Читать книгу Regency High Society Vol 1: A Hasty Betrothal / A Scandalous Marriage / The Count's Charade / The Rake and the Rebel - Mary Brendan - Страница 8

Harriet had suffered a restless night in her rose bedchamber. Her head ached and parts of her body felt very sore as she tossed and turned in the big bed. She was glad that it was not a four-poster, as she had always hated them, slightly fearful that someone may be prowling around beyond the closed bedcurtains.

Having spent most of her youth in Spain and Portugal, she disliked being shut in, preferring open spaces and wide skies. She had discovered, to her surprise, that she loved the lush greenness of England and, even though she had also found that she was expected to conform to the rigid pattern of behaviour required of an English miss, she had eventually settled into her new life as a gentleman farmer’s daughter quite contentedly.

However, although occasional digressions still occurred, her stubbornness still had to be held firmly in check, especially if she felt that her wishes were being unreasonably overridden, and her father had often had cause to wonder from whence this mulish streak had come. Her mother could only suppose that it must have been inherited from her Scottish forebears, once reminding her husband that her own father’s cussedness had been legend in his lands and who,

Harriet had been subsequently informed, had continued to earn this reputation over the succeeding years.

Harriet wondered if he would respond to Lady Caroline’s missive. She had intended arriving, unannounced, on his doorstep, confident of her ability to win round the dear old gentleman she had supposed him to be but, after her conversation with the countess, she was no longer so sure of herself. In fact, he sounded a rather disagreeable sort of fellow, refusing to have anything to do with Mama just because she had wanted to marry darling Papa. He must be slightly touched in his upper quarters, she decided, pulling the quilt around her. Mama had seldom spoken about him and it was only after Papa’s death that she had told her daughter that she believed him to be still alive, having read of some Highland clearance dispute with which he was involved. Hearing that he had taken a sympathetic view of the Highlanders’ plight had been the main reason that Harriet had elected to seek out her grandfather. She could have succeeded too, she fulminated resentfully, had not that fool coachman knocked her down. Then, that arrogant Sandford! Carting her off like so much baggage! And in the opposite direction, too! And now, she had to pretend to be engaged to him! What a disappointment he had turned out to be! A small tear crept from her eye as she took stock of her situation and, sniffing, she realised forlornly that she would have to make the best of it until a better opportunity presented itself—the words her father had been wont to use if ever he heard her complaining about her lot. She drifted off to sleep, beset by dreams of marching columns, speeding coaches and Viscount Sandford, surrounded by hundreds of tartan sheep!

The following morning at breakfast, Sandford announced his intention of riding over to Westpark to introduce hi ‘betrothed’ to the Hursts. He nodded briskly to Harriet, who glowered at him over the rim of her cup.

‘If you could arrange to be ready in half an hour, I shall have the horses saddled.’

‘Oh, I’m afraid I cannot accompany you,’ she countered. ‘I have no habit, although I dare say could wear my breeches, of course,’ she offered pertly.

Lady Caroline frowned at her and shook her head. ‘Don’t be naughty, my child. You must not tease him. He has not yet got out of the way of giving orders.’ She turned to her son and smiled. ‘I have arranged for Madame Armande to bring her seamstresses to us this morning, my dear. If you could wait until Miss Cordell has some suitable garments I am sure she will be happy to accompany you. You will want her to make a good impression, I know—especially on Lady Butler.’ Her eyes twinkled as she saw her words take effect.

‘As you say, ma’am,’ replied Sandford, rising. ‘Then I shall go up to see how Father does and tend to other business instead. Your servant, ladies.’ He bowed in Harriet’s direction and left the room.

‘He’s very high-handed, isn’t he?’ Harriet said, in some surprise at his sudden departure, and strangely disappointed that he had refused to rise to her bait.

Her ladyship patted her hand. ‘He has been used to making decisions, my dear,’ she said. ‘And, like yourself perhaps, he has been out of Society for so long that he forgets how it goes on. You must not mind him.’

Looking at the clock on the mantel-shelf, she rose to her feet. ‘Come, now we must attend to Madame. She will be waiting in the sewing-room and we have a lot to get through.’

The next few hours were a test of stamina, with Harriet being pushed and pulled and pinned and measured until her head was in a whirl. Madame had brought several garments ready-made, which were to be altered to fit her at once, in addition to the many bolts of various fabrics that she offered for Lady Caroline’s inspection.

At last, the countess took Harriet down for the cold luncheon that had been laid out for them in the dining-room. Sandford was nowhere to be seen. Harriet supposed him to be about his ‘other business'. She, herself, was desperate to get out into the fresh air and was about to ask her ladyship’s permission to take a walk on the terrace when March entered and announced a visitor.

‘The Honourable Mrs Hurst, my lady,’ he intoned grandly, and a tall, raven-haired beauty swept in past him.

‘Judith, my dear!’ The countess rose from her seat. ‘I was not expecting you, surely? Not that you need an invitation, to be sure. Sit down, please—you will see we are still at lunch—such a busy morning we have had!’

Judith Hurst took a seat at the table, gracefully arranging the skirts of her black riding-habit and removing her gloves. Her soft brown eyes rested on Harriet with open curiosity as she spoke, her words almost tripping over themselves in her breathless haste.

‘I confess to being all agog, Belle-Mere! Mother has sent me over to see how Lord William does and I have just this moment seen Madame Armande’s equipage leaving Beldale. Forgive my vulgar curiosity, but I cannot contain myself as to what it is all about!’

Lady Caroline was forced into making an instant decision. Little as she cared to deceive her daughter-in-law, of whom she was very fond, she knew her to be somewhat featherbrained. One of the reasons dear Philip had loved her, the countess supposed but, nevertheless, she doubted Judith’s ability to keep the bones of this secret to herself or, more especially, from her mother, which Lady Caroline knew was

Sandford’s main objective. Her mind worked quickly and she rose, moving to stand beside Harriet’s chair and, placing her hand on the girl’s shoulder, she announced, ‘Allow me to introduce you to Robert’s betrothed, my dear. This is Miss Harriet Cordell.’

Judith Hurst’s eyes widened in amazement, then her face became wreathed in smiles as she clapped her hands together.

