A Reason to Rebel Read online

  “Doing the creature a kindness by taking her in, you mean?”

  “Precisely. She is so soft-hearted that she can never help involving herself in other people’s misfortunes.” Alex shrugged in a gesture of defeat. “But it is of no consequence, since how do I go about locating distressed females of impeccable character? And even if I were to manage that, how would I persuade one of them to descend upon Crawley Hall? I should not know where to begin.”

  “I daresay it could be managed.”

  “Perhaps, but I do not see how.”

  “If you are seriously contemplating such a step, perhaps I could help.”

  “You.” Alex smiled. “Thank you, Michael, but you are no better qualified to bring it about than I am.”

  “No indeed, but I will discuss it with Susanna, if you like.”

  “By all means. But what could she hope to do about the matter?”

  Michael chuckled. “Trust me, Alex, if anyone can contrive such a scheme convincingly, it is she.”

  Chapter Three

  Estelle was exhausted when her father left but too overwrought to even contemplate resting. She retired to the small parlour instead. It was the only room in the house where she felt safe from the prying eyes of the servants.

  To her father’s suggestion that she marry Mr. Cowper she barely spared a thought since she did not have the slightest intention of going down that path. Just why Cowper was so important to him that he would try to force first Marianne and then her into marriage with him was not important. What did concern her was the fact that he had stopped searching for Marianne. She knew him to possess a cold, unforgiving nature but had not considered him capable of such blithe indifference to the fate of a defenceless young woman—his own daughter.

  Well, he might be prepared to abandon her without it troubling his conscience, but her love for her sister ran deep and she knew now what she would do with herself. Somehow she would discover what had become of Marianne. She would find her and rescue her from wherever she had fled to.

  And her first port of call would be her brother Matthew. The last time she had heard from him, over a year ago now, he had been in Jamaica, happy in his work as a bookkeeper on his friend’s plantation. But she did not know if he was still in Port Antonio or how he could help her if he was. What she did know was that he would not ignore her plea for help.

  Just the thought of seeing him again warmed her heart. She had written to him when Marianne went missing but in all likelihood that letter would not have reached him yet. If she wrote again now, that would take months to get there too.

  What to do in the meantime? Suddenly she was full of purpose, aware that every day lost whilst she sat idly about feeling sorry for herself could make the difference between life and death to Marianne.

  Susanna’s carriage must have passed her father’s in the driveway, so closely did her arrival follow his departure. The two friends embraced. Estelle was then obliged to endure Susanna’s close scrutiny and tuts of disapproval before they settled themselves in front of the fire.

  “Bring tea for us, if you please, Archer,” Estelle said to the ancient butler who was hovering by the door.

  “Now, tell me at once all that has happened,” said Susanna in her usual direct fashion. “My poor love, you ought to have let me know. I would have come at once.”

  Estelle managed a wan smile. “I hardly think that would have endeared me to Mr. Cleethorpe.”

  With the tea in front of them and the door closed against prying eyes and ears, Estelle, keeping her voice low, told her friend everything in a dull monotone.

  “Well, at least you are rid of that dreadful old man.”

  “Susanna!”

  “Don’t act so shocked, Estelle. You did not want to marry him, did not love him and he was not kind to you.”

  “Put like that, I suppose you are right. But it does seem rather shocking to be glad someone is dead. Whatever would Miss Frobisher have said?”

  They smiled, easily able to imagine their schoolmistress’s outrage at such an unseemly sentiment. Estelle discovered that laughter, something she had heard precious little of in this house even when her husband had been alive, helped ease the tension she had been enduring these three months. Susanna’s irreverent company was already aiding her recovery.

  “And then you lost your baby. I know how much you were looking forward to his birth. I am sorry for that, Estelle.”

  “I am reconciled to the loss.” Tears stung her eyes.

  “Now, tell me everything about Marianne.”

  “There is little to tell. She came to see me two weeks after your wedding and we argued. After that she disappeared.”

  “And I suppose you blame yourself.”

  “Who else is there to blame?” Estelle’s hand was unsteady as she poured the tea. “My sister came to me in a defiant mood but instead of sympathizing with her over her troubles, I told her to grow up and remember her duty.”

  “I doubt that you were so cruel. I know you too well to believe you capable of such heartless behaviour. Tell me exactly what happened.”

  “Well, she was very distressed about Papa insisting she marry Mr. Cowper. I could not help concurring with her sentiments but knew it would do her no good to balk at the suggestion.” Her cup rattled against the saucer as she replaced it with unnecessary force. “I tried to explain that to her. I told her she would have to go through with it and make the best of a bad situation, just as I had been obliged to do in respect of my union with Mr. Travis.” Estelle fumbled for her handkerchief and blew her nose. “I told her we had both always known we would have no say in the choice of our husbands. I also pointed out that at least Mr. Cowper was young and suggested she compare him to Mr. Travis before complaining too loudly.” She sighed. “But I might just as well have saved my breath. She flew into a rage and said I did not understand, that I always took Papa’s side and she did not know why she had expected anything else from me.”

