Rivals of Fortune / The Impetuous Heiress Page 5

  Constance seemed impressed. “You are magnanimous,” she murmured. “I hope that I could be so.”

  “Oh, well,” replied Joanna vaguely, feeling very noble. “Did you meet Sir Rollin Denby also?”

  The other girl wrinkled her nose. “Yes. But I must say I did not like him overmuch.”

  “Did you not?”

  “No. He has that kind of sneering, careless manner that I find insufferable. There are many such men in London; it is the fashion. But I do not care for it.”

  Joanna looked at her. She sounded so positive. She knew that Constance had already spent three weeks in London at her aunt’s house and that she was to return for next season, when Joanna was also to be in town. “Why not?” she asked.

  Constance frowned. “A good question, since I believe Sir Rollin’s type is often thought to be very attractive to women. I think it is because they lack kindness and humanity.” She paused and laughed self-consciously. “At least to my eye. But I am by no means knowledgeable on this subject.”

  That was true, thought Joanna. “Perhaps one must know them well before one sees their kindness,” she ventured.

  Constance bowed her head. “That may be. Many of them have a large circle of male friends, I think. And I do not wish to condemn a stranger.” She looked about them; they were near Joanna’s house by this time. “Here is where I turn off for Mrs. Rouse’s. I enjoyed our talk very much, Joanna. I hope we may repeat it.” The diffidence was back in her voice.

  “Indeed, I hope so, too,” answered Joanna warmly. “Let us do so soon.”

  Constance smiled brilliantly. “Yes, please.” And as she turned to walk away, she waved gaily.

  Joanna was thoughtful when she entered the hall. It seemed to her that much had happened during the morning. It was scarcely time for luncheon, yet she had perhaps lost a friend and gained one in the space of a few hours. When her mother came to ask Joanna about some sewing she had promised to do, she had to speak twice before the girl heard.

  Five

  By the next morning, Joanna had resolved to apologize to Selina. She concluded that she had indeed been unreasonable, and her behavior now seemed demented. But as she was putting on her bonnet before leaving the house, one of the maids came to her bedroom to tell her that Mr. Erland had arrived to fetch her for their ride. With a muffled exclamation of annoyance, Joanna put down the hat. She had completely forgotten about this appointment. For a moment, she thought of putting him off, pleading a headache or some other trifling illness, but then she shrugged and began to unbutton her morning gown. She pulled her riding habit out of the wardrobe and put it on, and in the space of ten minutes was ready to go downstairs. But her expression as she descended showed more resignation than anticipation.

  Jonathan Erland was talking to her mother in the drawing room; he rose when Joanna entered. His gray eyes were appreciative, and indeed, Joanna made a charming picture in her rose-pink habit. Her eyes looked almost black against the bright background, and they seemed large in her heart-shaped face.

  Her mare had already been brought round, and they set off immediately, Erland’s groom following behind. The day was warm but not hot, and the scents of summer filled the air. Before long, Joanna began to feel glad to be out and trotting through the country lanes, and she smiled at her companion happily.

  “Ah, that is better,” he said. “I had begun to fear that you didn’t want to go riding after all.”

  “Oh, no, I love it.”

  Erland smiled. “Indeed? I would scarcely have credited it, seeing your face when you came into the drawing room. You looked like a child reluctantly doing some onerous duty.”

  Joanna colored a little. This came a bit too near the mark. “Nonsense,” she said airily, “I was simply thinking of something else.”

  “Thank God for that. I should hate to think I was the cause of such an expression.”

  Joanna was unused to this sort of banter. “Why?” she asked.

  Erland laughed, throwing back his head and letting his hands drop. “You are the most refreshing girl I have met in England,” was his only reply. “You know, after living in Canada, one finds most English girls very stiff and starchy. But you are not. I like that.”

  “Are the girls so different there? What are they like?”