‘Is it true, then? Is he engaged at last?’ She, too, rose from her seat and came to Harriet’s side. ‘How truly delightful! I am so happy for you both. Do say we shall be friends, dear Miss Cordell.’

Harriet, by now full of embarrassment, was attempting to gather her wits in order to make some suitable reply when, to her relief, Sandford entered the room and, striding forward, held out his hands to his sister-in-law.

‘How well you look, dear Judith,’ he said, with a welcoming grin. ‘Still the prettiest girl in the county, I see.’

There was a moment’s awkward silence before Judith, laughing, pushed him away in mock dismay.

‘Oh, Robert! You devil! Do not tease so!’ she chided him. ‘Why have you kept such a secret from me? I thought myself your dearest friend and have only just now been informed of your betrothal!’

Sandford shot a glance at his mother and quickly appraised the situation.

‘I see I have been forestalled,’ he said, with a rueful smile. ‘I promise I intended to bring Miss Cordell to Westpark as soon as I was able. We were obliged to quit London in such haste that we had no time to pack our belongings—I believe Madame Armande is attending to some of your more pressing needs?’ He cast what he felt to be a fond smile in Harriet’s direction.

‘I hope the morning’s activities have not tired you out, dearest?’ He continued, determined to play his part to perfection. ‘I came to see if you would care to take a walk in the grounds—but perhaps you would prefer to stay and talk to Mrs Hurst? I’m sure she is dying to hear our story!’

Judith shook her head and laughed.

‘Very true, my dear Robert—but I shall not play the gooseberry! And besides, I do want to know how Lord William does. You two lovebirds may run along now if you promise that you will tell me all later?’

Sandford bowed and, taking Harriet’s hand on his arm, he led her out through the rear doors on to the terrace. He did not speak until they had descended the steps leading to the gardens.

‘I should have foreseen that possibility,’ he commented thoughtfully as soon as they were out of earshot. ‘I trust that you were not too discomposed?’

‘We were caught off our guard,’ admitted Harriet, relieved to be out in the fresh air at last. ‘Lady Caroline showed great presence of mind. However, it now appears that we have to concoct some sort of history for our sudden—romance.’

Her voice stumbled on the word and he looked down at her flushed cheeks in concern.

‘It will not be for long,’ he said soothingly. ‘We must stick to the truth as far as possible—we could easily have known one another for years. I shall simply say that we met again in London and that I was overcome …’

He stopped, as Harriet came to an abrupt halt beside him.

‘Oh, I would prefer that you do not say such a thing, my lord,’ she exclaimed, hot with embarrassment. ‘I must inform you that I feel sufficiently uncomfortable about this whole charade without having to fabricate even more deception.’

‘Judith is no fool,’ he informed her bluntly. ‘She will expect ‘'love” to be in it somewhere—and how else would you explain such a hasty betrothal?’

Harriet’s chin came up and she flashed angry eyes at him.

‘I take leave to remind you that it was not my idea, nor was I in favour of it!’ she felt constrained to point out. ‘Now it appears that we are to be embroiled in yet more deceit. I shudder to think what further complications lie in store!’

‘Oh, come now! Surely it cannot be beyond your powers to engage in a little harmless play-acting—you seemed ready enough to dash about the countryside in questionable and, unless I’m mistaken, stolen garb only yesterday!’

Tongue in cheek, he was deliberately goading her and knew he had achieved a hit with this sally when he saw her fists clench.

‘I did not steal them!’ she replied hotly. ‘I left a guinea—far more than they were worth!’ Then she realised that he was set upon teasing her, which merely increased her anger.

‘That, as you perfectly well know, was quite a different matter,’ she threw at him, ‘and, though I tremble to mention it, perhaps it will be your own lack of ability that will bring about the downfall of this ill-conceived plan—especially if you persist in referring to other young ladies as ‘'quite the prettiest''—even if they are,’ she finished lamely, scowling as Sandford laughed outright.

‘Clumsy of me,’ he admitted cheerfully. ‘On that I stand corrected! I promise to remember that you have that honour now and, if you will only play your part with a little more conviction, I’m sure we will hold out.’

He lifted her hand and firmly placed it once more on his arm.

‘Shall we say twice around the fountain, my dear? And please endeavour to keep step. I do not wish to seem to be dragging you around the gardens!’

‘Then stop striding along as though you were marching to war,’ she protested. ‘I cannot walk at such a pace and I refuse to run alongside you. Is everything always done to your bidding?’ She swiftly withdrew her hand, as he halted once more.

‘You really are the most infuriating young lady I have ever come across,’ he said, no longer hiding his irritation. ‘And this is fast becoming a bore! Surely you must prefer to be here at Beldale rather than under some hedgerow, or worse. After all your years in the Peninsula, I need not point out what might have happened to you had someone other than myself found you on that roadside … !’

‘Yes, well—I do know that and I have repeatedly told you that I am very grateful to you, but that does not give you the right to be always ordering me about. Do you never allow anyone but yourself to have an opinion or a point of view? I am not one of your infantrymen, you know!’

Sandford, highly exasperated, glared down at her.

‘I am well aware of that fact,’ he said drily. ‘In the field one seldom has time for philosophical debate when decisions have to be made. I have learnt to deal with tricky situations in a straightforward manner, without unnecessary roundaboutation or fuss. I fail to see why you should find that so unacceptable.’

‘You may make your own decisions as much as you like,’ countered Harriet, her eyes kindling, ‘but please do not be forever making mine!’

With which remark she turned on her heel and walked quickly back to the house, leaving Sandford wondering, in baffled uncertainty, if this scheme of his mother’s was going to be such a good idea, after all.

Sighing, he watched Harriet climb the terrace steps and disappear from his view. He hoped that Lady Caroline and Judith had, by now, left the dining-room, as the girl’s singular return would certainly cause a raised eyebrow if witnessed. He hesitated, and then resignedly followed after her.

The room was, in fact, empty when Harriet entered and she stood undecided for a moment, having had time to give some thought to her hasty retreat, and was just about to retrace her steps when Sandford reappeared.

