[Sorry for the delay in posting a new part. I want to introduce you to Lavinia's chaperone. Her name is Mrs. Lucasta Clark. Lucasta, or Lucy as she is more commonly known, has been living in Bath with an old friend since her husband died a couple of years previously. He was the Reverend Peregrine Clark, late of St. Giles parish in the village of Chippenham (just outside of Bath). The Reverend and Mrs. Clark were a devoted but childless couple, and were much loved in the parish and the village. When her husband died, however, the living and the parsonage went to another cleric and his family, and Mrs. Clark had to look elsewhere for accommodation. She found it with an old friend, herself a widow, although of longer standing who was settled in Bath.
Lucy and Lavinia's mother (Marie) were cousins, and childhood friends with Julia, who would become Lady Fordney. All three were presented during the same London season.
Bernard Le Mersurer was in England studying at Oxford. There he met and became friends with the future Lord Fordney, and made his bow to Polite Society under his friend's wing. They all met at various social gatherings in London.
Bernard was immediately smitten with Marie, but at first she preferred George (Lord Fordney) who possessed a lively wit. Lucy was first attracted to the quieter Bernard. Julia divided her attentions between the gentle Peregrine and another gentleman who has no other bearing on our story.
Eventually, though, they sorted themselves out and, while it's an entertaining story, we don't need to go into all that here. Julia marries George and they become Lord and Lady Fordney upon the death of his father. Bernard marries Marie and they take up residence in France, in his own home village. Lucy marries Peregrine and becomes his lifelong wife and helpmate.
These long-standing relationships are why Lord Fordney helps Bernard Le Mersurer and his daughter escape from France, and it's also why Julia, Lady Fordney, knows that her old friend Lucy is looking for a place to live. Lucy's friend in Bath is now suffering from poor health and will be leaving her home there. Lucy, with few living relatives, is once again looking for a place to live. When the Earl of Kentham (through his acquaintance with the Fordneys) invites the Professor and his daughter to visit his country estate, Lady Fordney recommends her old friend (and Lavinia's distant cousin) to be her chaperone. Bernard, of course, remembers her and Lavinia is delighted at the prospect of meeting someone who knew her mother. Lord Fordney arranges for Lucy's transportation from Bath, which is why she is not in the carriage on the night when Lavinia and the Masked Avenger meet. The Le Mersurer's are journeying north from London, while Lucy is coming from Bath, to the southwest.
Mrs. Lucy Clark is a woman in her late sixties, a bit plump, good-natured and philosophical about life, having been a clergyman's wife all those years and having seen (and dealt with) all kinds of people. She loves her stitchery, games of patience (we would call it solitaire), visiting friends, delicate tea cakes, reading, and an occasional small glass of sherry. She suffers from arthritis which sometimes makes for an indifferent night's rest so she often takes her breakfast in her room. She quickly develops a friendship with Lady Eliza, after they meet during one of those first Morning Calls. Lady Eliza then invites her new friend to visit her at her home as often as possible. The Earl encourages this friendship, putting one of his smaller carriages at Mrs. Clark's disposal, with the under-coachman to drive her the two miles to Lady Eliza's house several days each week.
All, or some of this will need to be worked into the earlier parts of my narrative, but I'll do that later. For now, though, you'll have an idea of who Mrs. Clark is and where she comes from when I mention her going forward in the story. And, now on to the next part of The Masked Avenger!
If you recall, in part 20, Lavinia and Cedric finally had a nice ride together and have each learned a bit more about the other. The story will now pick up with the evening of that same day.]
Chapter Seven
Dinner was lively that evening. Without the Earl there to impose upon them the stately grandeur he preferred Cedric and his three companions enjoyed themselves greatly. Mrs. Clark and Lavinia's father shared tales of past times, when they had both been younger and the fashions very different. As always, any new insights about her mother made Lavinia's eyes sparkle with happiness and perhaps an unshed tear. Afterwards, Cedric and Monsieur Le Mersurer decided to forego their port in the dining room in favour of a glass of cognac in the drawing-room with the ladies.
