Читать книгу A Companion Of Quality - Nicola Cornick, Nicola Cornick - Страница 7

“Pray be careful with those curling tongs, Caroline!” Julia Chessford said fretfully, moving her head to one side to admire the fall of golden ringlets about her shoulders. “I declare, you are as ham-fisted as a scullery-maid!”

Caroline resisted an immediate urge to press the hot tongs against Julia’s ear. “I fear I am no turn at these matters, not being a trained ladies’ maid,” she said evenly. “It is unfortunate that you gave Letty the evening off—”

“Oh, the worst chance imaginable!” Julia agreed, smiling as she considered her reflection in the mirror. “But how was I to know that Lewis would choose this of all days to return home? Such bad luck quite oversets one’s plans, but we must make shift as best we can! Do hurry, Caroline! We are to dine in ten minutes!”

Caroline moved across to the closet to fetch Julia’s wrap, watching as her former friend stood up and turned around slowly to consider her appearance. There was no denying that Julia looked very beautiful. She had huge blue eyes that gave a misleading impression of sweetness and innocence, and the thick golden hair curled lusciously about her rounded face. Her lips were a perfect bow shape, her nose small and straight. Caroline, blessed with a set of features that were less regular, tried to repress her envy. She would not have exchanged her own informed mind for Julia’s less enquiring one at any price, but sometimes she could not help coveting Julia’s beauty.

“That will do very well,” Julia said with a little, self-satisfied smile. “I am sure Lewis will scarce be able to resist! After all, he has been away at sea a long time and must be delighted to gain some female companionship!”

Once again, Caroline felt the sharp, irrational pang of jealousy. Judging by Lewis Brabant’s behaviour in the woods, she thought that Julia was probably right.

“Miss Brabant told me that Richard Slater has a sister,” she heard herself saying, “so no doubt the Captain has had time to polish his address in Lyme before coming here!”

Julia gave her a sharp glare. “I have met Fanny Slater, Caroline, and I do not think I need consider her a rival!” She smoothed the silk of her skirts with a loving hand. “No indeed, she is a plain woman and has no conversation! And Lewis has already given the impression that he is more than glad to see me again…”

Caroline turned away to hide her face, busying herself by straightening the pots and bottles on Julia’s dressing-table. The room, decorated with swathes of pink satin and spindly white furniture, was a shrine to Julia’s beauty.

“You are in earnest then, Julia? You wish to rekindle your romance with Captain Brabant?”

Julia shrugged carelessly. “La, why not? It should provide some fun in this tediously dull place! Besides,” she gave Caroline a sparkling look, “Lewis is rather attractive, is he not? He has changed since I met him last and I believe he could be quite a challenge! What do you think, Caroline?”

“I have no idea,” Caroline said sharply, bringing forward Julia’s wrap. “I am not accustomed to considering gentlemen in such way!”

“La, I should think not!” Julia’s gaze was faintly malicious as it swept over her companion. “That would be most inappropriate for a governess and could lead to all manner of difficulties! You will not be dining with us tonight,” she continued, taking the wrap without a word of thanks. “You may take a tray in your room, Caroline. It is bad enough having to share Lewis’s homecoming with that little milksop of a sister of his, without augmenting our party further!”

She let the wrap slide over her white arms and sighed. “Lord, it is so slow living in the country! Now that Lewis is back I hope for some more invitations! I am sure that the Percevals will call, and perhaps even the Cleeves—did I tell you that I met the Countess in Town last year, Caroline, and she was most gracious to me! And now that we are neighbours…”

Caroline let the words flow over her head. She had heard quite enough of Julia’s social pretensions in the last few weeks. The Cleeve and Perceval families had shown no inclination for a closer friendship with their neighbours at Hewly. They had been perfectly cordial on the few occasions that Julia and Caroline had encountered them in Abbot Quincey, but no invitations to visit had followed. When Julia had decided to call at Jaffrey House and Perceval Hall, the ladies were apparently not at home. Caroline had seen this as an unmistakable snub, but Julia had shrugged it off airily and persisted in her belief that they would all become great friends in time. For her part, Caroline suspected that the great families of the neighbourhood probably considered Julia encroaching and bad Ton, or even worse, not Ton at all.