‘If I have offended you,’ he said, stiffly correct, ‘I must apologise. It was certainly not my intention to override your wishes …’

‘No, sir, if you please,’ Harriet intervened in breathless haste. ‘The fault is mine. I—often have—difficulty in curbing my—impetuosity. Father always warned it would lead me to disaster and he was right. It so often does. I beg your pardon, my lord. I shall try to behave as you suggest.’

She looked so much like a penitent child as she stood before him with her eyes cast down that Sandford felt a sudden urge to hold her in his arms. With an effort he turned away and walked to the doorway.

‘Then let us consider the subject closed,’ he shot over his shoulder as he went out. It appears that the little termagant has learnt her lesson, he thought, with a slightly bemused frown, ‘Perhaps we should go and join the ladies?’

Arrogant beast, thought Harriet, immediately regretting her offer of apology but, since no other course of action was open to her, she gritted her teeth and, resolving to try to be on her best behaviour, she reluctantly followed him from the room.

In spite of this somewhat inauspicious start, it did not take Harriet long to find that she really enjoyed Judith Hurst’s company, although the young widow was several years older than herself. She admired Judith for the stalwart way in which she had coped at the loss of her beloved husband, remembering sadly that her own mother had not done as well in her grief. Judith seemed truly happy at the news of Sandford’s impending marriage and, eager to be involved in introducing Harriet to the local society, at once offered to hold a small party at Westpark House in honour of the engagement. Since Lady Caroline felt that the earl’s frail condition must restrict any immediate gathering at Beldale, she readily agreed and, having already taken Harriet’s wardrobe requirements into her stride, she was satisfied that her protégée would bring nothing but credit to the family.

Sandford himself had picked out a frisky mare for his betrothed, for he was quite sure that she would be a good horsewoman after her years in Spain, and the first time he tossed her up into the saddle he was gratified to see how capably her hands controlled the prancing bay.

Harriet’s eyes had lit up with joy at the sight of the mare, for she was agog to explore the grounds, having waited impatiently for her riding habit to be delivered. Madame Armande had excelled herself in the swift execution of the brandy-coloured outfit, trimmed with military frogging of gold lace down the front of the jacket, along with a pert little shako complete with its own cockade of bronze feathers. Sandford was more than satisfied with Harriet’s appearance as they set out on their first visit to Westpark.

They rode through a wooded spinney along the bridleway that joined the two properties and the viscount pointed out various landmarks, which would help her should Harriet choose to visit Judith on her own. When they reached the area where his father had been thrown from his horse, Sandford related the groom’s description of the accident.

‘I still cannot see why he should have fallen at this spot,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘He is fairly lucid now and continues to maintain that something caused his horse to go down, but I have scoured the area and can find nothing untoward. He does not recollect seeing an animal on the path or hearing anyone in the vicinity, but swears that Cobalt went down all of a sudden …’

‘Perhaps he got a flint in his foot?’ suggested Harriet. ‘I have seen horses go down in that way. And you say that Cobalt was a veteran—did he suffer from a rheumatic condition which might have caused his legs to fold?’

Sandford considered. ‘Smithers didn’t mention it, but it is possible.’ He studied her curiously. ‘You seem to know a great deal about horses,’ he said.

Harriet gave a wry smile. ‘For a girl, you mean. You are forgetting that I practically grew up in the cavalry,’ she replied. ‘Being an infantryman, you had only your own string with which to concern yourself, but we had to be horse doctors as well as soldiers, you know.’

She pulled ahead of him as the path narrowed and he was obliged, for the moment, to ride behind her in silence which, as well as preventing him from uttering an indignant rebuttal, gave him ample opportunity both to admire her straight back and elegant posture and to think better of his intended remark.

The bridleway from Beldale opened out through a wide-barred gate into a clearing and Sandford indicated the Westpark gate on the other side of the meadow.

‘This is the short cut that the two families use,’ he said. ‘Carriages have to go round by the lane, of course, which adds five miles to the trip.’

Harriet gauged the distance across the field. ‘Race you,’ she offered, and was off like an arrow before he had time to reply.

‘Watch out for rabbit holes!’ he shouted and was after her in a trice, but she had the advantage and reached the far side ahead of him. He reined in beside her, his face wreathed in smiles. Harriet’s face was bright with the exhilaration of the gallop and her green eyes were sparkling with delight as she looked at him.

‘She’s a beauty! Thank you so much for letting me use her,’ she said, as she patted the mare’s neck fondly. ‘Clipper! What a fitting name for her.’

‘I’m glad you approve. You ride very well—and don’t say ‘'for a girl'', for I’m sure I don’t mean to minimise your ability. Only, next time, give me fair warning before you challenge me!’

‘Oh, I’d hardly take on that boy of yours in fair play,’ she laughed. ‘I believe in the element of surprise, your lordship. I’m amazed you never encountered the strategy in your battles!’

‘Oh, I encountered it, all right, Miss Cleverboots,’ he laughed, leaning down to close the gate behind them. ‘Now I shall be on my guard—just make sure that you are, also!’

They rode on, side by side, exchanging similar persiflage until they eventually turned into the stableyard at Westpark House, where their horses were handed to the grooms and they entered the house by the rear doors.

‘We got into the habit of doing this,’ said Sandford, as he ushered Harriet through the entrance. ‘Lady Butler doesn’t approve, of course, but Phil and I always found it more convenient …’ He paused, then continued, ‘… this passage leads into the main hall. The staff will already have been notified of our arrival.’

He pushed open a green baize door and nodded to the waiting footman.

‘Good morning, Finchley. Mrs Hurst is expecting us. Is she in the small parlour?’

The elderly manservant nodded disapprovingly. ‘Yes, my lord,’ he intoned gravely, as he led the way and showed them into a cheerful sitting-room where Judith was to be found playing spillikins with her two children while her mother was half-heartedly attending to the tapestry on her fulsome lap.

At the footman’s announcement, Judith rose gracefully and came towards them, hands outstretched.

‘Oh, you came! I’m so pleased. Look, Mother. Robert has brought Miss Cordell to visit us—and what a stunning outfit, I do declare. Do sit down, won’t you? Shall I have Finchley bring in some tea—or would you prefer coffee?’

