Читать книгу The Cavendon Luck - Barbara Bradford Taylor - Страница 15

Harry had left Harrogate behind and was driving north, heading for Cavendon, filled with relief that Pauline had revealed why she had acted so oddly this afternoon.

He chuckled to himself. How well she knew him after only a few months. If she had told him when he had arrived this afternoon that her husband was on his way back to Yorkshire, he would have left immediately. She had not wanted to forgo their tryst and so had kept it from him.

Pauline Mallard. What a unique woman she was. Stunningly beautiful, with her luxuriant dark auburn hair, pure white skin and amber-coloured eyes. She had a flair for clothes, and the money to buy the best, and consequently everyone stared at her wherever she went. She caused quite a stir. Women envied her looks; men undoubtedly lusted after her.

He loved her, was devoted to her, and if she finally agreed to divorce Sheldon Faircross, he would marry her at once. Not only were they well matched sexually, he enjoyed her company, found her extremely intelligent. Also, she was knowledgeable about so many things. She was a wonderful companion. And she made him laugh with her quirky sense of humour.

As he drove on he thought of a conversation he had had with his mother recently. To his surprise he had found himself confessing that he wanted to get married because he wanted children. Not one, or two, but lots.

How he envied Miles and Cecily with their little brood, and Daphne and Hugo with their five marvellous offspring.

That’s what life was all about, wasn’t it? Marrying a special woman and creating a wonderful family; a family to love and protect and cherish.

Harry winced as he remembered his mother’s comment after he had confided his wish for children. She had told him in a cold voice that his current lady-love was far too old for child-bearing; she had added that his secret love affair was about to go public.

When he had tried to explain his feelings for Pauline, his mother had shushed him up and terminated their conversation.

But he was well aware why Cecily wanted to talk to him. She was going to chastise him and tell him to end his relationship with a woman who was married. His sister disapproved, and there was no doubt his mother had egged Cecily on to have a confrontation with him.

Pauline must leave her husband, that’s the only way to go, Harry decided, as he turned off the main road and on to Cavendon land.

And as always when he came back here, even after only a few hours, he felt a rush of happiness, contentment and a sense of belonging. This land was home … this land he tended and protected with love in his heart. This was where he belonged.

Harry never saw the girl on the bicycle who was racing down the lane on the left side of Cavendon Road, heading for Little Skell village. He was only aware he had hit her when he heard the crunching sound, a high-pitched scream, saw a pair of bare legs in the air, and then felt a thud.

Pulling on the brake at once, Harry jumped out of the car filled with alarm. He saw the bent front wheel of the bicycle on the ground, but there was no sign of the girl. He looked to his left, then his right, and was baffled.

A moment later, a girl’s voice cried, ‘I’m here in the ditch. Can you help me please?’ He ran across the road and up on to the grass verge, as a mop of curly red hair appeared on the edge of the ditch. The girl was pulling herself up, holding on to tufts of grass and weeds.

Thank God she’s not dead, Harry thought. He knelt down on the grass, offered his outstretched hands. She took hold of one of them, and then the other. He pulled her up, and a moment later she was crouching next to him, panting heavily.

Harry looked at her, his eyes scanning her swiftly. ‘Are you injured? Does anything hurt?’ he asked worriedly, concerned about her.

‘I don’t think anything is broken,’ she answered frowning. ‘I do feel a bit shaken up, though.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ he answered. ‘I’m so sorry I hit you. I didn’t see you coming down the side lane, I’m afraid. Perhaps I ought to drive you to the hospital in Harrogate and have you checked for injuries.’

The girl shook her head vehemently. ‘No, no, I’m perfectly all right, but thank you.’

Harry said, somewhat insistently, ‘I do think you should see a doctor. You could have internal injuries. Yes, I’d better get you to a doctor.’

The girl burst out laughing, and shook her head again. ‘I’d know if something was damaged. Honestly I would. My brothers say I’m a tough bit of stuff.’ She half smiled, and went on, ‘I must apologize. I was riding my bike far too fast. So sorry about that.’

Harry nodded, and said, ‘If you’re certain you’re all right, I won’t insist on a trip to the hospital.’

‘I am sure.’ The girl straightened her colourful floral frock, pulled up her white socks, then brushed her hands over the cotton frock. ‘Not even the dress is damaged,’ she announced, her eyes twinkling. Thrusting out her right hand, she said, ‘Thank you for hauling me out of the ditch. I’m Phoebe Bellamy, by the way.’

‘Harry Swann,’ he answered, smiling at her, taken with her girlishness, her friendly manner. She had a pretty face covered with freckles and hazel eyes. He thought she was about twelve years old, and he had no idea who she was. He wondered why she was on Cavendon land.

Giving him a surprised stare, Phoebe cried excitedly, ‘Are you one of the famous Swanns of Cavendon? You’re not related to Cecily Swann, the Fashion Queen of the World, are you?’

Chuckling at this description of Cecily, he answered, ‘She’s my sister.’

‘Oh gosh! Oh wow! Oh my goodness me! What an honour to meet you, Mr Swann.’

Harry was amused by her undisguised enthusiasm. He said, ‘And so you are Phoebe Bellamy. Nice to meet you, and I’m truly sorry it was in such an unfortunate way. Now, where does Miss Phoebe Bellamy live? It must be somewhere close.’

‘It is, Mr Swann. I’m staying with my uncle, Commander Jollion.’

‘I know him well, and his son, Noel, who must be your cousin.’

‘He is. We’re all staying with Uncle Edgar for the whole summer.’

Harry got up off the grass and offered Phoebe his hand, pulling her to her feet. ‘Let’s see how well you can walk, and let’s hope all is in order. If nothing’s hurting I shall drive you back to Burnside Manor.’

Together Harry and Phoebe crossed the road to the car. He eyed her carefully as they walked and saw that she seemed perfectly normal.

They both stopped when they came to the broken bicycle. Looking down at it, Phoebe said, ‘Oh gosh! What shall I do with the bike?’

‘I’ll put it on the grass verge over there,’ Harry replied. Picking it up, he did so. ‘I’ll send someone for it tomorrow morning. Perhaps we can repair it for you. We have a workshop.’

‘Oh, how nice of you. Thank you, Mr Swann. I’m so sorry I’m causing you so much trouble. Listen, I’m fine. I can walk back to Mowbray.’

‘No, you’re not going to do that. I shall drive you to the manor and explain to Commander Jollion exactly what happened.’

‘That’s not really necessary, the telling part,’ Phoebe protested, sounding alarmed.

‘I shall take the blame,’ Harry insisted. ‘Now, please get into the car, Phoebe.’