  “Ah, now I am caught in my own snare.” Erland grinned. “Well, they are not all alike, of course. And I am wrong to make sweeping generalizations about them, especially since I am not at all expert on the subject. But I do think that the women who have had the courage to cross the sea show a freer spirit.” He paused, thinking. “That does not sound precisely right. I do not mean to imply any criticism.” He shook his head. “I am certainly making a mull of this. Let us say only that girls I met in the territories seemed less hypocritical and fenced round with foolish restrictions. While not at all improper, they seemed freer.” He smiled again. “And with that, you must be satisfied, Miss Joanna, for it is the best answer I can give.”

  Joanna’s interest was caught. “I suppose they lead a very different sort of life. More exciting and dangerous.”

  “A few of them, perhaps. But most men would never take their wives and daughters into the real wilderness. I do not speak of the natives, of course.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “Did you meet Indian girls, too?”

  The skin around Erland’s eyes crinkled. “Yes, you may say so. Although one does not exactly meet Indian girls.” When Joanna looked inquiring, he continued, “There are no formal introductions in the forest, Miss Joanna.” Something seemed to amuse him, and he laughed again. “It is difficult to explain that world to you. But I have talked with Indians of both sexes on occasion.”

  “What are they like?”

  “What an interrogator you are. Frankly, I cannot answer that question. I doubt there are five men in the West who could, truthfully. I know only enough to know that I cannot.”

  “Oh.” The girl considered this. “Well, I suppose it is all more complex than it appears. That is what my father always tells me, when I don’t understand something or can’t explain what I mean.”

  “That is exactly it,” agreed Erland appreciatively. “But let us talk of you. Tell me about yourself.”

  Joanna dimpled. “Well, that is not complex, at least. It may be done in a moment.”

  He looked inquiring.

  “There is really nothing to tell,” continued Joanna, thinking of Peter. “I have not traveled or done exciting things, as you have.”

  “Traveling is not everything. I believe I was told that your father had charge of your education. That must have been most interesting. What was your favorite study?”

  Joanna frowned. “None of them,” she almost snapped. “Why does everyone expect me to be a scholar, just because my father is? I am not.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Does everyone? How clumsy of me. I apologize.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean, that is, you went to one of his meetings. You saw how it is.”

  Erland’s eyes danced. “How it is? I must have done, but I confess I’m not certain what you mean.”

  “Did you like the meeting?” said Joanna incredulously.

  “Well,” he replied wryly, “I fear I did. But they let me do a great deal of talking, you see, and that no doubt accounts for it.”

  The girl sighed and looked out over her horse’s head. “If that is the way of it, you will never understand. You will be just like Gerald.”

  Erland suppressed a smile. “How can you say so before you try me? I’m sure I am more understanding than, er, Gerald. That is your brother?”

  Joanna nodded. “Gerald thinks I am a simpleton.”

  “Then I protest absolutely your comparison. I think nothing of the kind.”

  Looking at him narrowly, Joanna saw no signs that he was mocking her. “It is hard to explain,” she said hesi
tantly.

  “Please.”

  “Well, everyone admires my father so.”

  “Can you blame them? He strikes me as a brilliant man.”

  “Oh, no,” answered Joanna quickly. “I admire him, too. I think he is wonderful. But I am not at all like him, you see, and when people expect me to be very learned and wise just because I am his daughter, well, it is vexatious, because I cannot. I never understand half of what Papa says, and no matter how hard I study, it is always so.” She looked dejected; she seemed to have almost forgotten her listener. “He is very disappointed in me.”

  “He cannot have said so.”

  Joanna started. “Of course not,” she said hurriedly, shocked at her confidences.

  “And I am convinced he would never think so either. He seems singularly without prejudice in that regard. My mind is by no means as good as his, yet, he listened to my views with attention.”

  “Oh, yes.” For some reason, Joanna felt impelled to add, “But you should hear him speak of Canon Weyland’s daughter. She is very learned; she reads Latin and Greek and probably lots of other languages as well.” Joanna sighed. “I hated Latin. Papa thinks she is a…a harbinger of the future.”

