Page 32 of What Lies Beneath

“As all of us are, my lord,” Kerridge admitted. “Mrs Morgan is that worried for little Georgette, she is. It’s unbearable, not knowing what’s happening to the poor girl.”

Pip smiled, amused despite his annoyance that the entire household was being kept on tenterhooks by the fate of a fictional girl.

“Ah, well. I will see what I can do. I promise to read them quickly and pass them on the moment I am done, I promise.”

“Diolch,” Kerridge said, and then looked startled as he realised he had spoken in Welsh.

“Croeso,” Pip replied in kind, earning himself a warm smile. “I’m afraid my Welsh is poor, Kerridge, but I am applying myself and am determined to improve.”

Kerridge’s dark eyes nearly popped out of his head, for a report that had been published several years earlier, highlighting the poor standard of education in Wales, had been used as a device to destroy the Welsh language. Children were forbidden to speak anything but English at school and punished if they did not comply. Pip thought it a horrific thing to deprive people of their native tongue and had done what he could to stand against the action, but to little avail. However, upon his estate, he insisted the language be spoken freely, though it caused him no little difficulty if there was no translator at hand.

“Ah, Mrs Morgan told me you didn’t mind us speaking our own tongue, though I never intended to speak it to you, thinking you’d not understand, but then to hear you reply…!”

Pip looked chagrined. “I know. My accent is abysmal.”

“Ah, it’s not so good as that,” Kerridge said, his eyes twinkling appreciatively.

“Devil take you,” Pip replied, laughing. “Get away with you or I might withhold those pamphlets in return for your cheek.”

Kerridge grinned and then executed a formal bow before making himself scarce.

“Not as good as that,” Pip muttered, shaking his head in amusement. Not only was his governess sending him to Bedlam from the effect of no sleep and baulked lust, but now his butler was a comedian. He must have been very wicked in a past life, he decided and did his best to return to his work.

1st December 1850, Goshen Court, Monmouthshire

The Earl of Ashburton was definitely acting strangely. At first, Regina had thought she was imagining things, for the earl was a busy man with many calls on his time, but now she was certain of it. He was avoiding her.

Regina considered this odd behaviour the next morning when she came down to breakfast with Tilly, only to find the earl had once again disappeared early. Tilly, though disappointed, brightened up when Regina assured her she would see her papa later, for he never neglected her, no matter what, ensuring to make time for her during the day and coming to read her bedtime stories on the nights it was his turn. Yet, in the past week, he had failed to appear for several midday meals and no less than four dinners. When he did appear, whilst he listened carefully to anything his daughter had to say, the rest of the time he seemed fidgety and distracted and seemed to count the minutes until it was time to leave the room.

Having only recently been treated to a new version of the earl as a more relaxed and friendly presence in the house, this volte face was somewhat disturbing. No matter what she did, Regina could not put her finger on the problem. Whenever she caught his gaze, however, he seemed uneasy, and guilt would flicker in his pale silver-blue eyes.

Regina was just reaching for a freshly baked roll when the truth occurred to her, a truth so obvious that she cursed herself for a fool. Of course. It was perfectly obvious why a man would look fidgety and be so eager to leave the house, why he would look guilty and ill at ease. The earl had found himself a new mistress. Perhaps it wasn’t even a new mistress, perhaps he had simply given up on the idea of trying to set his daughter a better example and gone back to the old one. With regret, Regina realised he must have found her company wanting, for was that not why he had asked her to join him for a drink, to indulge him with the intelligent conversation he craved now his mistress was off limits? Well, he must have given the idea up as a bad job. So much for helping him live as a pattern card for the well-behaved modern man, she thought, telling herself it was disgust she felt for his behaviour, even though she knew very well it was not.

She had never blamed him for taking lovers. Well, blame was not precisely the right word. It was more she became enraged by the double standard that existed between the behaviour that seemed to be not only tolerated, but encouraged in men, whilst a woman could be ruined beyond saving by simply standing alone in a room with a man. The earl had everything he could want or need. So why would he not settle down with a woman he could love and esteem, rather than have not only his cake, but the whole bakery window, and eat them all whenever he pleased? It was infuriating.

Suddenly annoyed, Regina tore the roll in half and slapped butter on one side with rather more vigour than necessary. What did she care what he got up to? It was none of her affair, and if he was so fickle as to want her friendship one day and not the next, well, that kind of friend she could well do without. He was her employer, nothing more, and she would do well to remember that and keep to her place. Yet visions insinuated themselves into her mind’s eyes, images of the earl taking some unknown but lovely creature into his arms and… and…. Regina pushed the images away. This was intolerable. How dare he cut up her peace so thoroughly? First, he unsettled her by inviting her to have a drink with him, and to speak freely, and then provided her with a horse so she might enjoy the loveliest day out she could ever remember, and then he had to spoil it all. If he had no intention of doing any of the things he had said, why must he say them at all?

On and on her mind seethed. One moment she was telling herself she would not think of it, or the earl, for a moment longer, only to drag the whole argument up again until she was so irritated with herself for her weakness she wanted to scream. Her ill temper plagued her throughout breakfast and on through the morning, though she did her utmost not to give Tilly any reason to suspect she was not in the best of moods.

By late afternoon, however, she was sick of the sound of her own internal voice and wanted only to have a moment's peace, so when Mrs Morgan invited Tilly to the kitchens where she was making biscuits, Regina jumped at the opportunity to go outside and walk off her wretched mood.

It had rained all morning but the afternoon, whilst bitterly cold, offered little more than a fine mizzle which gradually left off. Still, the wet ground squelched under her sensible boots as she strode through the gardens. She walked quickly and with purpose, though she had no particular destination in mind and only wished to outrun her disagreeable thoughts. In some part of her subconscious she knew she was being unfair to the earl and knew too that it was not disapproval that was making her so furious. She was not a prude, and understood that men’s attitudes to love affairs were not necessarily the same as women’s, but the truth was she was bitterly disappointed. Though she had told herself she must keep Ashburton at arm’s length, she had still wanted to be his friend, still craved the warmth of his regard and the opportunity to sit and spend the evening in his company talking. It would have been disastrous, naturally, for spending such a lot of time with an intelligent and handsome man whom she could not deny held some strange sway over her was a foolish thing for a woman in her position to do.

No, she decided, this was better. Though she was disappointed, she would get over it, and this way she was in no danger of making a fool of herself.

“Good afternoon!”

Regina jumped at the voice, looking about as if emerging from a dream. The day, which had been so grim when she had left the house, had brightened somewhat, the skies filled with a tumble of grey clouds, but showing glimpses of glorious blue. Belatedly, she realised she had made it some distance from the gardens, and was walking down a muddy lane that would eventually come out by some of the newer estate cottages. She turned, and her heart plummeted as she saw the earl riding towards her.

The horse slowed and then stopped beside Regina and, to her surprise, the earl jumped down, throwing the reins over his mount’s head so he could walk and lead the horse instead.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” Regina said, careful to keep her voice tranquil, for seeing him thus, riding towards her with the afternoon sun going down and glowing behind him, lighting him up like some hero in a Gothic novel, did nothing to soothe her temper.

“Where are you off to in such a pelter?” he asked, regarding her with curiosity.

“I am not and have never been in a pelter. I am simply taking some exercise,” she replied tartly, avoiding his gaze.

Though she refused to look at him, she felt the weight of his scrutiny upon her face. “Really? I felt certain Tilly must have done something appalling, for you looked as if you were on your way to do someone an injury, or possibly throw yourself off a bridge, though I’m afraid the nearest river is probably only three feet deep even at this time of year.”