Laura Matthews (26 page)

“Yes, I see. I shan’t mind living in Ireland, you know, and I will help you plant potatoes,” she offered magnanimously.

Thoroughly provoked, Kilbane caught her to him and kissed her. “I don’t actually plant my own potatoes,” he confessed, “but never tell anyone.”

They went together to seek out Pontley and found him with his agent in his study. Kilbane thought they should wait for a more propitious moment, but Jennifer wanted the matter settled and asked if they might speak alone with the viscount. The agent was willingly dismissed and they were asked to seat themselves. Jennifer did so, but Kilbane remained standing beside her chair.

“What can I do for you, my dear?” Pontley asked, torn between amusement and relief at the superbly solemn countenance she presented.

“If you please, Philip, I should like to marry Kilbane instead of you.”

“And is Kilbane willing?” Pontley asked with gentle irony.

The Irishman flushed at the implication, though he knew it would not occur to Jennifer. “Yes, sir. Jennifer has explained to me the circumstances of your engagement, and I am hopeful that you will not consider my suit as an impudence.”

“Not at all. I believe you are well enough acquainted with Jennifer to offer for her with your eyes open and that is the only basis on which I could object. Her parents are due in three days and you must raise the matter with them. I think you will find that the Dowager Lady Pontley will support you if you make an effort to gain her approval.” He transferred his gaze to Jennifer. “I sincerely hope you will be happy, my dear.”

“Thank you, Philip.” With a shy glance at Kilbane she continued, “I am sorry if I caused you trouble.”

Jennifer’s temper did not always stay so meek during the wait for her parents, and they were several days late in arriving, but her behavior was no longer Pontley’s concern, and Kilbane did appear to exercise a beneficial effect on her. Sir George and Lady Stafford, however, were nonplussed when they heard the new arrangement; apparently it was the last straw for them.

Taking them into her private parlor, the dowager made them see the light. She paid not the least attention to her sister-in-law’s tears or threats to expire on the scene, nor to Sir George’s repeated, “I won’t have it.” No solution could possibly have presented itself which was more satisfactory, to the dowager’s mind.

“The child is a spoiled brat, if not definitely unhinged. I tell you I have been hard put these last weeks not to see her to the door. Pontley doesn’t want her and was forced into accepting her.” She glared at them as though she had had nothing to do with this circumstance.

“Think of the advantages of her marrying Lord Kilbane—the chief of which is that he will take her off to Ireland where she can shame herself to her heart’s content without our being any the wiser. If she is on our doorstep the scandal will be perpetual and mortifying. She’s landed herself an Irish peer, well off to boot, who is well aware of her idiosyncrasies. Insofar as she is capable of loving anyone but herself, she loves him and makes at least a half-hearted effort to behave for him. Lord, you could not ask for more!”

“But it will seem so odd,” groaned Lady Stafford. “She has been engaged for some time now to the viscount, and suddenly an announcement will appear that she has married someone else.” She allowed her husband to wave the vinaigrette under her twitching nose.

“Stuff! It will only seem very romantic to the fools, and I doubt there is the least gossip to be made from it by the malicious, since we have all been stuck off here in the country. The only Londoners we have seen recently were at that idiotic play, and they will proclaim from the rooftops that they saw it coming, for she clung to Kilbane the whole of the evening and didn’t even dimple for them,” the dowager returned scornfully.

“Lord Kilbane might bring her to London,” Sir George suggested.

“He might; he probably will one day, but under his influence you are not likely to see her dressed like a courtesan or imitating the Young Roscius in the park,” she snapped.

"Did—did Jennifer do those things?” Lady Stafford asked faintly.

“She did, and we were only there a few days. I shudder to think what mischief she would have been up to had we stayed longer. Let her marry the Irishman, for God’s sake, and be thankful someone wants her. The Irish are all half-mad and will think very little of her antics.”

