referred to.’

  ‘One does indeed.’ Ellery’s spirits plummeted as quickly as they had risen. ‘Damn,’ he muttered.

  Chapter Two

  Isolda tried but failed to ignore the gossip in the village and especially in the cottage regarding the earl’s return. Isolda had absolutely no idea where Jane garnered her information from, nor could she be bothered to enquire. Every bone in her body ached as a result of the manual labour she had been obliged to undertake in an effort to preserve their dwindling funds, both in the grounds and in the cottage itself. It was half derelict, the parlour uninhabitable due to a large hole in the thatch, and if they were to live there indefinitely then the rot would have to be stopped.

  Quite literally.

  ‘Well, miss, I’m reckoning it could be saved.’ Mr Bruton, a man from the village who claimed to work wonders with property defects of any nature and was reputed to be cheap and reliable, stared up at the hole in question and tutted. ‘Of course, them struts are rotted through and will have to be replaced. Ain’t no help for it,’ he tutted again. ‘Tricky things, struts.’

  Isolda agreed that they very likely were, thinking that perhaps she ought to have worn a gown rather than her customary breeches. It was obvious that Mr Bruton was highly offended by her unconventional attire and didn’t know quite what to make of her. Word would spread through the village by nightfall, and highly exaggerated reasons for her preferences would likely be reached in the taproom at the George and Dragon. For herself she didn’t much care, but since she had invested so much of their wealth into Jane’s future, she decided that she really ought to make more of an effort to preserve her sister’s reputation. ‘How soon can the work be carried out and how much will it cost?’

  ‘Well now...’ That question required further pondering and a great deal of chin rubbing. ‘I’m reckoning we could make a start next week. Course, iffing Mrs Arnold needs her henhouse fixed up then it could delay matters.’

  Isolda wondered how long it might take to fix a henhouse but refrained from asking. Every question she put to Mr Bruton evinced a convoluted explanation. She hoped fervently that he worked faster than he talked. But since he was the cheapest man available, she had no choice but to prevail upon his as yet unproven services.

  They agreed upon a price that made Isolda blink but which she assumed had to be reasonable. She offered the man her hand in order to seal their bargain. He stared at it, looked highly affronted and took it briefly and reluctantly in his own, barely making contact with her fingers. The moment he released it, he wiped his palm down the side of his breeches. Isolda chose to be amused rather than offended. Shaking hands with a woman clearly offended Mr Bruton’s dignity.

  Consoling
herself with the thought that once the roof was repaired they would have access to much needed space, Isolda set about the most urgent matters on her never ending to-do list. By mid-morning she had done all that she could accomplish without help and asked Mrs Compton if there was anything she could do to be of assistance to her. She was all too aware that Mrs Compton bore a heavy load on her shoulders and was no longer in the first flush of youth. She would likely be grateful for a helping hand.

  ‘Bless you, love, I can cope in the kitchen but still, if you feel the need for some fresh air there are some things I need from the village.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  Isolda made a list. ‘Any sign of Jane?’ she asked, more in hope than expectation. After all, it was still only eleven in the morning.

  Mrs Compton rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to respond.

  ‘Well, when she does deign to put in an appearance, make sure she helps Gladys with the polishing. The roof will be mended next week and we shall be able to use that room, but it needs sweeping and dusting. Might as well start now and then there will be less to do once the roof is secured. The chimney will have to be swept as well. I poked a broom handle up it the other day and a bird’s nest tumbled down.’ Isolda gathered up her list and a basket. ‘Anyway, I shall harness Henry to the gig and drive into the village. It’s a lovely day and Henry needs the exercise. He will get impossibly fat if he keeps eating all that grass but does no work to earn his keep.’

  ‘You’re going like that?’

  Mrs Compton eyed Isolda’s breeches with scepticism. Ordinarily, she didn’t take much notice of Isolda’s unorthodox attire since she understood the reason for it despite lamenting the need. Isolda had lost count of the times that Mrs Compton had expressed her view, most forcibly, about Isolda’s father’s reckless gambling. Be that as it may, she clearly didn’t want word of her rebellious ways spreading through the village. It was a little late for that, Isolda thought, given that she had interviewed Mr Bruton dressed as she was now. She suspected that he would be a regular in The George’s taproom and would enjoy telling highly exaggerated tales about Isolda’s eccentricities.

  ‘Ah, good point.’

  Feeling like a chastised child, Isolda went to her room and changed into a divided skirt and a respectable blouse, over which she wore an enveloping cloak. She twisted her hair into a bun and concealed it beneath an ugly straw bonnet that just happened to be comfortable. She glanced dispassionately at her image in a long mirror and decided that she looked respectable enough to be unremarkable; easy to overlook in a crowd, which was just the way she preferred it. Unlike Jane, she wasn’t out to impress anyone.

  A short time later, with a lively and obliging Henry harnessed to an ancient gig with questionable suspension, Isolda slapped the reins against his ample rump and Henry moved off at what was, for him, a fast trot.

  Ellery leaned back in the chair behind what had once been his father’s monstrosity of a desk. He hated it. The desk was typical of the sort of status symbol he despised, and he vowed to change it for something more modern and with less unpleasant memories attaching to it just as soon as he could find the time.

  His father had possessed a short temper and lacked patience with both his sons—especially Ellery, who could never measure up to his expectations. He lost count of the number of times he had been obliged to bend over that desk while his father had whipped his backside for some minor transgression or other. As he grew older he often wondered if administering the chastisement aroused the old devil. Given his debauched behaviour, nothing would surprise Ellery.

  Sighing, Ellery returned his attention to the here and now, and more specifically to Lawson’s report.

