Hyacinth, page 4
He stepped forward, meaning to face her, to confront the demon that haunted him, the demon who wore his wife’s face. But the curtains blew up once more, wrapping about him, and by the time he’d freed himself from the heavy drapery, she was gone. There was nothing but darkness beyond and the same nagging fear that she hadn’t been there at all. He was going mad.
He needed more brandy.
Chapter Six
The morning sun was bright and the grass was still wet as Hyacinth made her way back to the house. She’d woken early and been unable to entice herself back to sleep. She hadn’t wanted to risk more disturbing dreams of darkly handsome men and ethereal women roaming the corridors. Instead, she’d taken a walk to ease the stiffness from her sore muscles and to clear her head.
The events from the night before had replayed themselves in her mind a dozen times already. The broadsided insults from Mrs. Lee, the way Lady Phyllida and Lady Arabella were constantly whispering with one another, the dark and heavy glances from Lord Dumbarton—in all, it felt rather like she was trapped in one of the gothic novels she preferred to read.
As she neared the house, she found herself face to face with the grimly disapproving visage of Mrs. Lee. The woman was standing on the terrace, hands clenched tightly in front of her.
“Surveying the lay of the land, I see,” Mrs. Lee said, her tone openly hostile.
Hyacinth forced a tight smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Lee. I thought a walk might be a nice way to begin the day. I find it does wonders for my mood. Perhaps you should try it.” She hadn’t meant to say the last, but it had slipped out. Nonetheless, she had no regrets.
The other woman’s eyes narrowed. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing here? That I don’t see with my own eyes what you and those two wretched old women are doing?”
Hyacinth refrained from pointing out that Mrs. Lee herself was likely older than Lady Dumbarton. It would only further the enmity between them. “Lady Arabella and I are here to visit her cousins. I have no notion what sort of plots you imagine are being hatched—”
“You are either a very gifted liar, Miss Collier, or you are a greater fool than I had imagined,” Mrs. Lee snapped. “They brought you here to tempt him, of course. To parade another young and pretty thing before his nose, though you hardly match the beauty of my sweet Annabel. They hope to entice him with you so that he will have my daughter declared dead and free himself that he might wed and produce an heir! But now that he has been marked a murderer by most, his prospects are likely somewhat limited. The bastard daughter of a whore with only tenuous connections to society is likely the best he would ever be able to hope for!”
Hyacinth was impervious to insults about her mother and her birth. She’d heard them all so frequently they no longer even stung. A match between herself and Lord Dumbarton was preposterous for any number of reasons, her birth and parentage were only two of them. “You are mistaken.”
“Am I?” Mrs. Lee asked. “Then leave. Go to your Lady Arabella and tell her that you wish to return home at once. This is no place for you, girl. Not unless you want to wind up just where my daughter did.” With that, the woman turned on her heel and marched back into the house, the black bombazine of her skirt swishing behind her like the tail of an agitated cat.
Climbing onto the terrace, Hyacinth didn’t go inside immediately. She couldn’t dismiss the woman’s claim entirely. Lady Arabella’s sudden desire to visit relatives whom, to Hyacinth’s knowledge, she had not seen in years, and her insistence that Hyacinth should accompany her had been out of character. Was it true? Had the woman truly brought her there to offer her up as a potential match to a man who may or may not be a killer? And Lady Arabella knew of Hyacinth’s feelings regarding marriage! While she was not so distrustful of men as her sister Primrose had been, Hyacinth had seen enough of their behavior when in her mother’s care to know that being bound to one for life would likely only bring misery.
Looking up, Hyacinth stared out at the vastness of the ocean as the truth of it sank in. Lady Arabella had used her and betrayed her. Turning to go back into the house, to confront the woman, she paused at the sight of a lone figure coming up the beach in the distance. She couldn’t make out very much beyond a white gown fluttering on the wind and reddish hair billowing about her. Was it the same woman she’d seen in the corridor? It must be, for surely no two women matching that description would reside there. Who was she?