Cards were out of the question since the Professor had no card sense and Mrs. Clark preferred Patience to any game that involved wagering. She settled in her favourite winged-back by the fire and took up her current needlework, alternately stitching or dozing, lulled by the conversation of the others. Lavinia, her father and Cedric had gathered nearby, in the chairs and on the sofa close to the pianoforte. The professor was rather surprised to discover how widely read was the young man before him. Cedric explained how his grandfather had loved to share and discuss books of all sorts with him. Encouraged by Le Mersurer's gentle inquiries, Cedric was able to recall for them many memories of the old Earl--the trips they'd taken together, the work they'd engaged upon, the discussions they'd enjoyed. The professor had already been predisposed to like the previous Earl because of his library but now, as he learned more about him, besides his talent for choosing books, he exclaimed how he wished he might have met Cedric's grandfather.
"I wish you could have, too, monsieur, for I feel that you would have been friends."
During this exchange, Lavinia had been content to merely watch and listen. It was seldom that her father found someone with whom to converse who possessed as keen a mind as his own, and she could tell that he was enjoying himself immensely. It was also a real pleasure for her to watch Cedric be so open and relaxed; able to indulge himself with a conversable companion. Always before, he'd been rather quiet, even somewhat withdrawn in social situations--especially during the times when Lucius was present. She began to lay the blame for the awkwardness she'd first noticed in Cedric at his uncle's door, and to wonder why Lucius would want to suppress the abilities of someone as intelligent as Cedric appeared to be. It was a puzzle, and one she was still trying to solve when the gentlemen noticed that she was being left out of the conversation, and turned to ask her what she'd like to do.
She thought about it for a moment.
"Monsieur Cedric was kind enough to teach me one of his English dances. I should like to return the favour by teaching him a French country dance." She stood up and went to her father, holding out her hands to him. "Come, Papa, let us show him le Galliard."
"Mais, chérie," he protested, as he rose from his chair, "I have not danced in years."
"Eh bien, then it is time for you to dance again."
He was chuckling at her and shaking his head, but he went along with her wishes, and soon they were showing Cedric the basic steps of the Galliard, with Lavinia humming the accompaniment. Then it was Cedric's turn.
It was a delight to be this close to her again; that lovely floral scent she always wore, the candlelight shining on her hair and making her eyes sparkle. She felt as light as a feather as they moved through the dance. Cedric knew he was losing himself in the moment, but he didn't care. Let tomorrow take care of itself--tonight he was dancing with the woman of his dreams!
Lavinia was well-satisfied with her stratagem. Dancing with Cedric was as wonderful as she remembered. The fact that her father was nearby, that she and Cedric could be here together with him only added to her joy.
Under her father's indulgent eye and with a now wide awake Mrs. Clark keeping time with her tapping foot, they practised the steps of the dance, laughing at any mistakes and teasing one another about the rival merits of English or French dances. They were still laughing when the tea tray was brought in, and could scarcely bring themselves to say goodnight afterwards. Even Monsieur Le Mersurer declared that he could not remember when he'd enjoyed an evening more.
* *
The next morning, when Lavinia drew back the curtains covering her bedroom windows, she was greeted with a leaden-looking sky, but she didn't care. Let Jeanne grumble all she wanted to about the English climate and English food, Lavinia carried inside herself her own bit of sunshine, and its name was Cedric.
She was dressed in record time that morning and appeared in the breakfast room arrayed in jonquil and lace, her face glowing with happiness. Her father remarked that these English climes seemed to suit her. She blushed and disclaimed, but she had seen the warm look in Cedric's eyes when she'd entered the room, and knew that her feelings for him were reciprocated.
Cedric worked in his office that morning, tallying up the monthly accounts. Lavinia first visited Mrs. Clark, to bring the tisane she usually brewed for her, and then assisted her father in the Library. Then, as the sky continued to look threatening, precluding any riding or walking, she climbed the stairs to Cedric's office to ask him about a book she'd heard him mention the night before. His face lit up when he saw who was knocking upon his open door, and he readily invited her in to peruse his small collection.
