Lady Bountiful Read online

  Thoughts of him refused to be vanquished. He had treated her with consideration, generosity, humor, and any number of other virtuous behaviors. Which did not mean that he cared for her in the slightest. It was merely the kind of man he was.

  Besides, nothing could come of any attachment between the two of them, even if he should happen to return her regard. There was her father to be thought of, and May Script, and a dozen other matters large and small that she needed to attend to at Tarnlea. At times her burden seemed heavy indeed. For a brief moment she allowed herself a glimpse of a shared responsibility, and the vision was heavenly.

  Drucilla considered the possibility that her desire for relief was the whole of her attraction to Lord Meacham, but she knew better. For the very first time in her life she had met a man who had caused her to succumb to love. When he went away again, she would have the delicious memory to hold in her heart and her mind.

  And he would go away soon now. From the moment of his arrival he had made it clear that he must return to Meacham Court in time for the holidays. There was less than a week; at any time he would announce that he was leaving on the morrow. Probably the next time she heard from him would be a boldly penned letter announcing his plan to install a new administration for the estate.

  A firm tap at the door startled her. No one ever bothered her in the small library unless she requested their presence, and today especially she had wished to be alone. Very much afraid of whom her visitor could be, she nevertheless granted permission to enter. Before she could so much as smooth down her skirts, the door opened and Meacham strolled in.

  "I had the devil of a time getting anyone to tell me where you were," he said. "You're not hiding from me, are you, Drucilla?"

  "Certainly not! This is my office and I come here almost every day, though I am not in the habit of receiving visitors here."

  "Let's not consider me a visitor. Not only am I one of the family, but I have business with you."

  Drucilla waved him to the solitary straight-backed chair and took her seat behind the desk. "Before you begin, do tell me if Teddy is going to be all right."

  "Rall seems to think so. They've wrapped her leg tightly and she's able to hobble around on it. There will even," he informed her with the amused gleam in his eyes, "be goat's milk for your father's tea."

  "I daresay you find it humorous, sir, but people in my father's condition can become quite agitated if their routine is disrupted."

  He leaned back in his chair, very much at ease. "Does that worry you, my dear? My experience of your father is that the agitation of the moment quickly passes, which is perhaps one of the greatest advantages of having such a very short memory."

  He seemed to give some underlying meaning to this pronouncement, but Drucilla was unable to determine what it was. "Perhaps," she agreed. "But what business has brought you to my office?"

  "A matter of the utmost importance to me. I feel I have learned a sufficient amount about the situation here to conclude my stay, and I want to advise you of my decisions."

  With a sinking heart, Drucilla said, "Please do."

  "I won't object to the expenditures over the last two years, because they were obviously necessary. I do feel that it would be appropriate for me to press for a competency hearing for Sir Lawrence, so that I might be given complete control over the estate."

  "But if you don't object to the way I've handled matters, I don't understand why you can't just leave things as they are."

  "Because, my dear, you are not the appropriate person to set matters to rights here. That's my responsibility"

  "But I don't mind! And there is very little left to be accomplished. As to the day-to-day running of the estate, John Thomas is an excellent estate manager. He would not lead me astray."

  "Drucilla, I want you to listen very carefully to me. You are not responsible for your father's mismanagement of the estate. No, no, don't try to bamboozle me any further, my dear. Though it took me a great deal more effort than I would have thought necessary—your servants and neighbors being so very loyal—I have found the truth of the matter."

  "But it was our previous estate manager who defrauded the estate. You saw that for yourself in the books."

  Meacham regarded her with sympathy. "I am aware of that, my dear, but you must allow me my own prejudice, which is that a gentleman who allows himself to be defrauded on such a gross scale is certainly guilty of negligence at the very least."

  "But... but there were extenuating circumstances."

  "Only recently has it been impressed upon me how deeply a man might be devastated by the death of a beloved wife, Drucilla. I suppose I assumed that in a year or two, the grief would abate and life would return to normal. I'm not at all sure any longer that that's true."

  A flush rose in her cheeks at the meaningful intensity of his gaze. "I believe my father was inordinately fond of my mother."

  "So I understand, and that he took to drinking and hunting as his major distractions after her death."

  Drucilla frowned prodigiously. "I should very much like to know who told you that."

  "Yes, but I have no intention of informing you, for it was done quite unsuspectingly. And though I can understand your father's despair and his desire to escape from an unpleasant reality, I find it more difficult to pardon him for what he did to you."

