“Twenty miles to Lochmaben, and fourteen miles to the inn, and I cannot even offer you any of our horses, for they are all out today. Do stay! I am sorely in need of a friendly face, for we are all at odds with each other.”
“It seems I will have to stay, if you have room for me. Perhaps the room that Izzy had?”
“That can be arranged. Sophie Hearle was sharing with her, but she preferred a smaller room, so Izzy’s room is empty just now.”
He gave the orders, and then led Ian through a curved colonnade to one of the wings of the house. Davenport’s study was a small corner room, looking out over a part of the lake. He pushed a glass of Madeira into Ian’s hand, then sat him in one of a pair of leather chairs on either side of the empty hearth.
“Now, where shall I start?” Davenport said. “Izzy was only here for two days, but she managed to disrupt all our carefully laid plans.”
Ian gave a bark of laughter. “That sounds like Izzy. Tell me first who the Miss Plowmans are.”
He listened quietly as Davenport told the story, surprised by Davenport succumbing to a pragmatic marriage, but entirely unsurprised by Izzy’s part in events. He had already had to smooth over the disruption at Harfield Priory after her secretive departure, and then settle Marsden’s outraged feelings. It was utterly in keeping to find the same trail of devastation here.
But there were still unanswered questions. “The Miss Plowmans left willingly with Izzy, I take it? She did not kidnap them, or anything?”
Davenport almost choked on his Madeira. “Ha! A very pretty idea you have of your wife! No, amusing as that would have been, she did not need to kidnap them, for they went with her freely. They each took a portmanteau of clothes and waited at the bottom of the drive for the carriage. She had borrowed our travelling carriage, so it was large enough for all three of them. We knew nothing about it until they were looked for before dinner. James Coachman returned the next day with a letter for Mr Plowman. He, of course, flew into a towering rage. He has gone to Lochmaben to try to get the girls back, but I imagine the duchess will be a match for him. Not that it will help him even if he brings them back. If a woman is so desperate to escape matrimony with me that she runs away, nothing would prevail on me to marry her under such circumstances.”
That cut like a knife! Was that not precisely what Izzy had done — run away to escape matrimony with Ian? But he would not think about that. He would not give up until all hope was lost.
“I should have been married by now,” Davenport went on morosely. “Yesterday, it was to have been, and there should have been a ball last night to celebrate. Now we have an ocean of white soup to drink and a mountain of lobster patties, and no one to eat them. Half my relations have gone home in high dudgeon, taking their wedding gifts with them, Mrs Plowmanhas been weeping incessantly and my parents…” He sighed heavily. “They seem to have aged ten years in the past two days, and they were both in poor health already.”
“Did they want this marriage so badly, then?”
“They want me to marrysomeone, to produce the necessary son and heir. I am the only son, so—”
“I have never understood this obsession with sons,” Ian said sharply. “You have cousins, Davenport. The line will not go extinct if you have no son of your own.”
“I know, I know, but the desire for grandchildren of their own eats away at them. And then there is this land that Plowman has offered for Ruth’s dowry. It used to be part of the estate, many years ago, and Father is obsessed with bringing it back into the fold before he dies. You may say it is absurd, and I would agree with you, but there is no convincing my father of it.”
“Why not simply buy the land?”
“Too expensive. We have not your resources, Farramont. So you see how we are placed here. I do not blame Izzy, for she only spoke her mind, after all, but it cannot be denied that we are in a sad state. I am very glad to have you here, though, for we can end the evening with brandy and maudlin reminiscences, and remember a time when life was not so damnablydifficult.”
14: Negotiation
Ian’s room had no trace of Izzy’s perfume in it. An army of maids had been in and swept it clear of any remnant of her, so that now the room smelt overpoweringly of beeswax polish and roses from the garden. Still, he could imagine her lying in the bed, her lovely hair spread over the pillow, for she never plaited or bound it at night. On the few occasions when they had been obliged to share a room, he had stayed awake for hours just to watch her. It was the only time she was completely still. However restless she was when awake, in sleep she could lie motionless for hours at a time, only the steady rise and fall of her chest to reassure him that she still breathed.
Wycliffe looked around the room with disfavour, his gaze taking in the roses on the wallpaper and the several vases of blooms.
“It is somewhat…flowery, my lord.”
“Mr Davenport assures me it is the best room in the house, but perhaps we could manage with fewer vases of roses, do you think?”
“I’ll see to it, my lord. The grey waistcoat this evening, my lord, or the silver? The family is formal at dinner, I am told, so I’ve laid out your knee breeches.”
“The grey, I think. I am in a grey mood. Is there water for a bath?”
“Not at such short notice, my lord, but if you can’t bathe, at least you won’t starve. There’s food enough for an army downstairs.”
“Or for a ball,” Ian said absently. “Wycliffe, I need to write a note to be sent to Lochmaben. Find a groom able to take it for me, will you?”
“Today, my lord?”
“Today, yes. As soon as I have written it, and he is to wait for a reply.”
Ian’s note was brief and to the point.
‘To the Countess of Rennington, Lochmaben Castle. Madam, I have reached Harringdon Hall to find Izzy gone north, I suspect to Strathinver. Have you had any word of her? If she is there, on no account tell her that I am so close, or she may bolt again. I will be there as soon as I can. I hope you are well, and also the duke and duchess. Respectfully yours, Farramont.’