  “Does he?” asked Erland. “How so?”

  Joanna wrinkled her nose. “Well, I do not understand it completely. But he believes that everyone should have all the education he wishes. I heard him tell Mr. Grant so. Georgiana wishes to go to school.”

  “And have you had all the education you wish?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Joanna feelingly.

  “Well, then.” He smiled at her.

  The girl frowned, then nodded, but she looked unconvinced.

  Erland continued to smile as he watched her for a moment, then said, “You have brought me back past the Abbey. Remember, you promised to show me some pleasant rides.”

  Looking up, Joanna saw that they had indeed reached Erland Abbey. Its tumbledown stone wall ran along the right side of the road, and the great, rusted iron gates leaned just ahead. Joanna rode up to them and looked down the avenue to the house. The Abbey was built of brown stone and heavily overgrown with ivy. It was difficult to make out its outlines through the shrubbery and tall elms that lined the drive.

  “Not exactly a pretty sight, is it?” asked Jonathan Erland, who had stopped beside her. “My uncle let everything go shockingly. And now, I cannot repair all the damage.”

  “I haven’t been inside the park in years,” said Joanna reminiscently. “I used to play here sometimes when I was a child. All the neighborhood children explored the ruins, though your uncle used to chase us out when he caught us.”

  “Did he? I should like to have seen that.”

  Joanna dimpled. “He rarely did. Maurice, your cousin, used to let us in at the back gate.”

  “Did you know Maurice well then? I never did.”

  Joanna shook her head. “He was four years older, and went off to school when I was very young. Gerald knew him, though.” She gazed into the park again. “I was always convinced that something mysterious and romantic would happen to me in the ruins. You can hardly see them from here.”

  “But it never did?”

  “No,” replied the girl regretfully.

  “Well, I shall have to see what I can do about that,” said Jonathan, but she did not appear to hear him.

  The sound of another horse approaching the gate made them turn, and they found that Sir Rollin Denby was riding along the road toward them, mounted on a magnificent black. He raised a hand.

  “The deuce,” said Erland.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, nothing.”

  Sir Rollin reined in beside them. “How fortunate to meet someone I know in this neighborhood,” he said smoothly. “Are you going to look over the Abbey?”

  “No,” said Joanna. “I am showing Mr. Erland some of the rides hereabouts.”

  “Really? How lucky for me. That is just what I want myself. May I join you?”

  Joanna agreed, though Erland did not second her, and the three of them turned back to the road.

  “Lead on,” said Sir Rollin. “We are in your hands.”

  Stifling an impulse to giggle, Joanna directed her mare to a path a little further along and led the party out across the fields. They soon came out on the top of a small hill, from which they could see the whole of the Abbey, the ruins behind, plus a pleasant prospect of hedges and fields.

  “This is charming,” said Sir Rollin. “I should never have found it myself. I am in your debt, Miss Rowntree.”

  Joanna stole a glance at him. His resplendent top boots and elegant coat quite threw poor Mr. Erland in the shade. She had not seen it before, but Erland’s riding dress was worn and outmoded.

  “How about a gallop?” said the younger man, seeming to sense Joanna’s changed mood. And without another word, he was off across the country. He rode very well indeed, she noted.

  “Such an energetic young man,” murmured Sir Rollin. He made no effort to spur his horse. Joanna watched Erland a bit nervously. It seemed equally rude not to join him and not to remain with Sir Rollin.

  This gentleman watched her face with a small smile. When she turned back to him, he said, “We were so pleased to meet you and your family, Miss Rowntree, particularly my sister. She has heard so much about you.”

  Joanna’s chin came up. “Has she indeed?”

  “Oh, yes. Peter sings your praises continually.”

  Joanna took a breath. She did not understand what this man was about, but some instinct made her reply coolly, “We have always been good friends, like brother and sister. We grew up together, you know.”

  “Very good, Miss Rowntree.”

  She looked up, her eyes briefly meeting Sir Rollin’s before they dropped again. “I beg your pardon?” she said.