Eventually, they were standing in front of one of the bookshelves. She was holding open a book and he had moved to stand slightly behind her, to point out something in one of the illustrations, when she tilted her head back to look up at him.
His lips seemed to find hers of their own volition. He certainly had not planned to kiss her, yet that was just what he was doing, and it felt like something he should have done long before. She had turned towards him as they kissed, and he was vaguely aware that there was an impediment to his progress--she was still holding the book! Even though it was closed now, it was preventing him from being as close to her as he would have liked, so he removed it from her unresisting grasp and blindly placed it on a small table next to them, pausing only for a moment in the all important business of kissing her. As he put both arms around her again, he felt her body melding against his and her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, pulling him closer, closer.
The second kiss was even sweeter than the first. This was heaven--there could be no other for him! Not now. She must be his! She must! He would fight his uncle for her, if he had to. He would--!
He broke off the kiss, resolutely holding her a little away from himself. He couldn't do this! He loved her too much to make her a part of the dangerous role he had to play. Better, surely, to wound her slightly now, than to possibly risk her life later on, if she were to learn about and be a part of his secret.
When Cedric stopped kissing her, and pulled away from her, at first Lavinia wasn't fully aware of what was happening. She was happier than she'd ever been in her life! Never had she believed she could love again--not after Claude and the hurt he'd caused her. In Cedric's arms, however, nothing from her past mattered. She loved him, and she knew he loved her.
Then her mind cleared a bit, and she was able to see the distress writ plainly upon his face, and wondered in dismay what could possibly be wrong.
"Pl-please forgive me, mademoiselle," he stammered. "I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that."
He could be so foolish, she thought indulgently! Could he not guess that she had wanted him to kiss her? "Non, monsieur! I did not mind at all. Mais oui, I enjoyed it very much."
She'd hoped his mood would lighten with her playfulness. She wanted to see the smile she'd come to love so much, but he did not respond in the way she wished. Instead, he appeared to be labouring under some dark emotions, and when she would have put her arms around him again to comfort him, he gently held her off with his hands on her shoulders. What was happening, she wondered fearfully, feeling tears beginning to gather.
"Mademoiselle Lavinia, I--"
"Do you not love me, monsieur?"
He could see that her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and his heart was wrung. Whatever else, he could not let her believe she was not loved. "Oh, yes, mademoiselle, I do ... very much, but--"
His words carried with them the ring of truth. He did love her! Then, what could possibly be the problem?
"--I cannot marry you, so I have no right to ... to kiss you, or ..." he continued, in a voice that, even to his own ears, lacked the necessary resolution. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Situated as I am ... I cannot care for a wife. It is unfair of me to ... I should not have ...."
She might have known it would be some silly man-like objections! "Did you think I would not want to be the wife of a steward, monsieur? I can assure you, there are worse things to be."
"It is not only that ... Lavinia."
She smiled at his hesitant use of her name. It sounded wonderful when he said it.
"What is wrong, Cedric? If we are together, that is all we need, surely."
He slid his hands down her arms, to catch her own hands into a reassuring clasp. "I wish it were that simple. You don't understand, my love. I live here on my uncle's suffrage. All I have in the world are these books and some other things my grandfather left me. How could I ask you to risk your future with me?"
"If that is the problem, Cedric, I have some money and some jewels we were able to smuggle out of France. We could use those--"
"No, Lavinia! I could not take your money, nor would your father allow it, I'm sure."
"But, I do not want the money, if I cannot have you," she told him haltingly.
He bent to kiss her hands, turning them so that he could press his lips into each delicate palm. "I long to be with you, too."
"Please, Cedric ...!" His man's logic was going to keep them apart and it was breaking her heart.
Straightening he looked at her earnestly, "Lavinia, I need you to trust me." He took a deep breath and held her gaze with a look that spoke of his longing, and his love. "There are reasons ... reasons that I cannot share with you now ... why we cannot be together just yet. Please believe that there is nothing I want more than to claim you for my own, but ... I cannot. Not yet."