  “Well, you did always side with your papa,” said Susanna gently. “Matthew is a charmer, one who paid lip service to your father’s dictates and then did precisely as he pleased. Marianne has independence of spirit, knows what she wants out of life and is not afraid to reach out for it, whereas you—”

  “Whereas I am the middle child. The one who is generally considered to be dutiful and sensible. The peacemaker. And that was what I was trying to do with Marianne that day, do you not see?”

  Susanna reached across and touched Estelle’s hand. “Do not be so hard on yourself, darling.”

  “I did not mean to overset her, but Marianne has always maintained unrealistic expectations. I knew she would have to do as Father wanted in the end; what choice did she have? And so there was little point antagonizing him and having to endure his brutal punishments if she refused to see reason. I wanted to save her from that,” Estelle whispered, a catch in her voice. “But I had no notion that by trying to make her see reason I would only succeed in driving her away.”

  “Where do you think she is gone to?”

  “I cannot say. I have not made enquires because, well because…” She indicated her emancipated body as her words trailed off.

  “But your father is looking for her.”

  “I thought he was.” In a low voice, always aware that the servants could be eavesdropping, she told Susanna of her father’s visit.

  “So that was his carriage I passed at the end of the drive. What a fiend to abandon his daughter so! I had not thought quite so badly of him. No matter,” said Susanna briskly. “We must find her without his help, that is all.”

  Tears of gratitude sprang to Estelle’s eyes. “I could not ask you to do that. You are newly married, you have responsibilities.”

  “Fiddlesticks, this is more important. Michael will understand.”

  “I did wonder if she had gone to Mr. Porter in Ramsgate.”

  “The young man articled to your husband’s solicitor?”

  “Yes, they met here when Mari
anne came to stay last year, and were much taken with one another. Marianne declared herself to be violently in love.”

  “Marianne has fancied herself in love on many occasions.” Susanna rolled her eyes. “However, it is a possibility, I suppose. Have you asked him if he has seen her?”

  “I wrote to him but he sent a formal reply saying he had not had the pleasure of seeing her. Just a few lines, very stiff, which told me nothing at all.”

  “That is hardly surprising if she does not wish to be found and if…”

  “If?”

  “Well, if they are living together but are not married. Do not forget that Marianne is not yet of age, so unless they eloped to Scotland there would be no other way for them. We must go to Ramsgate and confront this Mr. Porter in person. I feel sure that he did not tell you the entire truth in his letter.”

  “I cannot.”

  “What is to stop you?”

  “Well, there is more I did not tell you about my father’s visit. He expects me to return to Hampshire with him in a week’s time.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he says I cannot stay here when my husband’s son takes possession.”

  “Hmm, he is right about that, I suppose. And surely you would not want to be here with that cold fish and his shrew of a wife.”

  Estelle smiled at her friend’s apt description. “No, indeed, but I do not wish to return to Hampshire either.”

  “What had you planned to do?”

  “To be honest, I had not thought about it. I was more concerned about Marianne. And, of course, I have not been well enough to think beyond one day at a time.”

  “Oh, Estelle!” Susanna embraced her. “Well, I suppose Hampshire it will have to be, for the time being. At least until you are out of mourning.”

  “Well, there is a difficulty in that respect too. When I am out of mourning Father says I am to marry Mr. Cowper instead of Marianne.”

  “Dear God, is there anything that ogre is not capable of inflicting upon his children? No wonder Matthew could not bear it. Oh, come now, Estelle, don’t cry, we will think of something.”

  “Pray, keep you voice down. There are spies all over the house.”

  “Yea gods, how do you stand it?”

  “By pretending it is not happening to me. By living my life inside my head, where no one can reach me unless I permit them to come inside.”

  “I trust you told your father you have no intention of marrying that popinjay?”

  “Yes,” said Estelle with a feeble smile. “For the first time ever I stood up to him. You would have been proud of me. But, of course, he does not believe I am in earnest. He is confident that once he has me back in Hampshire he will be able to talk me round.”

  “Then you shall not return to Hampshire. You will come back to Fairlands with me instead.”

  “Thank you, Susanna, but that will not do. He will know before we have even reached your home where I am gone and will only come to fetch me.”

  “Hmm, yes, I daresay he will. But that is of no consequence, we will just have to think of something else.”

  “Susanna, I thank you for your concern, but do not involve yourself in my battles. Think of what Mr. Cleethorpe will say if you do.”

  “Michael will understand perfectly.”

  “Yes, but you know how persistent my father can be. Your husband’s parents were reluctant to allow your union.” Estelle covered her friend’s hand with her own. “If Father descends upon Fairlands like an enraged bull, demanding the return of his daughter and implying I have been kidnapped or worse, it will only give them the opportunity to say they were right about you all along.”

  “Do not think to dissuade me from helping you, Estelle, because nothing you can say will achieve that ambition. I know very well that if I leave you to your own devices you will eventually be browbeaten into doing as your father wishes. Now, let us stop arguing and reapply our minds to resolving your difficulties instead. What will you do if you do not marry Mr. Cowper, which of course you will not?”