  “I was merely complimenting you on your presence of mind,” he answered. “I hadn’t expected it, frankly.”

  Feeling lost, Joanna said nothing.

  Sir Rollin watched her for a moment. He ran one finger along his lower lip meditatively. An ironic light came into his hazel eyes, making them dance, and he smiled. “You have not yet been to London, I believe, Miss Rowntree?” he asked.

  This unexceptionable question relieved her. “No, not yet.”

  “But you are to go, I hope.”

  Nodding, Joanna told him of her mother’s plans.

  “Ah, good. I can look forward to the pleasure of seeing you then. May I claim your hand for your first dance at Almack’s?”

  Joanna smiled. “You are roasting me, sir.”

  Denby spread his hands. “Why do you say so?”

  “It is more than eight months before I go to town.”

  “And so? I wish merely to put in a claim ahead of the legions of young bucks who will no doubt surround you after you arrive. I am becoming too old to jostle with the sprigs.”

  This sort of conversation was wholly new to Joanna. She found that she liked it, but she could think of no reply.

  Sir Rollin took another tack. “You will like London, I think.” And he began to tell her of the main amusements of society and the places they frequented.

  Joanna was soon enthralled. Among the delights of Almack’s, Hookham’s, Rotten Row, and Vauxhall all her previous statements about not going to town dissolved. She listened with wide eyes and parted lips as Sir Rollin expertly captured the scene at each place and brought it alive for her.

  “Oh,” she sighed when he paused, “it sounds splendid.”

  He smiled. “There is splendor in it, on occasion.”

  Joanna looked at him shyly. “And you are a friend of the Prince, Sir Rollin?”

  Something in her question made him grimace, but he said, “Yes, I have that honor.”

  She sighed again. “He is very splendid. My mo
ther saw him at a ball once; she has told me.”

  One corner of Denby’s mouth jerked. “Oh, yes, Prinny is the most splendid of us all. And when your mother saw him, I daresay, he was even more so.”

  His tone brought Joanna up short. “Don’t you like him?” she inquired, shocked.

  He raised his eyebrows. “But naturally, my dear Miss Rowntree.”

  Joanna met his eyes, and he held her gaze for a long minute. She felt almost as if he had physically grasped her wrist. She could not look away until he turned to gaze over the fields. “Ah,” he said, “here comes our energetic friend back to us.”

  Jonathan pulled up before them and began to urge them to join him. This time, Joanna agreed before Sir Rollin could speak, and she spurred her horse at once. Soon, all three were flying over the meadow. Sir Rollin rode as well as Erland, and Joanna’s seat was also good, so they kept even for some time. Then, Denby pulled ahead, his black clearly the strongest mount. But as he approached the hedge at the end of the field, Erland spurred his chestnut, seeming to want to catch Sir Rollin. The two men rode furiously side-by-side for a short period. Joanna could see that both were grinning as they leaned over their horses’ necks. Fascinated, and slightly frightened by their intensity, she slowed her mare.

  They came up to the hedge very fast, and at the same moment precisely, both horses lifted and flew over it. Their form was flawless, and Joanna drew an admiring breath before she too cleared the bushes. On the other side, the men waited for her. Erland looked exhilarated, but somehow a bit disappointed as well, and Sir Rollin showed his habitual sardonic amusement.

  The rest of the ride passed without much conversation. Joanna pointed out various paths and shortcuts to the two gentlemen, and they were properly appreciative. But she spent most of the time deep in thought. Did Sir Rollin know of her engagement to Peter, she wondered? He had certainly sounded as if he did for a moment. As Joanna’s thoughts went to Peter, a man who puzzled and intrigued her. Erland completely slipped from her mind as she thought of him.

  Both men escorted Joanna home, but they did not come in. When she had dismounted and walked up the steps to the front door, she turned and watched them ride off together. Only when they had disappeared around the bend in the drive did she go in, and then she was so abstracted that she did not even notice her mother’s sharp look as she ran up the stairs to change.