Page 51 of Needs Must
‘If arrangements are in hand, then I will give you two months,’ Cal said curtly. ‘But now, if there is nothing else ?’
‘There is one thing, and it is what I most specifically wanted to warn you about.’
Something in Daventry’s tone caused Cal to abandon the report he was half-reading and give his sister’s husband his undivided attention. ‘What is it?’ he asked sharply.
‘Celia has a friend, a girl she came out with, who married a plantation owner. That friend returned from Jamaica a month ago for her confinement. Celia has corresponded with her since her return but shown no pressing desire to see her again. Babies are a sore subject, one of many sore subjects, with your sister. Not having any of her own causes her distress. If that situation were to change then things would perhaps be better between us. She would not feel like such a failure.’
‘The fault may not lie with her,’ Cal pointed out.
‘Suffice it to say that I know with absolute certainty that it does. Not that I could ever tell her that, or I would be obliged to explain how I can be so sure.’
In other words, Daventry had fathered a child or children with a mistress. That information did not surprise Cal. It wasn’t that unusual, and given Celia’s constantly sour state of mind, he couldn’t altogether blame Daventry for seeking solace elsewhere.
‘Anyway, after Mrs Harte dined with us last night and you evicted us – as Celia puts it – immediately afterwards, Celia went on the warpath. Given what Graves had said about Mrs Harte when he called yesterday, and which Celia only just restrained herself from repeating, I might add, she decided to see if she could clarify the rumours. So she went into Chichester this afternoon to visit her neglected friend and returned looking like she had lost a farthing and found ten guineas.’
‘What did her loquacious friend have to say that put my sister in such a rare good humour?’ Cal asked, already able to guess.
‘It seems that her friend was acquainted with Mr and Mrs Harte. The same rigid standards are not adhered to in the Indies, I gather, and people mingle by nationality rather than by class.’ Cal nodded. He understood that much as well. ‘Jonathan Harte was universally popular, it seems. Handsome, self-assured, a ladies’ man through and through. He certainly did not respect his marriage vows and frequently humiliated his wife by flaunting his latest conquests beneath her nose. With Mrs Harte being a lady in all senses of the word, there was a general feeling of sympathy for her situation.’
‘And let me guess, some of the men tried to redress the balance.’
‘Apparently so, but she would have none of it. She preferred to turn a blind eye to her husband’s indiscretions and confined herself to her own pursuits. The harp and her horses, I gather.’ Daventry paused to swallow. ‘Then Harte caught a fever, and everyone feared that he would not recover. But he did, only to die unexpectedly when he was well on the road to recovery.’
‘Mrs Harte nursed him alone and is held responsible for his death, standing accused of murder by the gossips, if not the law,’ Cal interjected. ‘Despite the fact that there is no evidence to support that theory.’
‘That’s more or less the size of it,’ Daventry nodded. ‘Seems she fled Jamaica in a hurry before she could be questioned on the matter, but the general school of thought amongst the gentry was that if she had done it, no one would have blamed her. Anyway, Celia is of course now convinced that she’s the guilty party.’ Daventry grunted. ‘I have never seen my wife half so animated.’
‘I am aware of all this.’ Cal leaned back in his chair, affecting a casualness that he did not entirely feel. The rumours were gaining strength already, and Cal was unsure if he would be able to stem their flow. ‘Mrs Harte told me herself.’
‘Ah, but Celia doesn’t know that, and intends to use that knowledge to force you into letting us stay here. I wanted to forewarn you and make you understand that none of this is my doing. My wife is being very unfair and will threaten to spread the rumours about Mrs Harte if you do not agree to her terms. When I objected, she justified her stance by pointing out that she is the daughter of this house and has every right to reside here. She said that in any event the rumours would eventually spread as more people returned from Jamaica, and that no person of quality would want anything to do with Mrs Harte then, much less consider marrying her.’
‘Marriage?’ Cal blinked. ‘I assume she means me. Who the devil said anything about marriage?’
‘Well, there you have me.’ Daventry flapped a hand, more relaxed now that he had unburdened himself. And perhaps because he had finally been forced into taking a firm hand with his headstrong wife. And not before time, Cal thought. ‘You know how women can be, and in fairness you did show Mrs Harte a remarkable degree of attention last night. Everyone noticed and speculation was rife. Not that I blame you for enjoying her society. She’s a vision.’
‘Thank you for the warning,’ Cal replied as Daventry stood to take his leave. ‘I shall know what to do about it.’
But would he? he wondered as he sat back and mulled the matter over once he was alone. He would not be blackmailed into permitting Celia to remain at Arndale Hall. Her latest display of quite extraordinary spite had if anything reinforced his decision. But he did not want Donna to bear the brunt of said spite, or for her reputation to be tarnished by unsubstantiated rumours. She had not told him about her husband’s womanising, which showed a great deal of common decency on her part.
What to do?
The forthcoming ride with the lady that he had been anticipating with undiluted pleasure would be marred by the decision he had to make. Should he warn her that the gossip machine was already cranking into action? Even if he could curb his sister’s tongue, others would not hold back.
‘Damn!’ he muttered as he stood up, readying himself to keep his engagement.
Chapter Fifteen
Cal was no nearer to deciding how much if anything to say to Donna about the threat represented by his sister when he reached Denmead Cottage, astride Emperor and leading Thadius by his bridle. Bertram was in the lean-to, placidly munching at a pile of fresh hay, and smoke was rising in a steady cloud from the cottage’s chimney. The lad from the tavern was in the grounds, chopping logs. Dawkins was on the roof doing something complicated. He paused when he noticed Cal and gave him a brief salute.
The door opened before Cal reached it and Donna stepped outside, looking fresh and vibrant in a red velvet habit with a flowing cloak ? a lady to her fingertips. Her hair had been pinned into a neat chignon for once and a cloche hat with a feathery plume completed her ensemble. Cal could tell that she enjoyed being turned out to perfection almost as much as she anticipated their ride. Whether Thadius was the attraction or if it was the prospect of Cal’s company that compelled her, it was impossible for him to decide.
More likely to be Thad, he decided with a wry smile.
‘You look … different,’ Cal said by way of greeting.
She smiled. ‘For once you need not be ashamed of me, I think, is what you are too polite to actually say.’
‘I would never he ashamed to be seen in your company,’ he told her, enjoying the fervent expression in her eyes as her gaze rested on the horses.