The woman vanished from view, hidden by the rocky outcroppings that made so much of the beach invisible from her present vantage point. It was just as well, Hyacinth thought. She would not be distracted. Lady Arabella had some explaining to do and she meant to beard the lioness in her den.
Hyacinth didn’t bother to change but marched toward Lady Arabella’s chambers in her simple walking costume with her hair tied back by a matching length of lavender ribbon. As she reached it, she knocked sharply upon Lady Arabella’s door but did not await an invitation. She strode in and immediately crossed to the windows where she whipped the curtains back to let the bright light of day stream in.
Lady Arabella sat up in bed with a sputtering protest. “I say—what are you—good heavens, girl! You’d not look so smug if I died right here on the spot of a fit of apoplexy!”
Hyacinth was unmoved by the woman’s exclamations. “You’ll die of no such thing. I’m fairly certain you may never die at all. You’ll outlive each and every one of us and then have no one left to complain to about all of our bad behaviors. But I’m not here to discuss my bad behavior, Lady Arabella. I’m here to discuss yours.”
The older woman donned her wrapper. “I’ve no notion of what you mean, girl. But does this have to happen before the sun is even up?”
“It’s half past nine. I assure you the sun is up and has been for some time. My reference to your bad behavior is in regards to the unfortunate activity of matchmaking. It occurred to me upon my arrival yesterday, that you brought me here thinking I might form some sort of attachment with Lord Dumbarton.”
Lady Arabella pshawed. “Why on earth would you think such a thing? The man is still legally married, after all!”
“Servants gossip, Lady Arabella, and sometimes those who are a bit naive will even gossip with guests. I know that Lady Dumbarton has been pleading with her son to petition the House of Lords to declare his missing wife dead. I also know that at the merest hint of that happening, Mrs. Lee has some sort of attack that leaves her bedridden and, per her sullen stick figure of a son, hovering on the brink of death. In short, Lady Arabella, I know that you brought me here under false pretenses in order to parade me around in front of a man who is most likely a killer, and who, even if he is not, is certainly not for me!” Her voice had risen at the end, and Hyacinth paused to draw in a deep, calming breath. “I am utterly humiliated. And it must stop. If nothing else, his lordship’s attitude toward me last night should make it abundantly clear that all your plans are all for naught.”
Lady Arabella sank down onto the settee at the end of her bed. She looked her age in that moment, frail with skin like crepe. She patted the spot beside her. “Come, sit. I didn’t do this to embarrass you, child. I love you and your siblings like you are my own flesh and blood. You all have brought so much joy to my later years… but there are joys to be had in life that passed me by, Hyacinth. I would not see them pass you by, as well.”
“You mean marriage,” Hyacinth said accusingly. “You know my opinion of the state!”
“I mean a man who loves you. There is more to life than a ring on your finger and a name written in a register,” Lady Arabella said.
It was Hyacinth’s turn to be taken off guard. “You brought me here thinking I would be his mistress? Surely you cannot be serious!”
“I brought you here hoping the two of you might have a harmless flirtation and decide that perhaps you wanted more,” Lady Arabella admitted. “Do not live your life so carefully, my girl, that you reach my age and only regret the things you did not do.”
Unnerved by the thought of it, by the temptation it stirred within her, and by the loneliness she sensed in the woman beside her, Hyacinth remained silent. Was she destined to share Arabella’s fate? To spend her entire life loving the children of relatives because she’d never have her own? After the longest time, she asked, “Did he murder his wife?”
“I do not think so. I would not have brought your here otherwise! Some swear he did not, others swear that he did. But the only person who really knows the truth is Ian. Even if he had, Hyacinth, you do not know how bitterly unhappy he was and how viciously she dogged him. He was hounded by her night and day about returning to London. He was new to managing the estate and did not know the ins and outs of it well enough to function as an absentee lord.”
“Could she have not gone without him? Many married couples live separately,” Hyacinth pointed out.
