Page 70 of A Devilish Element
“May we speak, madam?” he said. “I am relieved to find you alone.”
Through the open doorway, she saw Jane lift her attention from her bobbins. “Linfield.” She cast a tremulous look in Eliza’s direction, but Eliza made sure to step back into the shadows so that she wouldn’t be observed. She did not intend to leave her friend alone with this man, even if the devil was her husband, nor did she wish him to be aware of her presence. Better she remained a silent witness to whatever manner of tête-à-tête he intended to have.
Jane turned in her chair so that she faced him and settled her hands in her lap, presenting herself as the very model of an obedient wife. She had always possessed a mildness that Eliza could not wear even as a mask.
“Have you come to tell me the Cluetts have departed?” Jane asked.
There had been no evidence of such a thing, and they surely would have heard the commotion in the hall, and indeed the courtyard beyond the windows.
“I have not,” he replied stiffly.
Linfield did not sit, but took up a position before the fireplace, with his back to the blaze, selfishly seizing most of its comfort for himself. He was a peacock of a man, spoiled and so certain of his own value, that he could not comprehend his various obvious faults. Eliza could already envisage him somehow making this whole episode Jane’s fault.
“They will be remaining.”
“No!”
Though Eliza could no longer see her, Jane’s pain was evident enough from her cry, and thus, thank heaven, meekness was dispensed with.
“You cannot mean it. Linfield, please. You surely do not mean me to accept your mistress in our home? Only the cruellest… Why must you punish me thus? What have I done? I wish you would tell me so that I might make it right. Have I not been a good wife to you? I am more than ready than to fulfil my duties, have been since we spoke our vows. If I displease you, then you have only to say, and I will alter my ways.”
“Madam, your actions have no bearing on the matter. Our guests will stay. It is my decision, and I have made it.”
Pompous whelp!
Jane began to pace. Eliza caught glimpses of her as she passed back and forth before him, her head bowed, and her pretty face so riddled with anxiety as to make her seem twice her age. “Is it my talk of spirits that has offended you so, turned your heart so thoroughly against me?”
“Madam, you did not possess that to begin with. Let us not pretend that this arrangement between us was made as a declaration of love. I was bullied into it, as I suspect were you. And as to your theatrics, they are irritating, but given there is precious little in the way of amusement to be had in this place, I suppose I should at least thank you for the entertainment of them.”
Certainly then, he did not afford them any belief, but nor did he speak as though he’d had a hand in creating the disturbances. It was possible that he was a fearfully good actor, but from what Eliza had observed of Lord Linfield so far, he was a shallow creature, not likely capable of anything so complex as the level of deception such a ruse would surely require.
“As to the matter of Mrs Cluett, you are erroneous in your assumption. She is not my mistress, nor ever has or will be.”
“But I saw—”
“Whatever you imagine you saw, madam, I assure you, you are quite mistaken. You do after all frequently see things that are not there.”
Jane stomped to a halt and whipped about to face him. “Linfield, your falls were down. Despite what you may think, I am not such a nit that I cannot discern what is plainly happening before my face. Whether you call her your mistress or not, you were trysting with her.”
“It was no tryst,” he snarled. “As if I would choose…” He threw up his arms in frustration, thence cast himself onto the settee before the fireside, a position from which Eliza could see his reflection. “She is not the sort of person one would tryst with. She cornered me.” He lifted his feet up, so his heels were pointed toward the sash windows, then grasped a teaspoon from off the plate of offerings Mrs Honeyfield had earlier supplied and drummed it against his thigh. “Is this tea still warm?”
“What?” Jane crossed to the table and tested her hand against the side of the pot. “’Tis warmish. Should I ring to have some fresh brought?”
“No, no. Pour it. I need something to wet my throat, and I don’t suppose you’ve anything stronger to hand.”
“I should think you’d be appalled if I did.”
“Aye,” He took the offered cup and spoke into it. “I should think I might. One wouldn’t want a lush as a wife.”
“Well, I don’t much care to have one as a husband.”
Much to Eliza’s surprise, Linfield snorted in mirth. He set his heels back on the floor again. “Why madam, I see you are not quite the timorous mouse you’ve been pretending to be. Perhaps we shall manage to get along together after all.”
“You are not forgiven,” Jane snapped. “Do you truly expect me to believe that Henrietta waylaid you in such a way that you could not be free of her? If you wanted to get away, you surely could have done so. Therefore, it is reasonable for me to suppose that you did not wish it, that you were in fact a willing participant, that you even encouraged her to act—”
“Is that my mother’s bergamot marmalade?” he asked, squinting at the table, and cutting Jane’s building tirade to an abrupt cessation.
“It is,” Jane snapped, halting her march. She glared at him; fists tightened in frustration.
