Chapter Five

Approaching the gateway to Deverell, the house that shared the same name as the estate, Eliot rode ahead of the carriage past the tall, ornate gate which stood open during daylight hours. The path that led from the gate to the house was bordered with flowers, a burst of colour before the expanse of immaculate green lawns. In the distance to the right, low mountains rose to meet the sky. Flame-tinged clouds reflected the lowering sun.

Eliot groaned, the first to see the covered carriage in the courtyard by the entrance with two black horses. The coachman and footman, both dressed in black, wore canary yellow sashes draped across their bodies. “It’s Garlon,” he said over his shoulder.

“Why is he here again?” said Lina, her disdain mirrored in her tone and expression.

As Eliot dismounted, the footman opened the carriage door and unfolded the step before moving aside for Eliot to help Marcelin then Lina out of the carriage. Normally, he would take Fordel to the stable and brush him down. But this time he handed the reins to the stable hand who’d come to help with the carriage.

Marcelin remained where she was, making a production of smoothing down her skirt. “I’ve had a pleasant day and I’m not going to let that man ruin it,” she said softly.

Eliot was glad Marcelin disliked Garlon as much as he and Lina did. He found the man pompous and arrogant, and the way he eyed Marcelin made Eliot want to punch him.

“Why does Grandmother let him visit so often?” said Lina, curling her lip.

“Because he has influential connections which Mother believes may benefit her,” said Marcelin.

“That’s not all, though, is it?” said Eliot, frowning.

“What do you mean?” said Lina.

Instead of replying, Eliot continued staring at Marcelin.

She caressed his cheek. “Maybe it involves me as well, I don’t know, Mother hasn’t said anything.”

“What do you mean, it involves you?” Lina’s eyes widened and her mouth turned down. “Is he going to marry–”

“Lina, there’s no need to jump to conclusions. Whatever Mother may have planned, I have no intention of marrying Garlon or anyone else for that matter. I was so very fortunate with both your fathers, both good men who loved me and blessed me with the both of you, my strength and comfort.” She hugged Lina. “I know I’m luckier than other widows because of Uncle Leighton. He cares for us and always will and, with him, we’ll always have a home. So, enough of this unnecessary worry. Besides, nothing in the world will convince me to change my name to Dingle.”

Eliot chuckled as Lina giggled.

“Now,” said a still-smiling Marcelin, “we’ve delayed long enough, let’s go in.”

Eliot preceded them, glad Perrin hadn’t come to the door yet, which meant he could open the door as softly as he could in the hopes Climence wouldn’t hear them enter. The entrance hall led directly to the wide staircase and, for one moment, he contemplated dashing across and racing up the stairs.

The door to the drawing room, further down on the right, was slightly ajar and he could hear the murmur of voices. Marcelin prodded him from behind as he was blocking their entry.

A servant hurried to them, ready to take Marcelin’s and Lina’s hats and shawls.

“Marcelin, is that you?” called Climence’s voice.

“Yes, Mother,” she said, visibly steeling herself before making her way to the drawing room, back straight, head held up.

Not wanting to leave her unprotected with Garlon, Eliot followed, his belly tight. He glanced at Lina as she slipped her hand in his and they walked after their mother into the large, cream-coloured drawing room, dominated by a large painting of Climence in her younger years.

Dressed in a wide-skirted deep blue and silver silk gown, Climence lounged in her favourite burgundy armchair. Her white hair, which Eliot knew was a wig for he’d once inadvertently caught sight of her thinning hair, was piled high and adorned with a string of pearls.

“Lina, my darling,” she said, waving her fan at the young girl and presenting her cheek to her granddaughter who gave her a quick kiss.

Eliot remained where he was by the door, knowing he wouldn’t be called over to bestow a kiss on his grandmother’s dry skin, and he was grateful for small mercies. He narrowed his eyes at the bald man stood by the fireplace opposite Climence, whose gaze remained on Marcelin as she adjusted her skirt to sit by Climence. Loath though he was to engage with the man, still Eliot said, “Lord Garlon,” as he executed the smallest of bows.

It had the desired effect for Garlon turned to him, his expression hardening. He didn’t return Eliot’s greeting.

“Where have you been?” Climence tapped her folded fan on Marcelin’s arm. “Leaving me alone for so long. Thank heavens Garlon arrived when he did, I thought I would die of boredom.”

“We visited Uncle Leighton, it’s–”

“Again? You go there so often.”

“He’s your cousin,” said Eliot, choosing to ignore Marcelin’s cautioning look.

Grimacing as if she’d swallowed something distasteful, Climence said, “I was not talking to you.”

“I know,” said Eliot. “I simply wanted to say we haven’t seen Uncle Leighton for weeks.”

Her mouth pressed in a tight line, Climence snapped her fan open and began fanning herself vigorously.

“Your grandmother said she wasn’t talking to you,” said Garlon, his voice little more than a growl.

Frowning, Eliot sucked in his breath but before he could retort, Lina, her voice unnaturally high, said, “Are you going out, Grandmother?”

“A gathering in the city. Garlon has been kind enough to accompany me, so I wouldn’t have to travel alone. Isn’t he thoughtful, Marcelin?”

Eliot ducked his head and brought his hand to his mouth to hide his amusement at his mother’s reply, which consisted of nothing more than a polite smile.

Climence stared at Marcelin who appeared to be focussed on adjusting her bracelet.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, finally broken by Lina asking, “Who’s hosting the gathering?”

“Lady Deandra,” said Climence, her tone sharp.

Garlon stepped forward and faced Marcelin. “It’s a shame you didn’t return earlier, so you could come too.”

“Thank you, but considering my status, it’s not deemed proper. As you well know,” said Marcelin.

“Arriving on my arm, none would dare question your presence.”

Eliot clenched his fists at the man’s audacity and had to force himself to remain where he was. But Lina, standing behind Marcelin, placed her hands on her mother’s shoulders, her obvious displeasure showing in her expression.

“I agree, Marcelin dear,” said Climence, getting to her feet. “Maybe next time–”

“You know gatherings such as these don’t interest me at all, Mother. Is it not time for you to leave? You may be late arriving otherwise.”

Climence didn’t answer immediately. Then, placing her hand on Garlon’s arm, she said, “Come, Garlon.”

Eliot stepped to the side, but Garlon still shouldered him as he walked past. Again, Eliot had to stop himself retaliating.

“Will you be late back, Mother?” said Marcelin, getting to her feet.

“If the hour is getting late, I’ll stay and return tomorrow, so you needn’t wait for me.”

“I wasn’t planning to. Our outing has wearied me.”

With an impatient huff, Climence flounced out.

Eliot grinned, stifling his laughter as Lina covered her mouth with her hands to stop hers, and Marcelin pressed her finger against her lips despite looking as if she was about to burst out laughing herself.

They waited until they heard Perrin shut the front door before completely relaxing.

Lina flopped down on an armchair. “Oh, that man. I would like nothing more than to slap that sneer off his face.”

Eliot chuckled. “That, I would love to see.”

“Eliot.”

He raised his brows at his mother.

“Was there any particular reason you decided to aggravate your grandmother?”

He bit back his instant reply, which would have been to question her status as his grandmother. Instead, he simply shrugged. He could tell from her expression that Marcelin wasn’t annoyed with him, for he knew she only wished to shield him from Climence’s dreadful behaviour. But now he was older, as the man of the family, it was his task to protect his mother and sister, and that included from Climence’s bullying. And that was the reason he continued to live at Deverell when he’d rather be anywhere but here.