Sir George stood firm on only one point, and that was that the banns must be properly read. There would be no special license to suggest unseemly haste. The dowager stoically tolerated the overflowing household this imposed on her; Pontley’s offer to house the Staffords was politely, and with horror, rejected by Sir George. Jennifer chafed under the wait, but Kilbane could only thank his lucky stars that the Staffords had agreed. It did not disturb him that he was abandoning his university career, which had begun to seem pointless in any case.

The most impatient party was Pontley himself, as he received Glenna’s note long before the marriage took place. He felt it incumbent on himself to remain to see the couple properly married, so that there would be no cause for gossip on that score, but the brevity of the note and the information that she had taken a position with such a man alarmed him. Would not an M.P. be just the sort of party to provide her the kind of marriage she had originally sought with him? Frequently in London for months at a time, embroiled in a political scene which would distract him from his home life, Mr. Banfield seemed a likely candidate.

Only one detail provided solace to the viscount. When his servants had returned from the schoolhouse bearing the props from the play, the backdrop had been discarded against his express wishes. He had thought to have it kept in the schoolroom at the top of the house for future generations of Hobarts to use in their dramatics.

"I’m sorry, milord, but there were pieces cut from it. In that condition it could be of no use to anyone.”

So Pontley had the harp shipped with instructions for the greatest care, and departed from Lockwood the day after the happy couple was pronounced man and wife.

Chapter 21

Glenna was enjoying her duties at Grinston Manor, though it was trying at times to tolerate Cousin Banfield’s annoying assumption that all women were fools or worse. His aunt was an ineffective but dear old lady who was so grateful to have Glenna relieve her of any responsibilities that she spent her days seeing solely to Glenna’s comfort. The evening meal, usually attended by only the three of them, consisted largely of Cousin Banfield extolling the virtues of his party and finding some means to lay the country’s problems at the feet of its female residents. Aunt Julia murmured consoling platitudes, and Glenna laughed at him. “I hope you do not give such speeches in the House.”

Banfield glared at her. “You know nothing of such matters, Cousin Forbes. I speak only rarely in the House, but my speeches have been received with the proper appreciation.”

“No, have they? I had no idea the members felt so strongly about the havoc females create.”

“I do not express such views in the House, as you must well realize. There is a certain chivalry which must be maintained, even at the expense of a full disclosure of truth.”

"Come now, Cousin Banfield. If you really adhered to such views you would be a menace to the country. It is the men who run things, so you may be sure it is they who get us into our muddles. Now if you were to give women some say in things..."

His face clearly betrayed that he thought she spoke heresy, and he refused to continue the conversation, maintaining an angry silence for the duration of the meal. But he had no fault to find with her management of the household, hard as he tried, and the entertainments she organized were beyond his limited expectations. Glenna enjoyed the company and made no secret of her delight in meeting her neighbors and conversing with them on their interests and concerns.

Banfield had never been able to put his guests at their ease, since they were couples—one half of which he scorned. But under Glenna’s domain they were well fed, charmed by her open friendliness and, when the harp arrived, enchanted with her performance.

The fact that the harp arrived without any note from Pontley cast her into a lowness of spirits which she had been able to keep at arm’s length by involving herself with her new duties. Of course he would not have a chance to write at such a time, she chided herself. No doubt he was even away from Lockwood on his honeymoon and Mrs. Ruffing had been instructed to see to the shipment of the harp if a message came from her.

Assured that Cousin Forbes could see to her job competently, Banfield was at last preparing to leave for London, having already missed the opening of the session. There were several petitioners in the anteroom waiting to see him at this last opportunity when Pontley arrived at Grinston Manor. He handed his card to the butler before noticing the small group through the open door of the anteroom, and asked, “Have I come at an inconvenient time?”

“Oh, no, milord. Those are petitioners waiting to see Mr. Banfield, but I feel sure he will be pleased to see you first.”

“No, I wish to see Miss Forbes. Would you just tell her it is a petitioner?”

“As you wish, milord.”

When Glenn was informed of the caller she pushed back a stray hair from her forehead. “A petitioner who wishes to see me? But Cousin Banfield is still here, is he not?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, very well, show him in."