Sandford was already engaged in the game with his niece and nephew and declined refreshment. Harriet, having accepted a glass of lemonade, seated herself opposite the elderly Lady Butler and asked her politely how she did.

‘I must not complain,’ said her ladyship, pulling her copious shawls about her ample shoulders more snugly, although the day was warm and humid. ‘One is beset by so many aches and pains. But I have learned to bear my discomforts with fortitude.’

She leaned forward, peering closely at Harriet. ‘You are very young, to be sure. Just out of the schoolroom, I suppose. Do your parents allow you to travel about the countryside without a chaperon? In my day it would have been unheard of.’

Harriet laughed. ‘I am not as young as I look, ma’am,’ she said, ‘and I disremember ever having been in a schoolroom. And as for a chaperon, you must agree that Sandford will serve?’

The old lady sniffed. ‘I’m told you met Robert while he was off fighting—a camp-follower, or some such, I hear.’

Sandford stiffened and raised his startled eyes to meet Harriet’s. She, however, smiled and nodded her head at Lady Butler.

‘We certainly had to follow the camp, ma’am, but we were in excellent company. Several of their lordships’ wives and daughters were with us, you know, and it was not fun and frolics quite all of the time!’

The viscount’s eyes gleamed with amusement, then became more serious as he intervened.

‘Hardly any of the time, actually,’ he said, getting up from the floor, ‘and as for camp-followers, ma’am, we would have been hard pressed, at times, to manage without their assistance. I must inform you, ma’am, that Miss Cordell’s father was a courageous comrade of mine and her mother was well respected for her voluntary tending of the wounded.’

‘Oh, do not start to discuss these unsavoury matters again, I beg you.’ Lady Butler shuddered, reaching for her vinaigrette and breathing in some of its heady contents. ‘Tell me instead of your father. First we are told he is at death’s door and now he is quite recovered, I hear? I would that I were blessed with such stamina! What a pity Hurst did not have his father’s constitution!’

Sandford winced as he answered, ‘Beldale is getting stronger by the hour. Sir Basil hopes that he will be able to come downstairs in a few days but I am afraid that he will be unable to attend Judith’s party next week. We are looking forward to it, of course,’ he finished, gamely attempting a show of enthusiasm.

‘Well, it will be a great deal of trouble to arrange, you know, at such short notice, but I am sure we shall try to put on a creditable show. Why it cannot have waited until Lady Caroline could see to it herself, I cannot imagine.’

She folded her untouched Berlin-work and rose to her feet.

‘Now, if you will excuse me, I suppose I must see Mrs Walters about the menus.’ She trod majestically across the room and left.

There was a moment’s silence then Judith laughed, a little self-consciously.

‘I hope she does not do such a thing! Mrs Walters would faint from astonishment! Take no notice, Robert, dear. You know how Mama is. I am sure that she means no harm.’

Sandford doubted this, but let it go. ‘If this party affair is going to cause you a lot of trouble …’ he said hopefully, but Judith looked shocked.

‘Trouble? I’m looking forward to it. I have been in mourning for a whole year now, Robert, and this is the first time we will have had any sort of gathering at Westpark since Philip’s—funeral—and you know he would not have wanted it so!’

Gathering up the skirts of her black bombazine gown, she began to pirouette around the room, much to little Elspeth’s delight.

‘Shall we have dancing, do you think? A few country reels, perhaps?’ She stopped, flushed prettily and sat down once more beside Harriet. ‘What shall you wear, Miss Cordell—oh! Do say I may call you Harriet! I have a gown I have never yet worn. I think it may be just the occasion to bring it out!’

Having only recently come out of mourning herself, Harriet could sympathise with the young widow’s feelings and, happy to defer to her hostess’s obvious knowledge of what was fashionable and what was not, she was quite amenable to hear Judith’s suggestions. She could see that Sandford seemed perfectly content to be entertained by the two children. He pored over Christopher’s snail-shell collection with apparent fascination and even helped his little niece to fasten a miniature cape around her beloved doll, with no sign of the self-conscious reticence she expected from most members of his sex when confronted with young children. She noticed, too, that Judith was viewing the scene with a certain fondness and wondered if, perhaps, her own unexpected appearance had interrupted a blossoming relationship between Sandford and his sister-in-law. Judith’s words, however, dispelled that thought.

‘He is so like Philip,’ she said tremulously, bright tears shining in her eyes. ‘They do miss him so. Robert has been absolutely marvellous with them and given them so much of his time.’

‘I’m sure he loves them dearly.’ Harriet laid her hand on Judith’s. ‘And who would not. They are such sweetly behaved children. Lady Caroline has said that they are a credit to both their parents. She dotes on Elspeth, as you must know.’

Judith nodded, composing herself. ‘We were very happy together, Philip and I. I do so wish the same joy for you and Robert. I was afraid he would never meet anyone. He was always so involved with his regiment that it seemed to me that he had no sort of social life at all. You should have known him when he was a boy—he was quite the young tearaway!’

‘Do I hear my character being demolished over there?’ came Sandford’s amused voice. ‘I hope you are not about to apprise Miss Cordell of my youthful misdemeanours, Judith. I have worked very hard to gain her approbation, I assure you, and if you are set on ruining all my efforts …’

Both ladies burst out laughing and, seeing Sandford reach for his hat and gloves, Judith rose to see them to the door. Elspeth curtsied shyly to Harriet while Christopher begged his uncle to ‘come again soon'. The viscount assured him that he would be over to take him riding the following day and the little boy was allowed to lead the visitors back to the rear exit.

‘Grandmama says you shouldn’t use this door,’ he confided, as they walked out into the stableyard, ‘but Papa and

I always did and, as I am now the man of this house, I give you both my permission.’

Sandford took his nephew’s proffered hand and inclined his head. ‘We are pleased to be so honoured, Christopher,’ he said gravely.

Harriet nodded smilingly, adding, ‘And thank you for including me.’

The little boy was puzzled. ‘But you are to be one of the family now, aren’t you? Mama said …’ He looked from one to the other.

Sandford laughed and clapped him gently on the shoulder. ‘Absolutely right, dear fellow!’ he breezed. ‘And do you approve of your new aunt? She’s a cracking good rider, let me tell you!’

Christopher was suitably impressed. In his opinion girls couldn’t really ride, having such stupid saddles to contend with but, if his Uncle Robert said his fiancée was good then, by golly, she must be and that made her fine by him. He watched as Sandford helped Harriet mount, then ran, waving farewell to them as they rode off.

‘They are such lovely people—your brother’s family,’ commented Harriet, as they crossed the meadow to the Beldale estate. ‘What a terrible tragedy that he will never see his children grow up. Judith has been so brave in her loss. Am I correct in thinking that Lady Butler cannot have been much help or comfort at the time?’

‘None at all, I understand from my mother. She took to her bed with ‘'the vapours'', which caused poor Judith even more distress and then she had the gall to preside over the funeral reception wearing black veils and so on. We have very little affection for her, I fear, but she is Judith’s mother and grandmother to Philip’s children so one must endure her remarks. I have to congratulate you on your forbearance. Another of your famous strategies, I deduce?’

‘Just ‘'getting over the heavy ground as lightly as possible” as they used to say,’ said Harriet, her face wreathed in smiles at his compliment.

‘A veritable fund of manoeuvres! I can see I shall have to be careful not to join battle with you,’ he chaffed laughingly.

Fencing companionably in this manner, they rode on for some minutes until a shout from the trees caused them to turn their heads. A horseman appeared on the track ahead of them and a cheerful voice called, ‘Home then, Sandford? I’m very glad to see you back. And with a betrothal, I hear. Do I get an introduction?’

The rider was a comely, well-built man dressed in leather jerkin and riding breeches. Sandford greeted him with pleasure and presented him to Harriet as his cousin, Charles Ridgeway.

Ridgeway, as Harriet had already learned from her conversations with Lady Caroline, was estate manager of both Westpark House and Beldale. He lived with his mother, the earl’s sister, in the Dower House of the Beldale estate, his own family residence having been sold off many years ago to meet his impecunious father’s debts. Baron Ridgeway, having gambled away his wife’s fortune, had finally taken his own life when his son was still a schoolboy, leaving them both penniless and, eventually, homeless had it not been for her brother’s affection and generosity. The earl had given his sister, Lady Eugenie, lifetime tenancy of the Dower House, along with a generous annuity, as well as funding his nephew’s remaining education. When Charles had expressed an interest in land management the earl had arranged for him to work alongside Baxter, his own elderly manager and, upon that worthy’s retirement, had handed the office to his nephew. Philip Hurst had also trusted Ridgeway’s judgement and had offered his cousin the same post at Westpark. The twins had grown up alongside Charles, of course, he being some six or seven years their senior. He had never married and, although both Sandford and his brother had frequently maintained that Judith Butler had always been the object of his youthful affection, he had never once, during all the years of his employment, treated her with anything but gentle courtesy and respect. After Philip’s carriage accident Ridgeway had taken on without complaint the extra load his young master’s death had inevitably caused and now, with the earl himself indisposed, his working days were longer still and he was not sorry to see Sandford home again.

‘Your servant, ma’am,’ he said, smiling as he bent over her hand. ‘You will not regret your choice of husband. After his father, Sandford is the finest man I know.’

‘Steady on, old chap!’ Sandford protested. ‘Not quite in the old man’s league, I fear!’

‘True,’ acknowledged his cousin, laughing, ‘but you are getting there. I have heard about some of your exploits in Spain, you know, in spite of your efforts to keep them secret. Jimmy Braithwaite’s boys came home last month and were full of stories they had heard about you.’

‘Mostly exaggerated and of no account, I assure you! These things tend to get blown up out of all proportion. I only did what other fellows were doing all around me.’

‘And that was hardly of no account!’ interjected Harriet hotly. ‘His lordship’s exploits were well known when I myself was out there, Mr Ridgeway, so allow me to vouch for the truth of the stories!’

Charles Ridgeway laughed. ‘Well, Robert, it’s clear that your young lady will defend your achievements for you, however much you care to deny them—which is just as it should be, of course.’ He wheeled his horse round and turned to go. ‘When you can spare an hour—I must talk to you about the bottom fences. They need replacing—oh!— and Potter’s cottage caught fire last week. He’s staying with his daughter at the moment, but we really need to discuss the whole row—when you’re ready, of course.’ He saluted them both with his crop and cantered back into the spinney.

Sandford waited until his cousin was out of sight before turning his head to Harriet.

‘Whilst I recognise your need to defend our military exploits, Miss Cordell,’ he said, as they continued along the bridleway, ‘I feel I must point out to you that most of our countrymen have no real comprehension of what went on over there. I, myself, have increasingly found that is not a popular topic in polite society and you have already seen how eager certain people might be to place the wrong interpretation on your presence in the train. I would not want you to be embarrassed …’

‘Oh, pooh to such people!’ interrupted Harriet. ‘You cannot think that I am ashamed to have been with the army! You, of all people! You know that most of the women were wives of the soldiers and spent their time cooking and foraging for their menfolk. The few others I saw were usually local girls and very choosy, so I’m told!’

Sandford raised his brows, stifling his laughter. ‘You shouldn’t have been told any such thing. I’m surprised your mother allowed such a conversation.’

‘Oh, don’t be so stuffy! When we were surrounded by death and injury! Some of the men behaved appallingly, it’s true, but hadn’t they good reason, at times? Papa never condoned their behaviour when they went to extremes, but he did understand the cause. Most of them will never come home,’ she finished sadly.

‘Nevertheless,’ counselled the viscount, after a pause, ‘none of this is deemed to be a fitting subject for polite conversation and I must recommend that you endeavour to steer clear of it, if at all possible.’

He had not enjoyed listening to Lady Butler’s attempts at giving Harriet one of her infamous set-downs, especially as the girl had won the field on this occasion. From past experience he knew that the older woman would try to find new ways of discomfiting her because there were few things she enjoyed more. Judith’s party would provide Lady Butler with an excellent opportunity, he reasoned, and was determined to do his best to safeguard Harriet against public calumny.

‘As you wish, my lord,’ said Harriet in a small voice, her shoulders drooping. What a pompous prig the hero had turned out to be, she thought in dismay, and wondered if, after all, some of the tales of his exploits had been embellished.

They rode in silence once more, each absorbed in private reflections and, upon entering the house, Sandford excused himself from Harriet, saying that he would go straight up to his father before changing.

Harriet went to her own room where Rose was waiting to help her undress. The girl had laid out one of the new dresses, which had been delivered during her mistress’s absence, and Harriet was delighted with the pretty, soft green muslin, its short puffed sleeves just right for the warm afternoon. Rose tied the matching sash high above her young mistress’s waist, as was the prevailing fashion, and adjusted the tiny frill that edged the low neckline.

‘I hear tell that some of the young ladies do damp their dresses to make them cling to their bodies!’ she marvelled, as she knelt to tie the strings on Harriet’s slippers. ‘And they don’t always wear a petticoat either!’

‘I don’t think I should care for such a fashion.’ Harriet assured her. ‘This dress is very pretty as it is, don’t you think? Is there an evening gown amongst the others? Madame said that it would be ready in time for Mrs Hurst’s party.’

Rose showed her the rest of the deliveries, which did, indeed, include the gown for Judith’s party. This was a simple but elegant tunic in a sea-green shot silk, which was to be worn over a white satin slip. Harriet’s eyes shone with delight when she saw it, immediately taken with its clean-cut shaping, for she was not a girl who cared for too many frills and flounces in her clothes.

‘There’s slippers to match too, miss,’ Rose indicated. ‘ ‘Tis a pity that you had to leave your jewel-case behind, for a necklace would make all the difference.’

Harriet did not reply. She was beginning to feel somewhat concerned about her increasing indebtedness to her hosts and wondered when she would be in a position to repay them. She hoped that her grandfather would soon be in touch with instructions for her to be sent to him at once as she was still most uncomfortable about the role she had agreed to undertake. A lot of good people were being deceived, she reflected, and was sorry that Judith and her children should be amongst these for she felt that she could easily become very fond of them. Even Sandford’s company was surprisingly bearable when he refrained from telling her what she could or could not do, she mused, and she was smiling at the memory of the cheerful raillery they had exchanged during their morning ride when there came a tap at the door.

‘His lordship wishes to speak to Miss Cordell if she could spare him a moment.’

Harriet heard March deliver his message and rose at once to her feet. Now what had she done? she wondered, casting about in her mind for possible aberrations as she hurried downstairs to find the viscount waiting in the small salon.

‘How very prompt,’ he said, surprising her by turning with a smile as she entered. ‘Father has expressed a desire to meet you—he knows your story, of course, and he also knew your grandparents in his youth. Do you feel up to it?’ He looked at her anxiously.

‘But, of course.’ Harriet’s eyes sparkled. ‘I’d love to meet Lord William. Are you sure he is well enough for a visitor?’

‘He maintains that he is well enough to look at a pretty face,’ Sandford said cheerfully, as they made their way upstairs. ‘He is keen to see if Mother’s description of your likeness to your grandmother is justified.’

At Sandford’s gentle scratch, Chegwin opened the door of the Earl’s chamber and placed his finger against his lips to urge their silence.

‘His lordship has fallen asleep again, sir,’ he whispered, as he ushered them to his master’s bedside. ‘But he left instructions that you were to remain until he awakes—he drowses off on account of the medicine, but seems anxious to speak with you, my lord.’

His eyes were troubled as they fixed upon the earl’s sleeping form. Harriet, too, stared concernedly at the pale and lined features of the white-haired old man in the bed.

Sandford led her to a chair by the bedside and seated himself opposite. Together they watched the shallow but steady rise and fall of the bedcovers at the earl’s chest. Harriet felt unaccountable tears pricking her eyelids as she studied the viscount’s father. How alike they are, she thought in a flash; the same aristocratic bone structure, straight nose, high cheekbones, firm chin—even in repose. Were his eyes that same clear grey? she wondered, and almost jumped out of her skin when, as if in answer to her question, Beldale’s eyes opened and were staring at her intently.

‘Don’t weep, girl, I’m not gone yet,’ came a gruff voice and a hand crept out of the covers to take hers. She held it firmly between both her own and smiled, a gentle flush staining her cheeks.

‘And very pleased I am to hear it, sir,’ she replied softly. ‘Did we disturb you?’

‘No, my dear, I was waiting for you, but this infernal laudanum keeps dragging me off to sleep—do better without it.’ He glared balefully at his manservant, who regarded him fondly in return.

‘Bring a light, man. I want to see the girl properly!’

Although it was daylight the heavy curtains were drawn to keep out the sunshine, making the room quite dark. Chegwin lifted a branch from the dresser and held it aloft so that Harriet’s face was bathed in its pool of candlelight. The old man contemplated her steadily for several minutes, his eyes faded but indubitably grey, and she felt no embarrassment at his scrutiny.

Sandford grinned, feeling a surge of respect at such composure. ‘Well, sir? And do you approve?’

Beldale gently squeezed Harriet’s hand. ‘Very fetching, my boy,’ he said. ‘Your mama was right—image of her grandmother—glad you found her, Sandford—made her ladyship very happy.’ His voice faded, then his eyes flashed wide open once more. ‘Keep your guard up, Robert—just remembered—something—happened …’ His head drooped back on to the pillows and Sandford started up in alarm, but Chegwin put his hand on the viscount’s arm and steadied him.

‘He’s all right, sir,’ he said. ‘Keeps dropping off like that. Needs the stuff for the pain, you see. Leave him to me, if you please, sir—and ma’am.’

He bowed towards Harriet who, seeing Sandford’s agitation, had immediately risen from her own chair but, at the sight of the tears in his eyes, had swiftly bent to tidy the covers over Beldale’s recumbent form.

‘I know you’ll take good care of him, Chegwin.’ Sand-ford’s voice held a tremor but, straightening his shoulders, he held out his hand to Harriet and escorted her from the room.

Downstairs, Lady Caroline was waiting in the small dining-room as the dishes were being brought in. They took their places at the table and she signalled to Rothman to begin serving.

‘His lordship seems so much better, don’t you agree?’ she applied hopefully to her son. ‘Sir Basil thinks to reduce the medication tomorrow—it has been over a week since his fall.’

Sandford nodded. ‘He will be relieved to be off the drug—he dislikes taking it, I know. It seems to make him ramble somewhat, too. I remember having to take it myself on one occasion and had the most awful hallucinations. I’m sure he will be better without it.’

The meal progressed through the various courses, during which Lady Caroline, eyes twinkling at her son, inquired as to the success of their visit to Westpark. Harriet, after describing Judith’s plans for the forthcoming assembly, thanked the countess for the garments that had been delivered in their absence, expressing her particular delight with the green silk gown intended for the party and it was in a happy, friendly mood that they all repaired to the salon afterwards, with Sandford opting to take his brandy with the ladies and the evening being rounded off with some rousing games of piquet.

The following day the viscount rode over to Westpark, as he had promised, to take his nephew out riding. Harriet spent part of the morning with the earl, at his request. He was more lucid than he had been on her previous visit and had expressed a desire to hear her story first-hand. He, in turn, was able to tell her more of her family’s history and Chegwin was very satisfied to hear, more than once, the sounds of stifled laughter issuing from his master’s bedside.

When Harriet rose to leave, having judged that his lordship was beginning to tire, the manservant accompanied her to the door with a smile, saying, ‘This has done him a deal of good, miss, if I may say so. He will sleep naturally this afternoon, I feel sure.’

Finding that Lady Caroline was engaged with the housekeeper, Harriet decided to take herself for a walk down to the lakeside, where she hoped that the air would be fresher. The day was warm and very humid and, having been cooped up in Lord William’s darkened rooms for some time, she felt that she needed the exercise. She walked sedately across the sweeping stretches of the rear lawns until she was sure she was out of sight of the windows then, running and skipping with pleasure, she reached the waterside.

The lake had been sunk many years previously and its banks were quite steep in parts. Both willow and aspen straddled the water’s edge and bulrushes grew in profusion. A small pavilion was situated on an island in the middle of the lake. This was reached, as far as Harriet could tell, by the rowing-boat that she could see tied up outside a boathouse on the far side of the lake and she began to make her way towards it along the path, which meandered around the lake.

Now shaded from the sun by the leafy branches of the trees on both sides of the path, she felt much cooler. Smiling at the sight of the mallard duck leading her almost-grown brood in stately procession across the water, she frequently strayed to investigate the various splashings and rustlings of other small water creatures exploring their habitat. These delays caused her to take much longer than she had intended but, when she eventually arrived at the boathouse, she was still determined to take just a little peek at the pavilion, judging that it would not take her many minutes to row the short distance to the island. She checked that the oars were in place and was beginning to untie the mooring-rope when she heard a cry. Startled, she looked around, fearing that she had, once more, broken some unwritten rule. The cry was repeated, this time louder and she realised that it was a cry of distress.

Someone was calling for help. Her eyes scoured the water and the banks, trying to identify the place from which the sound had come. Then she saw. A small boy, up to his waist in the water, was clinging to the roots of a willow tree that grew at the water’s edge. Picking up her skirts, she ran quickly along the path to the spot. She could see that the bank sloped steeply down into the murky water, which was thick with weeds. She could not tell how deep the water was at that point, but did not stop to consider it. Crawling on her knees, she edged her way downwards, stretching out a hand towards the grimy lad.

‘Reach forward,’ she said. ‘See if you can take my hand.’

‘Oh, miss—miss—I can’t do it,’ came the wailing reply. ‘I’m stuck fast in the mud.’

Harriet slithered further down, her hands on the roots of the tree and grabbed at the boy’s wrist. He suddenly jerked back and pulled himself away and, to her horror, disappeared beneath the surface. Scrabbling to regain her balance, she felt her body sliding sideways down the bank and, although she managed to keep hold of the tree root, she found herself up to her knees in the mud. Frantically, she looked about her for the child, who was nowhere to be seen, but a sudden sound from the water’s edge some distance to her right alerted her to the astonishing sight of a small, bedraggled figure climbing out of the lake and disappearing into the bushes.

‘What on earth … !’ Harriet exclaimed in rage, as she struggled to free herself, but, upon finding that her feeble attempts had merely caused her to lose one of her slippers, she held still and tried to apply her mind to her situation. Her feet were on firm enough ground as far as she could tell, but she could see nothing within her reach that would help her to extricate her legs from the mud’s tenacious grasp. She was eyeing the thin root she had managed to keep hold of, weighing up its ability to take any strain, when to her dismay she heard the sound of approaching hooves and then the unwelcome sight of the rider, Sandford himself, appeared on the path. He could not fail to observe her.

‘Good God!’ he exclaimed, reining in and leaping from his mount. ‘How has this happened? Here, take my hand …’ and, leaning his weight against the boll of the tree, he effortlessly hoisted Harriet to firm ground. She ignored the glimmer of laughter in his eyes as she tried, ineffectually, to sweep away the thick black mud from her clinging skirt.

‘You just can’t stay out of mischief, can you?’ he said, his grin widening.

‘This was not my doing,’ she said crossly. ‘Someone pulled me in. There was a young boy—I thought he was in trouble—but I slipped and he—he swam off and left me.’

Sandford regarded her with unconcealed amazement. ‘A boy? What boy?’ he said, looking about him.

Harriet stamped her unshod and mud-encrusted foot. ‘How dare you disbelieve me!’ she stormed. ‘I am not in the habit of telling lies! There was a boy, I tell you!’

Tears of fury began to prick her eyes, but she blinked them away and struck out at him with her muddied fists. He backed away quickly before she could touch him.

‘Whoa! Steady, there!’ He looked at her uncertainly. ‘We’d better get you back to the house before anyone sees you like that. Are you cold?’

Harriet shook her head, wearily controlling herself. ‘No, thank you. I will soon dry in the sun but—I have lost a slipper and it is a long walk back.’

‘I’m sure Pagan can cope,’ Sandford rejoined. Pulling a rolled-up blanket from his pannier, he wrapped it around her muddied skirts and proceeded to lift her effortlessly on to his saddle.

How tiny her waist is, he marvelled, holding her steadily as she attempted to find her balance. His senses quickened as he felt the vibrant warmth of her body through the thin muslin fabric. Warning signs immediately flashed in his brain. Abruptly, he withdrew his hold.