  "To me?" she cried in astonishment. "Why, he did nothing to me."

  "Except ignore you or terrify you by putting you on his great hunters."

  She waved aside such insignificant matters. "You mustn't think I suffered from his odd starts. He managed to make me into a creditable rider, and he was not an abusive man when he was in his cups." At his skeptical look she added with a dismissive laugh, "He was loud, certainly. He would roar at everyone, but I soon learned to simply disappear from sight until his sobriety was restored."

  "And a very young girl was, I suspect, left to tidy up the disorganization he created. My heart goes out to that child."

  "You refine too much on it, Meacham. Besides, all of that is well in the past."

  "Not the responsibility." He rose, walked to the window, and stood looking out for some time without speaking. "I don't mean your father's responsibility. His illness makes his negligence irrelevant now. Nothing can be done about that. It is you I am concerned with, and you pose a very prickly problem for me."

  "I cannot see how," she protested. "I am of age and in a few months will have a perfectly acceptable independence with which to manage under any conditions you may impose on the estate. If I must leave Tarnlea, why, I shall settle in the village with Miss Script, or even make my home with Lady Nibthwaite, who has offered the dower house as my residence when my father dies. You needn't have the first thought as to my welfare."

  He turned to face her and shook his head slightly. "My dear Drucilla, that is precisely my problem. Nothing concerns me more than your welfare because, you see, I have conceived an affection for you which I am not at all certain is reciprocated." He paused, then more diffidently added, "I find it impossible to make plans for the estate without knowing your feelings on the matter."

  Drucilla sat, bemused, at the desk, her lips trembling slightly. In five paces he crossed the room and held out his hands to her across the small desk. Hesitantly, she placed hers in them and allowed him to draw her to her feet. For long moments they stood looking into each other's eyes as a smile, tremulous at first but growing stronger, curved Drucilla's mouth. Meacham raised her hands to his lips and kissed them one after the other.

  "My hope," he said, "is that you will consent to marry me, my dear. Everything else is of little moment. We could live both here and at Meacham Court. Your father could stay here or come with us when we journeyed there. Miss Script could come with you, or go to one of my sisters’ homes. The only matter of any importance to me is whether you will have me."

  Drucilla felt the ache that had been in her heart begin to fade. "You're certain that it is not pity you feel for me, sir? I shoul
d not at all like to accept an offer inspired by compassion."

  His eyes danced. "Compassion? My dear Lady Bountiful, it is you who would be gracing me with your generosity of heart, your charming vivacity, your..."

  But deeds seemed more appropriate here than words, and Meacham moved quickly around the desk. Taking her unresisting body into his arms, he bent his dark head down to her upturned face. His kiss, tender at first, became very much in earnest, and at length Drucilla was forced to pull back to get a breath of air.

  "I see," she said, with a shaky laugh. The blue eyes beamed up at him. "Then I shall most certainly have you, Meacham."

  "And will you come home with me for Christmas, my love? My sisters will have the Court all festive with candles and holly, and filled with the laughter of their children. I could not possibly bring them home a present they would more delight in than you. Just say you will come and I will make arrangements for everything else."

  "Of course I'll come." Drucilla raised her hand to stroke his beloved cheek. "I knew, from the moment I heard you were coming, that you would change my life—one way or another. I was more than a little afraid that it would not be in a pleasant way. Until I came to know you. And then I wondered if I should ever be the same if you disappeared from my life as quickly as you had entered it."

  Meacham kissed the disordered blond curls that fell on her forehead, hugging her to him. "And I knew from the moment I saw you, Drucilla, that this—with a modicum of luck, and the holiday spirit—would be no ordinary Christmas.”

  About the Author

  Laura Matthews is the author of twenty Regency romances and two Regency Christmas novellas. Writing as Elizabeth Neff Walker, she has also written numerous contemporary romances and women's fiction titles.

  Ms. Matthews lives in San Francisco with her architect husband Paul and their lhasa apso, Samantha. She actively pursues her research interests (the Regency period and medical sociology) by membership in her local Jane Austen Society and by volunteering at the University of California San Francisco Medical Center.

  More information about Ms. Matthews is available on the Regency Reads website: www.regencyreads.com/matthews_laura.html

  Publishing Information

  Copyright © 1999 by Elizabeth Rotter

  Originally published by Signet

  Electronically published in 2006 by Belgrave House

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228

  www.BelgraveHouse.com

  Electronic sales: [email protected]

  This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.