Her office was tidy and spartan but she had enlivened it by having the water colors framed and hung on the walls. Cousin Banfield had seen no point in providing her with comfortable furniture beyond her own chair and a spacious desk, but there were several straight-backed seats for her interviews with the household staff. She rose as the door opened to admit Pontley and suffered a violent wrench to her heart at the sight of him.

Unable to speak, she stood and stared, dumbfounded, and then, panic-stricken, her eyes flew to the paintings which seemed suddenly to take on enormous proportions. Her face flooded with color.

His eyes followed hers and a slow grin spread over his face.

“I—I thought they were so good I could not bear to see the whole backdrop thrown away."

“I had intended it should be kept in the schoolroom at Lockwood for future theatricals.”

Glenna covered her eyes with a shaking hand. “I had no idea, Lord Pontley. Forgive me. It was very thoughtless.”

“Not at all,” he assured her cheerfully, as he drew her hand from her stricken eyes. “I have brought you two of your own, however, so that you need not have such crude ones about you.” He placed a paper-wrapped parcel on her desk.

She could not bear to look at it and turned away to the window, which overlooked the orangerie. “How do you come to be here? Is Jennifer with you?”

“No, she left with her husband for Ireland yesterday.”

Shocked, Glenna swung around to him with her hands outstretched. “Oh, I am so sorry!”

“Yes she’ll lead Kilbane a merry dance, I fear, but you should not be too concerned for him. He is well acquainted with her flights of temper and fancy and loves her all the same.”

“I feared it was so,” Glenna sighed sadly, “but I meant I was sorry for you.”

“Now, why should you be sorry for me? I told you once that I thought things were progressing nicely, but that was before Kilbane’s disillusionment. Never dared I hope that he would continue to pursue her after that. You should congratulate me, Glenna.”

“I—I don’t understand. Are you saying you did not wish to marry her?” Glenna asked with patent disbelief.

“If I ever did, it was a very long time ago, my dear, and I soon thought better of such a fiasco.”

“Then...why did you become engaged to her?” she asked faintly.

“Well, it would be most ungentlemanly of me to admit that she forced me into it, and you might jump to Kilbane’s conclusion that I had taken advantage of her, so I will merely say that it was a misunderstanding.” His lips twitched as the color rose once more in her cheeks. “Won’t you open the parcel, Glenna?”

Relieved to have any excuse to avoid meeting his eyes, she obediently started to unwrap the package, but her hands were not completely under her control and he gently removed it from her and undid the string. “I had rather you saw this one first, in any case,” he said bracingly, “so it is best if I present it to you myself.” He placed before her a sketch of her in the drawing room at Manner Hall, seated beside her harp, with her face and hands swollen, her cheeks blotchy with color.

Silently a tear stole down her cheek, to be brushed away with annoyance. “That was not kind of you, Pontley,” she choked.

“On the contrary, Glenna,” he said gently, taking her hands. “I could do no less than paint you the way you were on the day I realized I loved you.”

“No, no,” she protested. “You felt sorry for me, so misshapen and ugly.”

“Did you think I kissed you because I pitied you, my love? I trust you have more sense than that.”

“Well, I haven’t,” she retorted. “You certainly did not love me when we were engaged, and I can see no reason why I should think you did when you were about to become engaged to someone else.”

“No, I suppose not,” he sighed. “But then, you looked to be on the verge of accepting your Peter.”

“And so you thought to throw me into confusion?” she asked sharply.

“No, Glenna, I kissed you because I had to, because I couldn’t not do it.” The same urge overcame him at her obvious confusion now, and he repeated his offense. This time she did not attempt to steel herself against responding; there was no strength left in her to fight her desire to do so. He cradled her against his shoulder and murmured, “I was so afraid I would not be able to extricate myself from Jennifer, and that I would lose you. Will you marry me, Glenna?”

The door was thrust open abruptly and Banfield strode into the room, a figure of righteous indignation, made doubly so by the posture of the couple before him. When Glenna made to release herself from his embrace, Pontley allowed her to do so, but kept a tight hold on her hand.