‘All set?’ he asked, with apparent cheerful unconcern. ‘See if you can steady yourself against the pommel. Hang on to Pagan’s mane.’

Harriet complied with his instructions in silence. Assuming that the viscount would climb up behind her, a mounting sensation of breathless confusion gripped her at the thought of the necessarily close physical contact.

Sandford had intended to ride with her but, for some unfathomable reason, now found that he was unable to trust himself with her tantalising nearness. He hesitated momentarily, then gathered the horse’s reins in his hands. ‘I’ll lead him in,’ he said, still feeling somewhat shaken. With a slight frown on his face he started back towards the house.

Harriet registered his hesitation and her heart seemed to shrivel, overwhelmed by feelings of humiliation and rejection. With difficulty she repressed these emotions as she tried to apply her concentration to keeping her seat and her replies to Sandford’s searching questions became curt and, for the most part, monosyllabic.

Sandford led his horse into the stableyard and Tiptree came running at the sound of his master’s voice. His eyebrows shot up at the sight of the dishevelled figure being helped down from Sandford’s mount, but he said nothing as he took the reins and the mud-stained blanket from the viscount.

‘Don’t put him away,’ Sandford instructed. ‘I shall need him again. Get Thunder saddled for yourself. I’ll be back presently.’ He escorted Harriet through the rear of the house to the foot of the staff staircase.

‘Come up this way,’ he said. ‘The kitchen staff will be at lunch. I’ll head off anyone who appears.’

Harriet reached her room unobserved and, as soon as she had closed the door behind her, she slumped down on to the nearest chair, regardless of the mess she was making, for she was utterly chagrined. What else could go wrong? she wondered. The morning had started so well and she had enjoyed her time with Beldale. The lakeside walk had been so pleasant until that incident. A puzzled frown creased her forehead. What was the meaning of it? It was no accident, of that she was convinced, but could see no point in what had occurred. Just a malicious prank? But, to what purpose? And, more infuriating, why had Sandford dismissed her story out of hand? Oh, if only her grandfather would reply to Lady Caroline’s letter! Harriet felt that she could no longer remain at Beldale under such a cloud and wondered if she could confide her troubles to Judith Hurst. In spite of Sandford’s instructions she was tempted to ask her new friend’s advice should a suitable opportunity arise.

During the next few days Harriet did her utmost to avoid Sandford’s company. She spent much of her time with the earl, who enjoyed her pretty attentions and was making steady progress towards a full recovery. She managed to take one or two rides about the park and to visit Judith, but only when she was sure that Sandford was elsewhere. She was obliged to take her meals with him, of course, but made sure she had a fund of Lord William’s stories to relate to the countess so that it became unnecessary to hold a separate conversation with the viscount. Sandford himself appeared not to notice her evasive behaviour and, in any event, always seemed deeply preoccupied with estate business. To Harriet’s relief, he made no further reference to the lake incident. Harriet had decided not to tell her hostess the full story of her misadventure, merely saying that she had slipped on the bank whilst trying to untie the boat. Lady Caroline had, at first, been rather shocked that Harriet had not asked a manservant to row her to the pavilion, then she had laughed and said, ‘You modern young ladies! You have so much more freedom than we did in my day. I envy you, I do truly!’ And the matter was forgotten.

At last the letter for which Harriet had been praying arrived. Rothman delivered it to her ladyship at the breakfast-table and the countess broke open the seal eagerly.

‘How quickly he has replied,’ she said, as she scanned the contents. ‘Yes, he says he has written at once—you are to remain with us—he is actually coming to fetch you himself! He says he is overjoyed—and forever in our debt—what nonsense—but how sweet! Oh, my dear! Your troubles will soon be over!’ She placed the missive into Harriet’s trembling hand. ‘There, my child. You may read it for yourself. Your grandfather will be with us in no time at all if all goes well with his travel arrangements,’ and, turning to Sandford, she said, ‘Isn’t this happy news, Robert? Ramsey will surely come to his granddaughter’s rescue now that he knows her whereabouts, don’t you think?’

Sandford nodded, but did not reply. He felt a sudden lowering of spirit for which he could not account and stared moodily across the table at Harriet, but she was still deeply engrossed in her grandfather’s words. Excusing himself, he quickly finished his coffee and left the room.

‘We must go and tell Beldale the good news,’ said the countess. ‘He will be so happy for you—and glad to see Ramsey again, I dare say—if only to compare the wrinkles!’

Harriet laughed joyfully. She was feeling euphoric, hardly believing that her dream was finally about to become a reality. How long would it take her grandfather to travel to Beldale? Two weeks, perhaps. She could surely hold out until then, now that she knew he was actually coming. Then she was struck by a sudden thought.

‘But—Judith’s party?’ she inquired of the Countess. ‘We must inform her before it is too late to cancel. It will not be necessary to pretend an engagement now, surely?’

Lady Caroline hesitated on the stairway, considering the problem.

‘On balance, my dear,’ she said at last, ‘I think it would be wiser to wait until your grandfather arrives—supposing he were delayed? Remember that we conjured up the plan in order to prevent unsavoury gossip. It is still the best protection we can offer you until he comes. Judith’s guests will have seen the notice in the Mercury and it will not do to start up a hive of speculation so soon after the announcement. Don’t worry, dear child. It’s only a small local party, after all.’

And with this she continued up the stairs.

Harriet was perturbed, but did not mention the subject again. She knew that the countess had gone to considerable trouble to keep other members of the family away from Beldale House, using Lord William’s indisposition as an excuse even to her own two daughters, who had been besieging her with requests to visit their father. Harriet had been relieved to learn that she was not expected to come under Sandford’s sisters’ scrutiny, as she doubted that her acting ability would pass muster under such close inspection. Casual observation by a few local families at a small houseparty would be much less of a trial, she decided. She determined to put away her fears and do her best to look forward to the forthcoming assembly, reasoning that Sandford was unlikely to accord her anything other than the devoted attentions of the newly engaged man he was supposed to be, especially since the plan seemed to have been concocted with his approval. After that, as far as she was concerned, he could please himself!