Page 50 of A Lady in Name

CHAPTER EIGHT

Being back at Pennington Manor was like entering another world. Lucy’s previous stay had been so short, and fraught with such distress, she’d had no leisure to make much comparison beyond the obvious in size and splendour. Now, with the vicarage left in her past at Upledon and the discovery of the secrets of the Oade farmstead, she could not but notice the contrast in her current situation.

Although both Stefan and Dion treated her as a member of the family, to the servants she was a guest. She had but to tug on the bell-pull to command any conceivable comfort. She had no duties to perform and she was not expected to partake of her share in the work of the house as she had done in Upledon. In a word, she was allowed to be idle.

The thought of what her life might have been had Mr Oade not thrust his sister Alice from her home was enough to give Lucy nightmares. Nor could she contemplate with equanimity the picture of domestic life alongside Mr Waley. Yet she had given it serious consideration. At the back of her mind, Lucy felt obliged to hold the notion in reserve. She’d had no further speech with Mr Waley, but she’d sent a note from the Half Moon saying she would write to tell him what she had discovered about her mother’s family. Three days into her sojourn at Pennington the letter remained unwritten.

All her instincts urged her to send, along with her news, a final end to his hopes. Lucy knew it must do the curate a disservice to consent to marry him when her heart was given to another. Yet caution kept her from closing the door upon one of the less arduous avenues open to her. And one of these she must choose, and quickly.

To remain at Pennington, subject to the distress of concealment, was unthinkable. The moments closeted in the coach alone with Stefan had shown her how ill equipped she was to remain in his vicinity without giving herself away. She yearned for his touch. But the instant his hand was upon her, she was subject to such intensity of heat in her veins that she could not endure it. She was so conscious in Stefan’s very presence that her command of her thoughts and her voice became wildly unpredictable. She knew she was prickly with him, ready to take offence at the least little thing. Yet whenever he was not by, she caught herself listening for his step or his voice, and checking the doorway to find if he might enter.

Five days of this and Lucy knew she could not live in such a fashion. With Dion too, she had been less than patient. Exhorted to report upon Stefan’s discussion with her in the coach, Lucy had flown at her.

“He was hateful and I refuse to talk about it!”

“Don’t say you quarrelled again.”

“If you must call it so. In any event, he made me lose my temper.”

“Yes, I can see that. You have been sulky as a bear since we got back.”

At which point, Lucy had felt obliged to apologise for her moodiness. “Pray don’t pay attention to me, Dion.”

Which had served to turn Dion back into the sunny-tempered creature of her usual habit. As the days passed, Lucy felt compelled to invent a plausible reason for the continuing unevenness of her temper.

“I wish I might decide what I should do.”

They were seated in the favoured Red Saloon, the morning sun filtering into the window embrasure and casting brightness across the sofas, in one of which Dion was curled up in her usual fashion while Lucy sat opposite.

“What do you mean?”

“I must settle upon a suitable future.”

Dion made a face of disgust. “You are not starting on that again? I thought we had it fixed you are to remain here for the present.”

“Yes, but I always intended to move on as soon as I might. And with all we have discovered, I am the more determined to fend for myself.”

Dion twinkled. “If I were you, Lucy, I would not engage in such a profitless exercise.”

“It is not profitless.”

“When you know perfectly well Stefan will veto anything you suggest?”

A little pulse skipped in Lucy’s breast. “Why should he? He knows I never meant to stay here.”

“He may know it, but that does not mean he will allow you to leave.”

Lucy began to be irritated. “He has nothing to say in the matter.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” Dion giggled. “I imagine he will have plenty to say.”

With which Lucy could not argue. She hoped Stefan was not concocting a scheme which must keep her in his vicinity. If so, his motivation was duty, and Lucy would be expected to be grateful.

“Don’t you want to stay here, Lucy?”

She looked up. Dion sounded a little hurt, and remorse gnawed at Lucy. “I would, if I were not here under false pretences.”

“False pretences? You are an Ankerville.”