Surely, he told himself, he must be able to get tangible proof of his uncle's crimes soon; one of his nearer cohorts might be captured and subsequently convinced to betray his master, or something else could happen to give the magistrates, and justice, the leverage they needed. It might not be enough to put Lucius in prison, but it should be enough to force him to go abroad again. And, when that day came, there would be nothing to stand between Cedric and his marriage to Lavinia.
"From this day forward, my love, I swear I will spend every waking moment working towards the time when we can be married. Can you believe in me until then?"
He watched her face fall, and felt his own heart plummet. Was he asking too much? Should he tell her the truth about himself now? Could he? What if she turned from him?
Trust! She had trusted Claude and look what had happened! She wanted to, oh so desperately, she wanted--needed--to believe in Cedric. It had been a very long time since she'd been able to trust in anything or anyone, except her father, and she wasn't sure if she even knew how anymore. Glancing up again, she saw her own conflicted feelings reflected on Cedric's face. Should she tell him about Claude? Could she trust him with this truth about herself? What if he turned from her? On the other hand, if she could not trust him should this relationship continue?
"Cedric, I--" Gently, she removed her hands from his, clasping them together in front of her chest in an almost prayerful gesture. "I-I have ... something I need--something I ought ..." How could she tell him? "Oh, mon Dieu, aide moi!" She lowered her face toward her tented hands.
She felt, rather than saw him draw near her. His hands gently, so gently enwrapped hers. Shakily she entwined his fingers within her own and, strengthened by his steadying presence she began to tell him what she hadn't even been able to tell her father. Haltingly at first, but gaining courage as she went on she related how she and Claude had met, how he'd first turned her head with his attentions, his witticisms, his laughter, and how she'd begun to imagine herself in love. Cedric's fingers remained quiet within hers and she finally found the courage to look up at him again.
"He asked me to believe that he loved me. But then I--I learned that he did not intend to marry me. He-he wanted me as his mistress only. I was not well born enough for him."
Cedric felt rage course through him, but struggled to keep it under control. He knew he must stay steady for Lavinia. It was difficult to hear her tell of Claude's treachery, his disdain of her English blood, and his designs on some of her family's treasures. He held her gaze, trying to convey his sympathy, his concern and his love. He wanted to take her into his arms, but he sensed that it was not yet time for that.
Lavinia was so grateful to Cedric for staying with her throughout this ordeal, for not flinching, or turning away, and even for not attempting to hold her. It seemed terribly important to her at this moment that she be allowed to finish her story, on her own two feet, as if by so doing she could somehow then put it behind her.
She finished, her voice trailing away and she took a steadying breath. Looking at Cedric, her heart swelled in gratitude. He was still with her, still holding her hands, still looking at her without judgement, only with love.
Cedric was relieved to see the tenseness leave Lavinia's body as her story ended. How long had she carried this burden alone? And yet she still faced each day with such joy and purpose. For him it was a new perspective on courage and he loved her even more.
"I'm so sorry that you had to endure such a time, my love. And, I'm sorry that I asked you to--"
"Non, Cedric! You could not know!" Claude had robbed her of so much, but lately she'd begun to think Cedric would be able to give back most, if not all, of what she'd lost. Just now he had asked her to give something to him--her trust--and it suddenly dawned on her that in asking for that which she'd thought she'd lost forever, he was helping her to find it again within herself. To her great wonder she discovered that it hadn't been lost after all, it had merely gone into hiding ... waiting for someone more worthy to appear and coax it forth. Her heart grew lighter at the thought.
Cedric watched in wonder as her face changed again--her expression lightened, and her love for him shone from her eyes once more.
She saw his expression turn to joy in response to her own changing feelings. Then she knew that trusting Cedric was akin to trusting herself, and the answer was easy.
"Oui, mon coeur. I believe in you ... for always."
Only then did he allow himself to take her in his arms once more and, with a happy little sob, she went there willingly.
