An Improper Companion. Anne Herries. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Anne Herries
Издательство: HarperCollins
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stay on at Oxford until the end of the year, which was so generous that I shall be for ever in his debt. Besides, Lady Isadora is in need of a friend and I am delighted that she has sent for me.’

      ‘But you do not know her,’ Lady Wentworth protested. She was a small, plump lady with a kind heart and was genuinely fond of her late friend’s daughter. ‘And you could never be a burden to me, dear Elizabeth.’

      ‘You are all kindness, ma’am,’ Elizabeth said. ‘But I have given my word and I believe you would not have me break it.’

      ‘I suppose not, since it is given.’ Lady Wentworth sighed. ‘But you will promise to come to me should you be unhappy or in trouble?’

      ‘Yes, indeed,’ Elizabeth promised. She smiled at the lady who had been her mother’s best friend for the past twenty years or more. ‘I cannot think what Mama would have done without your help after Papa died, especially when we learned that he had lost the greater part of his estate to Sir Montague Forsythe in that infamous wager. Had you not supported us, allowing Mama to move into the dower house at Worth Park, I do not know what might have happened to us.’ Tears stood in her eyes for the months that had passed since her father’s death had been difficult and anxious, culminating in the illness and sudden demise of Lady Travers. ‘I can never repay all you have done…’

      ‘So foolish…’ Lady Wentworth shook her head over the circumstance that had caused Sir Edwin Travers to hazard his estate on a horse race. Such tragic circumstances had resulted from that wager that it did not bear thinking of. ‘Wentworth was inclined to discredit it, as you know. He could not believe that his old friend would do such a reckless thing, but he made inquiries and it seems that there were witnesses—and that your dear father may have been inebriated.’

      ‘Yes, and that was very odd,’ Elizabeth said, ‘for Papa seldom drank to excess. Mama swore with her dying breath that he had been cheated, for she would not believe that he had been so careless of his family’s well-being—and do you know, I think she was right. I do not know how it came about, but Papa was not a careless man.’

      ‘Indeed, that is Wentworth’s opinion,’ his lady said, ‘but he was not able to shake the statement’s of those witnesses—though, in truth, most were Sir Montague’s cronies, but Mr Elworthy is an honest man. If it were not for his testimony, Wentworth would have contested the wager in court, but he respects Elworthy and says he would not lie.’

      ‘Yes, I know.’ Elizabeth frowned. It was only the testimony of Mr John Elworthy that had prevented her from asking their lawyer to fight Sir Montague Forsythe’s claims against the estate, but Lord Wentworth had advised her against it, saying the little money they had left would otherwise be lost. Yet it had rankled with Elizabeth, for, like her mama, she had refused to believe that her father would do such a foolish thing as to bet everything they had on a horse race. ‘I suppose we must accept it that Papa drank more than usual and threw everything away on a whim.’

      ‘Sad as it is, that seems to be the case.’ Lady Wentworth looked at her unhappily. ‘Well, if you insist upon taking up this position, you will allow us to send you in our carriage, my dear. At least Lady Isadora will know that you have friends who care for you.’

      ‘That is very kind and I shall not refuse,’ Elizabeth said. She was glad of the offer; though she still had a little money at her disposal, it was not much above fifty pounds. She had given the better part of what they had to her brother Simon. It was Simon’s fate she worried about more than her own: he had naturally expected to inherit their father’s estate and would now have to make his own way in the world, which would not be easy for a young man of his volatile nature. She at least had been fortunate enough to be offered a position with a lady in Yorkshire—a lady of whom Elizabeth’s mother had spoken warmly in the past.

      ‘This Lady Isadora…’ Lady Wentworth screwed up her brow in thought. ‘Your mother’s old friend, you said? What is her family, Elizabeth?’

      ‘She is the late Earl of Cavendish’s widow and the daughter of a marquis,’ Elizabeth said with a slight frown. ‘I have only met her once, when she called to see Mama on her way to stay with her husband’s uncle—the Marquis of Brandon. She stayed with us one night and I remember that she was a kind, sweet-faced lady. She gave me a doll, and Simon five guineas.’

      ‘A generous lady, then.’ Lady Wentworth nodded approvingly. ‘And what are her terms, my dear? You must not mind me asking, for I would not have your good nature taken advantage of and some people appear kinder than they truly are.’

      ‘Lady Isadora asked me if I would prefer a dress allowance or a wage and I asked for an allowance.’ Elizabeth flushed. ‘Mama would have been very shocked had she known I was to seek employment as a companion, and I think she would have preferred me to take the allowance.’

      ‘If you would but let me…’ Lady Wentworth sighed and gave up as she saw the girl’s look. ‘I shall say no more, dearest, but remember that you always have a home here.’

      ‘Yes, of course. You are always so kind.’ Elizabeth kissed her cheek and rose to take her leave. She still had some packing to do and there were other friends she should bid farewell that afternoon. ‘I shall write to you as often as I can and let you know how I go on.’

      Elizabeth was thoughtful as she walked towards the dower house that had been her home for the better part of the year. She was thankful for Lady Isadora’s letter that had come just in time, because she had been on the point of approaching an agency to help her seek out the right kind of employment. She had secretly been examining the ladies’ magazines that Lady Wentworth was so kind as to pass on for a suitable post these past weeks. Her situation had become more urgent since her mother’s death. Lady Travers had been in possession of a small jointure, which remained hers despite the loss of the estate. However, it ceased on her death, leaving her children with almost nothing other than what she had managed to save. Even when her mother was alive, Elizabeth had believed she must look for employment and now she had no choice. Or at least none that she felt able to accept.

      Elizabeth had known that her mother would find it painful to see her daughter take employment, but thought that she must have mentioned the possibility in her letters to Lady Isadora. Of course, they had not expected that Elizabeth would so soon be orphaned, for Lady Travers had not been particularly delicate, but she had taken a sudden virulent fever and perhaps had lacked the desire to live. Elizabeth had written to her mother’s old friend to tell her the news and some weeks later received an offer to become Lady Isadora’s companion.

      Elizabeth had at first been afraid that she was being offered charity and had delayed answering for nearly a month, but Lady Isadora’s second letter had made it clear that she was truly in need of a companion. She had been ill this past winter and was unable to walk far without assistance. She needed someone to run her errands and read to her, because some days she was confined to her bed. Her letter had touched Elizabeth’s heart, and she realised that it was exactly the kind of position that would best suit her. Being so recently bereaved, she would not feel comfortable in a household where there was a constant stream of guests, and it appeared that Lady Isadora lived alone, rarely receiving visits from her family. It was exactly as Elizabeth had lived with her mother these past months—they had seldom gone into company after Sir Edwin’s death.

      Lady Wentworth had been all that was kind, but Elizabeth had felt that she was being smothered by her friend’s good nature. Besides, to remain so near the estate that had been so cruelly taken from them was a source of continued grief. Had it not been for that wicked wager—which Elizabeth felt must somehow have been forced on her dear papa—he and Lady Travers might both be still be alive.

      How could he have done such a foolish thing? Elizabeth had puzzled over it again and again, but she was no nearer to finding a solution. Simon had told her that he intended to get to the bottom of things, but she had begged him to be careful. He was nineteen years old, four years younger than Elizabeth, and inclined to be hot headed.

      ‘Father was cheated,’ her brother had told her angrily before he rode back to Oxford after her mother’s funeral. ‘I know it, Bethy, and one day