“Speaking of the local aristocracy, I heard such a truly diverting piece of gossip this morning, Caro!” Julia spun round to fix her companion with bright, gleeful eyes. “Only guess what has happened!”

Caroline bit her lip. “I am sure that you will tell me—”

“Oh, you are so stuffy, pretending to a lack of interest! This is the most prime piece of news! The butcher’s boy brought the story from the village—the on dit is that the Marchioness of Sywell has run away!”

Caroline stared. She remembered the notorious Marquis of Sywell from her time at the Guarding Academy, for his debauchery and wickedness had been a byword in the Abbey villages. Scarce a week had passed without his depravity being denounced in the local pulpits, rousing much speculation amongst the young ladies of the school as to the precise nature of the Marquis’s iniquity. Once she had left the school, Caroline had gradually lost touch with the gossip of Steep Abbot and its environs, but on her return, Julia had been quick to update her on all of consequence. She had related the tale of the Marquis’s ramshackle marriage with great excitement, but Caroline, deploring tittle-tattle, had not paid attention to half of it. Now it seemed that an even greater scandal had followed.

“The Marchioness?” Caroline said slowly. “But surely you told me that they have been married for less than a year—”

Julia clapped her hands. “I know! Is it not piquant! They said it would all end in tears, what with him being mad and thrice her age, and she being the strange creature she is!”

Caroline sat down on the end of the bed. “Was she strange? I had not heard so—”

“Oh Caro, you must have heard the old story!” Julia looked eager. There was nothing she liked more than some scurrilous tale. “Surely I told you already! The Marchioness was ward to the Abbey bailiff—or the bailiff’s by-blow, more like! Do you not remember? John Hanslope went off in his cart one day and returned with a child! He said she was his ward and his wife educated her at home, for she had been a governess like yourself! We never saw hair nor hide of the girl—she never came into the village, or visited their neighbours, and you must concede that that is odd!”

Julia paused to adjust the bandeau restraining her curls, then resumed. “I suppose you would not remember the chit’s arrival, for it was just after your papa died and you had left Mrs Guarding’s Academy. But surely I wrote to tell you all about it? I would certainly have written to relate so choice a piece of news!”

“I am sure you would,” Caroline murmured.

“Of course, at one time I was hoping to marry the Marquis myself,” Julia said brightly, peering into the mirror to view her reflection the better, “but he was always a drunken old rake and Mrs B., the Admiral’s wife, would not let me near him! Anyway, his taste obviously runs to the lower orders for the bailiff’s ward to catch his notice!”

She picked up her reticule. “I suppose the dinner gong will sound in a moment, but I must just finish the tale! When Mrs Hanslope, the bailiff’s wife, died, he seemed uncertain of what to do with the girl and apprenticed her to some tradesman in Northampton, I believe, no doubt thinking that she might learn a useful profession! Anyway, she returned when Hanslope was on his deathbed, and made that shocking marriage to the Marquis! Scandalous!”

Caroline, remembering the spiteful delight with which Julia had imparted the tale of the Marquis’s marriage, sighed a little. The Abbey villages had always been a hotbed of gossip—no doubt it was the same in any rural community—and probably there were precious few people with a kind word to say about the Marchioness.

“Where do they think she has gone?” she asked dubiously. “With no friends and no one to help her—”

Julia shrugged carelessly. “Heaven knows! But she is well served for her folly and greed, is she not! Presuming to marry a Marquis when she was a little nobody and probably quite unpresentable! No wonder that the villages can talk of little else!”

“What does Mr Hanslope have to say on all this?” Caroline asked slowly.

“Why, nothing! John Hanslope died a few months ago, just after the Marquis married his ward!” Julia said happily. “Is it not the most engrossing tale, Caroline! Louise was her name. The bastard child of the bailiff! Each time Sywell did something outrageous they said that he could not possibly do worse, but of course he always did! And no doubt the girl was no better than she ought to have been, so there is one way that she might keep herself in the future—”

Caroline stood up. She had heard enough of Julia’s spite. “Well, it is an extraordinary tale, for sure, but—”

The gong sounded for dinner. Julia gave her golden curls one last, satisfied pat. “There! I shall not be needing you again tonight, Caroline, for Letty will be back in time to help me undress.”