  “I do not know, find a position I suppose. A governess or a companion. Miss Frobisher’s training has left me well qualified for both occupations.”

  A slow smile spread across Susanna’s face. “I have it! We have just come from Michael’s closest friend’s estate, Crawley Hall in Sussex. His friend, Viscount Crawley, is in need of a companion for his mother.”

  “Oh, I do not know—”

  “I do, and it is the perfect solution.” Susanna’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. “Lady Crawley was bereaved a little over a year ago and feels the loss of her husband most keenly. As a consequence her son is loath to leave her alone, which makes things rather inconvenient for him, especially since she refuses to take a companion.”

  “Well, if she does not crave company—”

  “Ah, but she would love you once she meets you. She will soon wonder how she ever managed without you.”

  “But how can she meet me if she does not wish for a companion?”

  “We must invent a history of misfortune for you.”

  “It hardly requires invention.”

  “Lady Crawley has the greatest good nature and softest heart imaginable. If she were to think you had been treated unjustly she would adopt you as her pet project in the blink of an eye.”

  “I would not wish to deceive her.”

  “We will merely embellish the truth,” said Susanna with an airy wave of her hand. “We will say that you have been unwell and your hard-hearted mistress dismissed you from your previous position without a character, just because your poor health prevented you from discharging your duties for a few weeks.” Estelle shook her head. “You certainly look unwell, so that part is true. But, of course, if you would prefer to return to your father rather than indulge in a tiny untruth—”

  “All right.” Estelle, who considered it to be a great deal more than a tiny falsehood, wondered if in all conscience she would be able to go through with the scheme when the time came. “If you think it will work. I will try anything rather than subject myself to my father’s tyranny again.”

  “I am delighted to see you exerting yourself at last.”

  “He has pushed me too far this time and given me a reason to rebel.”

  “Good girl! I am persuaded that our scheme will certainly work. It is as though it was meant to be. And Sussex is much closer to Ramsgate than Hertford. It is also much closer to me in Kent.”

  “That is true.” But Estelle was still dubious about the proposal.

  “Young ladies,” proclaimed Susanna in a perfect imitation of Miss Frobisher’s voice, “if you pay heed to the wisdom imparted to you in this establishment you will be equipped to achieve anything that you set your minds to when you quit it.”

  Estelle giggled. “You have certainly proved her point, Susanna. You have secured a highborn gentleman for a husband, and it is clear to anyone who has seen you together that you are madly in love.”

  “I am deliriously happy. But we will be at leisure to discuss my domestic felicity once we are safely installed at Fairlands. Before then we have work to do. Come, let us pack you a valise and we will leave first thing in the morning. We should reach Kent before nightfall if you shall not mind making an early start.”

  “Not in the least, I assure you.”

  The girls repaired to Estelle’s chamber, where Martha appeared so quickly that she could only have been prowling the corridor, on the lookout for them.

  “This room gives me the creeps,” said Susanna shuddering.

  “And I.”

  “Then why do you not move to another in a different part of the house?”

  Estelle lifted her shoulders but had no answer to give.

  “Oh, silly me, you could not move whilst your husband was still alive since he would have expected you to occupy the room next to his. And since his death you have not wished to give the servants the trouble of making up a different chamber.” Susanna sighed and wagged a finger beneath
her nose. “You must learn to be more assertive, Estelle.”

  “What are you doing?” Martha addressed the question to Susanna, who was pulling garments randomly from the armoire. She made faces at the dull black material of the mourning gowns and threw them aside in favour of brighter coloured gowns.

  “Mrs. Travis is going on a journey.”

  “Aye, that she is. She’s going to her father’s house next week.”

  “Wrong,” said Susanna in a careless tone that Estelle would give much to be able to emulate in her dealings with Martha. Her hateful maid had been appointed by her father. She had a tongue as sharp as a razor, deferred to no one and even Mrs. Keller was wary of crossing her. “Mrs. Travis will be staying with me for a while.”

  “No one told me about this.”

  “I did not realize your permission was necessary.”

  “The master won’t like it.”

  “Oh really.” Susanna turned, arms akimbo, and glared down at her. “And who precisely is Mrs. Travis’s master?”

  “I meant her father,” said Martha sullenly.

  “Send word to him. I am confident you know how to contact him. You may inform him that he can collect Mrs. Travis from my husband’s estate upon his return to Hampshire.”

  “Very well, but it don’t seem right, her gadding about so soon after losing her husband. Still, if your heart’s set on it.” She turned towards Estelle, who nodded once. “You’d better let me do that then,” she grumbled, trying to edge Susanna aside. “And she can’t wear those gowns, she’s in mourning.”

  “No thank you, Martha, we do not need your help. Now go.” Martha hovered, her face a study in disapproval. “Get out!” The authority in Susanna’s tone finally caused the servant to slink from the room.

  As soon as the door closed behind her, Estella and Susanna collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles.