Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Lenora watched Reuben go out the door and climb into his carriage. Despite the sprinkling rain and chill air, his movements were slow and deliberate. It was as if he were an old man rather than a gentleman in the prime of his life.

Reuben said all the right things and did all the right things. He sent notes and flowers and sent up his card when he called upon her unexpectedly. He daringly brushed the back of her hand with his lips when greeting her and when saying goodbye and flirted with her with his eyes.

More than that, he truly needed someone to look after him. His need tugged at the part of Lenora that drew her to children, wild creatures that were injured, and friends who needed an uncritical listening ear.

But somehow, there was a part of her that was unsatisfied by this perfect gentleman. Yet, after enlisting Dorian’s help in pursuing him, how could she now turn him away? Despite his need, was that how she wanted to spend the rest of her life? He was quite the catch. Reuben had not yet proposed, nor had he done more than ask her father’s permission to court her. But Sir Francis was all but rubbing his hand in glee with the prospect of having a daughter wed to a prestigious viscount.

Lenora turned to go back up the stairs to the dining hall, where the family was just sitting down to dinner. Reuben had been invited but had cried off at the last minute. He said the rain was getting into his bones, and he would be poor company. In these four weeks, Lenora had learned not to press him when he made remarks of this sort, for he was, indeed, poor company when these fits came on him.

The butler bowed to her and handed her a letter. Lenora read the return address, seeing that it was from Dorian. She found that she could not bear to go back to the dining room where she would be expected to make conversation while fending off the pitying gazes of her family. She wanted the safety and privacy of her own room to read the precious missive.

And precious it was. Did the old saying, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” apply here? It was odd, she had not missed him nearly so much when she had been in Europe with her parents. But now that she was home, in their familiar haunts, it seemed so strange that Dorian was not at hand to share jokes, scrapes, and insights.

She trailed her hand along the trim at the top of the wainscotting, thinking how her life might be different if Dorian had been free to offer for her. No sense travelling down that road, she scolded herself. Might as well wish the rain to stop or the unseasonably chill weather to warm. A day or two ago, she had walked through the hospital garden where she and August had helped Dorian plant bulbs and roots. Only a few of them were sprouting, and none had put up bloom stalks. It was as if they were in some sort of mourning.

The entire world is falling apart. I should have resigned myself to becoming an old maid and spending the rest of my life waiting on my mother, then on my sisters or sister-in-law.

That last seemed unlikely, for August had plunged himself into hunting, fishing, and gambling — not necessarily in that order. He seemed to completely disdain the fairer sex, to the grave disappointment of several mamas with marriageable daughters.

It is as if he were teasing them with his carefree bachelorhood. Or as if he had turned his back on half of humanity, with no intention of admitting them into his good graces. If only Dorian was here, they could talk these things over between themselves and discover what was troubling August. Reuben was sweet but entirely worthless when it came to those things. A frisson of terror ran down her back, and she had a brief vision of years and years of perfectly polite, absolutely correct breakfast conversation.

Lost in thought, she caught her toe on a worn patch in the hall rug and stumbled into the door to her father’s study. The door creaked and opened just enough for Lenora to see Miss Tunstall and her father locked in a passionate embrace.

Before she could stop herself, Lenora drew in a sharp breath, horrified by what she was seeing. She did not go far because August was right behind her. He steadied her so she did not fall, but his blazing eyes and stony expression were directed towards their father and his companion.

Sickened and scarcely knowing what to do or say, Lenora whirled out of her brother’s grasp and fled down the hall to her own room. “Lenora, wait!” she heard her father call out after her, but she did not heed him. She also heard August say something in a low growl — she could not sort out the words, but the emotion was clear enough.

Inside her room, she leaned against the door, panting with her brief exertion and her tumbling emotions. How could Father betray their mother? And with Miss Tunstall, of all people! The governess or tutoress or whatever becoming the mistress was such a cliche. It was the plot device in at least half of the French novels young ladies of her acquaintance circulated among themselves and tittered over.

Could this be why her brother seemed to be so out of sorts these last few weeks? Thinking back, she remembered how withdrawn he had been the day of the picnic at the ruins. But everything had been overshadowed by Reuben’s collapse and subsequent ill-health.

There came three sharp raps on the other side of the door, vibrating it right in the middle of her back. When she did not immediately reply, the raps were repeated. Lenora turned and opened the door a crack, then wider as she recognized her mother.

Lady Temple enfolded her daughter in her arms, and for a moment, Lenora gave into the comfort of that warm embrace. Tears came unbidden to her eyes, and a tiny sob escaped her lips. She then pulled back from her mother, looking into her sad, wise eyes and a compassionate expression. “You knew!”

“Yes,” Lady Temple replied. “I’ve known for some time. I turned a blind eye to it because Miss Tunstall was at least marginally discreet. She is not the first, and sadly, will probably not be the last. Your father has an eye for lovely, young women.”

“How can you . . .? Lenora started to say.

“Endure it?” her mother ended the sentence for her. “Once, I was the lovely young woman who captured his eye. He had been recently knighted, and I was only a burgher’s daughter. We were the talk of the season. I was so gratified that he was willing to marry me. My father was ecstatic that my husband would have a title and that there was an estate and lands that went with it.”

“It was a love match, then?” Lenora asked.

Lady Temple sighed. “Let’s sit down, and I will tell you about it.”

The two of them sat in the shabby chairs on either side of the small fireplace in Lenora’s room. There was no fire in it, even though some of the recent June days had been chilly enough to warrant having one. Almost like a metaphor for her life. A place was set, but there was no warmth in it. Lenora tried not to let the thought show on her face.

“Is this why you have tried to warn me away from Reuben?” Lenora asked.

“In part,” Lady Temple replied. “Sometimes marriage to an excellent gentleman is less than pleasing when the bloom is off the apple, so to speak. I was scarcely four months pregnant with August when Francis took his first lover. Or at least the first one of whom I was aware. She was a kitchen maid who had to be pensioned off when she turned up with child. I managed to find a husband for her and gave the two of them a respectable payment by way of a dower.”

“Oh, dear!” Lenora exclaimed. “Is that one reason we never seem to have money?”

Her mother gave her a wry smile. “Not the only reason, but I have managed to scrape together more than a few ‘dowery’ payments and have written quite a handful of less-than- sincere recommendations.

“The cook who made the divine tarts?” Lenora wondered aloud.

“Yes,” Lady Temple confirmed.

“The pretty scullery maid?” Lenora let an edge of anger creep into her voice.

“I managed to get her out of the house before it became, ah, physical,” Lady Temple said a trifle grimly. “She had just turned seventeen. It was her first position.”

“So that is why you were pleased to turn a blind eye to Miss Tunstall?” Lenora asked.

“I think pleased might be overstating the case,” Lady Temple said grimly. “Let’s just say I was relieved that he had taken up with a lady who knew the score and was glad to keep things behind doors. But they are becoming far too public with their affections. Your brother discovered them in the broken-down carriage a week or so ago, and now you find them in a clench inside your father’s study. I’m afraid something must be said.”

“I should think so!” Lenora burst out passionately. “To think, that my own father . . . does he not love you?”

“In his own way, he does,” Lady Temple said. “Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he likes his linens done up nicely, his meals on time, and his household running smoothly without his intervention.”

“That sounds ghastly!” Lenora stared at her mother in horror.

“It has provided for all four of our children,” Lady Temple said serenely. “But you can see why, when I saw you headed for what seemed likely to be a position as an unpaid nurse, I tried to hint you away. Lord Whitchurch is a handsome gentleman with a respectable fortune and title. But I fear it would be a loveless match because . . .”

“Because?” Lenora prompted.

Lady Temple shook her head. “Never mind. Suffice it to say, it would. Plus, it could have other consequences. I know your father is highly in favour of the match, but I am not. You would do far better with Dorian.”

Lenora simply stared into the empty fireplace. Did her mother not know about Dorian’s engagement to Emma? Having blurted it out once, she was determined not to betray his confidence again.

She replied lightly, trying to mask her fears, “What if I simply become an old maid and the stay of your age, Mother?”

“That would be a sad and lonely life for you in the end,” Lady Temple said, “but I would never cast you aside.”

Lenora nodded, contenting herself that there was at least a place for her in her mother’s house. “What will happen to Summer?” she asked.

“I must relieve her of her post, of course,” Lady Temple said. “But I will give her a good severance pay and excellent references. It is too bad that your father singled her out for his attention, but it did serve to keep him focused on someone who understood the game.”

Lenora sighed. “I suppose so. I am sorry for it. I liked her very much.”

“I know,” Lady Temple said. “But I think I have a post located for her in a girls’ school where she will receive a respectable wage and not be troubled by the master of the house. It is the least I can do for her. After all, if women do not look out for each other, who will?”

“Who, indeed,” Lenora sighed.