She swept out of the bedroom and down the curving stair. Caroline followed more slowly. Hewly Manor was a small house, dating in part from the fourteenth century, and whilst Julia deplored the inconvenience of the draughty old rooms and the lack of modern comforts, Caroline admired the style and elegance of previous centuries. The wooden stair led from the main landing directly down to the flagstone hall, where the dinner gong still reverberated softly. The Admiral had always insisted on military precision in his household and it was only recently, when his illness had become so much more severe, that standards had started to slip a little.

Julia grumbled that the food was always late and often cold, the service slipshod, and the servants paid her no heed. She felt was all of a piece with the dilapidation of the house and the estate, but Caroline’s observation was that the servants were willing enough, but had no direction and no one to really care about them. She wondered what Lewis Brabant would make of all this neglect and reflected that she would not like to be in his servants’ shoes. She already knew that Captain Brabant could be somewhat intimidating.

Caroline paused on the landing, taking care to stay well back in the shadows. She watched Julia descend slowly and saw her pause briefly before the long mirror that hung on the half-landing. Then, apparently satisfied with her appearance, she went down to join the Captain.

Caroline could see Lewis waiting at the bottom of the stair. The light fell on his upturned face as he watched Julia approach, and Caroline caught her breath. In his evening clothes, the dust from his journey washed away, he was elegance personified. The blue eyes that had regarded her so stonily earlier now rested on Julia with warm appreciation. That firm mouth held the hint of a disturbing smile. She saw Lewis straighten up and step forward to take Julia’s hand. It was strange, but for a moment Caroline had some impression of restlessness about him, as though he already found the confines of the house chafing on him. It was only a momentary feeling, but it made Caroline wonder. A man who was used to the limitless expanse of the ocean could well find the boundaries of a country estate too restrictive.

“Good evening, Julia.” Caroline saw Lewis press a kiss on Julia’s hand. “Lavender is already down, but does Miss Whiston not join us for dinner?”

Caroline caught her breath. How would Julia respond to that, when she had been the one to forbid Caroline from accompanying them?

“Oh, Caro is a most retiring creature,” Julia said with a ravishing smile, taking Lewis’s arm. “I tried to persuade her to join us but she was positive in her refusal! She is the most perfect companion, you know, so discreet and unassuming. Now Lewis, I want to hear all about your adventures! I am utterly agog, my dear…”

The door of the drawing-room closed behind them. Caroline felt an uncharacteristic urge to stamp her foot. It was not that she had wished to take dinner with the family, but overhearing Julia’s misrepresentations was too much. Even as a schoolgirl, Julia had had an uncanny knack of twisting the truth to present herself in the best possible light, and it seemed that this ability had not diminished in time.

Caroline vented her feelings by slamming her bedroom door behind her. It was childish but it made her feel better. Normally she was capable of dismissing the slights and irritations of her working life. After all, she had endured many such in the time since she had left the Guarding Academy. For some reason, however, working at Hewly Manor was proving more difficult. Perhaps it was because she and Julia had once been friends but were now effectively mistress and servant; perhaps it was because of the memories stirred up by being in Steep Abbot again. And now, Caroline thought honestly, it was because of Lewis Brabant. Now that she had met him, she found she did not like the thought of Julia’s plans of entrapment, which was odd, since she had dismissed the man as the veriest rake.

On impulse, Caro went across to her bed and pulled out the old carpet-bag that was hidden beneath. In it she kept her most treasured possessions. There were scant few: her book of sonnets, a fine gold pendant and matching brooch inherited from her mother, her grandfather’s fob watch. There was also a pile of letters received from Julia over the years.

Julia’s communications had been erratic. After she had married and moved from Steep Abbot she had not written for several years, but in her widowhood she had struck up a correspondence again. Caroline often wondered why she had bothered to keep the letters and had come to the conclusion that it was because they constituted a link with Steep Abbot and her childhood. Added to which, Julia’s writing, whilst no great prose, was as entertaining as it was malicious.