Lady Arabella shook her head. “Ian is the last of his line. He needed an heir and he needed to be certain that heir was truly his child. Annabel had already strayed once. He had his reasons for insisting she remain with him. If he did, and that is a very significant if, it would have been through a terrible and tragic accident. Please do not judge him as harshly as others have. You better than anyone, my dear, know that gossip can be cruel and unforgiving.”
Hyacinth looked away. She did. Her few forays into society had reminded her of her place very firmly. Whispers and pointing, with the word bastard and whore echoing behind her. It didn’t matter that she’d lived her whole life only working to care for her siblings and never once behaving improperly. To the world, she would only ever be an extension of her parents—the living embodiment of their sins. “I do.”
Lady Arabella sighed. “You are innocent, my dear, but you are not naive. You understand the ways of the world without ever having had the benefit of being worldly yourself. Therefore, it seems you ought to be perfect for one another… I only ask that you think about it, my dear.”
Hyacinth nodded. “I’ll consider it, but I doubt that he will. Whether he is guilty as accused or not, I very much fear that Lord Dumbarton means to punish himself for his wife’s death.”
“Then if you decide to indulge in a flirtation with him, it will be on your shoulders to sway him.”
Hyacinth gave a short nod and turned to leave. But Lady Arabella called after her. “I see the way you look at them, at your sister and Cornelius. Why did you agree to come here with me, Hyacinth?”
“I wished to get away. That is all. I thought to offer Primrose and Cornelius a bit of privacy, or as much as they may have with the children underfoot. Still, the governess will keep them busy and my sister and her husband will not feel burdened to keep me entertained.” It was a well-practiced answer. It was also a terrible lie and they both knew it.
“Are you a burden to them?” Lady Arabella demanded, seizing on to that one telling phrase.
Yes. She was. It pained her to admit it, but there was no denying the truth of it. “I certainly hope that I am not.” It was the closest thing to a truthful answer she was able to give.
“Green is not your color, girl. And you are green with envy. They do not see it because they are blind to everything but one another.”
Hyacinth looked away, unwilling to meet the older woman’s searching gaze. “I am not jealous of my sister, Lady Arabella. But it is difficult for me to be a third wheel in their home. What she and Lord Ambrose have together is something that I certainly never expect to find for myself, given that I do not have the kind of beauty that my sister possesses to mitigate my lack of fortune and breeding. Perhaps I do envy my sister, but I do not begrudge her happiness.”
“Do you have feelings for Ambrose?” Lady Arabella asked gently.
Hyacinth gasped in shock. Shaking her head violently, she uttered a hot denial. She was mortified at the thought and perhaps even vaguely repulsed. “No! Of course not! Well, yes, I have feelings for him but only as a brother. I adore him. He’s been so kind to us all. But I do not have romantic feelings for him. How could you even suggest such a thing?”
Lady Arabella’s eyebrows rose upward toward her impeccably styled hair. “My dear, how could I think anything else?”
“That is not at all what I meant. I do want what my sister has, though I’ve no expectation of getting it. I wanted to have a husband who loves me as Cornelius loves her but I do not want her husband. And the older I get, the more I realize that it is lost to me because I will always be the plain sister! And I know, when I see them together, that no one will ever look at me as he looks at her and she at him.” Envy was a terrible and bitter thing. It made her feel ashamed of herself and it highlighted all the flaws in her character that she had struggled so hard to overcome. Even when they had been living in their little cottage, they had all suffered in silence with the poverty and constant worry of how to keep a roof over their heads. But there had been resentment inside her, a terrible and burgeoning anger that she had battled daily. It seemed that removing the stress of financial worries had done little to make her a better person.
“My dear, you know that Ambrose would take you to London and see you introduced into society where you could find a husband… if you truly wanted one. You are not so plain as you think! Not plain at all. But you judge yourself by your sister’s appearance and, my dear, I do not have to tell you how uncommon she is.”
“I will not have a husband that must be bought and paid for. Better to be alone than married for what Ambrose would bestow on me,” Hyacinth said. “If I ever marry, it will only be for love. And I think the chances of that fade more with each passing day.”