  ‘I have spoken to the local Alderman, Griffiths, my lord. He is responsible for keeping the land records for the district, as you are aware, as well as the census.’

  ‘What could he tell you about Rose Cottage?’ Ellery asked, leaning back a little further and elevating his booted feet onto the edge of the hated desk. It amused him to imagine his father’s reaction to such reckless abuse.

  ‘It belonged to the late Lord Crawley, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Damn!’ Ellery took a moment to consider. ‘So Brooke might have a legitimate claim?’

  Lawson lifted a shoulder. ‘That I cannot say, sir. He certainly inherited Lord Crawley’s estate, which he won at the gaming tables.’

  ‘It wasn’t entailed?’

  ‘Apparently not.’

  ‘Damned fool. Crawley, that is.’

  ‘Quite. He left behind two daughters and it is they who now occupy Rose Cottage.’

  ‘Never had the pleasure, at least not as far as I can recall.’ Ellery flexed a quizzical brow. ‘Quite a come down for them, given that they are the daughters of a viscount. If the cottage is near derelict and they have chosen to live there, it implies that their situation must be desperate.’

  ‘Possibly, but it’s common knowledge in the village that the younger daughter is to be presented at the same time as Lady Jemima this season.’

  ‘Who is her sponsor?’

  ‘Her maternal aunt, Lady Bellingham.’

  Ellery rubbed his chin. ‘If she can afford to present the chit then surely she could also offer her nieces a roof over their heads. A roof that doesn’t leak, that is. Hardly seems fitting that two unmarried girls should live unchaperoned.’ Ellery paused. ‘I assume they are both unmarried.’

  ‘Indeed, but the older girl has past her majority.’

  ‘Even so…’

  ‘Word is that the younger sister is having her season’s clothing made locally, which does imply a shortage of funds.’

  ‘Curious.’ Ellery sat up, bored with a subject that occupied his mother’s mind to the exclusion of almost everything else insofar as Jemima’s coming-out was concerned. He returned his feet to the floor and sighed. ‘I had best go and make the ladies’ acquaintance and warn them about Brooke. We both know how badly he wants to get a toehold in the area and how conniving he can be. I wouldn’t put it past him to try and persuade the Misses Crawley that he inherited their cottage as part of their father’s gambling debt. With no male figure to look out for their interests, they might well be intimidated into quitting it.’

  Ellery stood up, wondering why he cared so much about the fate of two strangers. Perhaps because he disliked bullies in general and Brooke in particular, he decided. He had become distinctly uneasy ever since Brooke won Crawley Place from the old viscount. It was only ten miles from Finchdean Hall, which would give Brooke a legitimate reason to frequent the area, taunting Ellery with his undesirable presence. ‘Can we get a hold of a copy of Crawley’s vowels, Lawson? That will give us a better idea of what precisely Brooke is entitled to lay claim to.’

  ‘I will endeavour to do so, my lord.’

  ‘Good man.’

  Ellery almost whistled to his dog, only remembering at the last minute that a careless groom had let the young terrier escape while Ellery had been in London. He was furious, having developed a liking for the little tyke. Extensive searches failed to offer any sign of him. Ah well, he would ride to this Rose Cottage and whistle for Woody at the same time.

  ‘Ah, Ellery, there you are.’ Ellery’s heart plummeted when his mother sailed into the room with Sally at her side, no doubt ready to support whatever complaint Lady Finchdean had to make on this occasion. ‘You are needed at once. We are at a loss to know how best to allocate chambers to all the members of the shooting party, and since they are your friends…’

  Ellery flexed a brow, with no need to feign surprise. ‘You expect me to advise you?’

  ‘Well naturally. I should hate to put fellows who dislike one another in adjoining rooms.’

  Heaven forbid! ‘You imagine I would invite enemies to mingle at the same party?’

  ‘It has been known to happen,’ Sally said defensively.

  ‘You wanted to do this, Mother, and I don’t have time for such trivialities. I would as soon have left the arrangem
ents to our housekeeper, who is more than capable. However, if you attach that much importance to the matter, ask George,’ Ellery added, nodding to his sister. ‘Your husband knows all the people involved and has nothing better to do with his time, whereas I have a plethora of duties awaiting my attention.’

  ‘You might take an interest,’ his mother said, sniffing with disdain.

  ‘I might, if I did not have more important matters to occupy me.’ Ellery made his impatience plainly apparent. ‘Now, if there is nothing else then you really must excuse me. There is somewhere I have to be.’

  ‘You have not forgotten that the Teddingtons are dining with us tonight. You are acquainted with Miss Gloria Teddington, I believe. You danced with her once last season.’

  ‘I did?’

  Ellery blinked, having absolutely no recollection of the occasion, or of the lady herself, which told him all he needed to know about her desirability. If he had liked her he would remember her, especially as she was a near neighbour. His mother’s clumsy attempts at matchmaking were becoming tiresome. He had hoped to escape them, at least while he was here in the country, but she was clearly more determined than he’d given her credit for. She had certainly wasted no time in issuing invitations to their neighbours, despite the fact that she constantly complained about being fatigued. But not so fatigued that her threats to take to her bed ever materialised.

  ‘Of course you remember. You told me that you thought she was very pretty. Anyway, I trust you will be civil.’

  ‘When am I ever anything else?’

  ‘You gave Lady Ambridge the cut direct,’ Sally said, narrowing her eyes in a vindictive manner. ‘She was insulted.’

  Ellery had, it was true, but only because she had recently married, having failed to elicit a proposal from Ellery. The moment she returned from her wedding journey she renewed her attempts to woo Ellery, clearly intent upon sharing the marital bed with a man who was not her husband. Ellery had been disgusted and turned his back on her when she brazenly propositioned him.