“You think that now… but one day, my dear, you will be so lonely that the reason for marriage will not matter. Only the lack of it,” Lady Arabella pointed out, her lower lip trembling with the warning.
Hyacinth clasped her hands together in front of her. “It would matter to me, Lady Arabella. It matters very much to me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll walk in the gardens. It’s chilly, but I daresay I should take advantage of the sun while I have it. Good morning.”
*
Ian had broken his fast early as was his custom and had retreated to his library. The truth was he rarely slept more than a few hours at a time. If his own nightmares didn’t wake him, then some strange noise or phantom vision would. Still, being up early had its advantages. Mrs. Lee rarely came down before ten in the morning. If he ate an hour before that and closeted himself in his study, he could avoid her and her toady of a son at least until the dinner hour. And he did have a great deal of work to do, but his mind was on none of it. He was once more staring out the window at the gardens beyond and wondering what it was that he’d truly seen the night before.
From his peripheral vision, he saw the fluttering of a gown and turned, his heart in his throat. But it wasn’t an apparition he saw. It was something infinitely worse. Miss Collier walked alone in the garden, her head cast down as if the weight of the world was draped across her shoulders along with the paisley shawl she’d donned for warmth.
He didn’t consider his actions. If he had, he’d probably have remained inside. Instead, he found himself stepping through the door onto the terrace and then down the steps toward the garden bench she approached. “Good morning, Miss Collier,” he called out.
She looked up, startled. Her wide violet eyes were like amethysts in the morning light. “Lord Dumbarton, I’m sorry. I must have been woolgathering.”
“I’ve never known wool to be so troublesome, Miss Collier. You look rather pensive this morning,” he observed. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“If I’m pensive, surely I would not be good company,” she replied.
“Nonsense,” he said. “We will simply be pensive together.”
His teasing coaxed a smile from her and he was grateful for it.
“Thank you, my lord, for your hospitality. But I think I owe you an apology… especially as I know one will not be forthcoming from Lady Arabella. I did not know what scheme she and your mother had concocted. I’m not a woman looking to be matched so I cannot imagine what made her envision herself a matchmaker.”
Ian considered his answer for a moment. “You have nothing to apologize for. And if my mother’s schemes have made you uncomfortable here, then I will issue an apology on her behalf. They are meddlesome but well meaning.”
“Indeed,” Miss Collier agreed.
Ian watched her for a moment, the graceful way she moved, the delicate curve of her neck and subtle beauty of her pale features. She was lovely. Far lovelier than she realized, he thought. Perhaps it was that the notion that she needed to be made aware of her many charms that prompted him to speak boldly. “And I will admit something to you, Miss Collier, ill-advised though it may be. If my situation were different, and the prospect of freedom not so very far from me, I might have had a very different response to their interference.”
She stopped walking then, her feet shuffling to a halt. Then she turned and glanced back at him. “That is very kind of you to say, my lord, but such flattery is unnecessary. I know my place in the scheme of things. I’m not an heiress, nor a great beauty, and my only lofty connections are tenuous ones through my sister’s marriage. I’m hardly what one would consider a catch.”
Ian wondered if perhaps she was fishing for compliments. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he dismissed it. It was not her way. So he said, “It is a pity, Miss Collier, that you see yourself through such a skewed lens. You are a beautiful woman. Much more so than you know… I think because you’ve spent your life in your sister’s shadow.”
Her eyebrows shot upward. “How do you know that?”
Ian smiled, but it was a rather grim expression as he remembered the way Annabel had ranted and raved over the new Lady Ambrose. “My wife was a great beauty… she lacked fortune and family connections, as well. But she did have friends who brought her into society. She was the belle of every ball until your sister came to town. Even married and obviously in love with her husband, nearly every man who encountered your sister and even a few who did not, wrote odes to her beauty. Annabel, for perhaps the first time in her life, was outshone and she despised your sister for it.”