Caroline turned to the early letters, the ones that Julia had sent when Caroline had taken up her first post as a governess in Yorkshire, and Julia had left the Guarding Academy and was living at Hewly under the chaperonage of the Honourable Mrs Brabant. She scanned the closely written lines until she found the bit that she was looking for.

“…Life is so dull now that you are gone, dearest Caro. Mrs B., whilst very amiable, is the most idle of creatures and will scarce take me anywhere! I am desperate for a season in Town! How else shall I find myself a husband? I shall end up setting my cap at Andrew, though he is the dullest of them all with his hunting and his fishing…”

Caroline raised her eyebrows. Andrew Brabant’s dreariness had not prevented Julia from contracting an engagement to him at a later date. But that was not the bit that interested her—at least, not yet. Here it was:

“Lewis is down from Oxford,” she read. “I believe he fancies himself as a poet, for he is most romantical, with a lock of hair falling into his eyes and a dreamy air. He is forever quoting verse and striking a pose. It would be fun to see if I could make him fall in love with me! That would be just the thing for a poet and might even improve his bad verse! Perhaps I shall try…

“You must remember Mrs Taperley, the farrier’s wife? The on dit is that her new baby was fathered by none other than the Marquis of Sywell—they say the little boy is the very image! Mrs B. takes great care to keep me out of Sywell’s way, as you might imagine, but I should rather like to catch a Marquis!

“The Admiral talks of nothing but this horrid War, and is very dreary…”

There was more. Reams and reams of Julia’s news and gossip. Caroline skipped a couple of letters and found another:

“Dearest Caro, the most diverting news! Lewis has asked me to marry him! I knew I could bring him up to scratch and indeed he is head over ears in love with me! He is to go to sea and wished us to become betrothed before he left. He is sure that the Admiral will make no demur, and indeed he might not, for have I not twenty thousand pounds? For my part, I fear that Lewis may be away some time and cannot imagine how I shall go on…I persuaded him that the engagement should remain secret…I saw Hugo Perceval in the village last week and thought him most handsome…”

Caroline sighed. She stuffed the letters back in the bag and pushed it out of sight under the bed. It seemed that Lewis Brabant had only been the first of Julia’s conquests. It was not long before the Admiral’s ward had transferred her affections to the older brother, and had entered into a more formal engagement. Julia had confided that the Admiral and his wife had not liked the match above half, but that she was determined to cut a dash in the neighbourhood as Mrs Andrew Brabant. Alas for Julia, the plan had been thwarted by the fever that carried off both Andrew and his mother, but it was not long before she had received an offer from Andrew’s best friend, Jack Chessford…Jack had been handsome and rich, and Julia had achieved her aim of going to London at last. There had been no more letters until the one telling Caroline that Jack was dead in a carriage accident, the money was almost exhausted and Julia intended to make her home with her godfather, whose own health had deteriorated so markedly in recent years. Of Lewis, there had been no further mention at all.

That was until Caroline had come to Hewly to be Julia’s companion. She shifted a little uncomfortably as she remembered how quickly she had got the measure of Julia’s plans. As soon as Julia had discovered that Lewis Brabant was returning home, she declared that she intended to set her cap at him once more. Nor did she seem to see anything wrong in her plan to entrap him for her own amusement. Caroline sighed. Natural delicacy gave her an aversion to the idea, no matter how much she told herself that Lewis Brabant probably deserved such a fate, but she could scarcely warn him. Besides, Julia’s feelings might be rather shallow at present, but it was not for Caroline to say that a deeper affection might not develop. She felt unaccountably depressed at the thought.

There was a knock at the door and Nurse Prior stuck her head round the door. A diminutive Yorkshirewoman, she had been nanny to all the Brabant children and had come out of retirement on the estate to nurse the Admiral after he was taken ill. Caroline and she had taken to each other quickly, each recognising the other’s virtues. Mrs Prior had confided in an unguarded moment that Julia was about as much use as a chocolate fireguard, and had been appreciative of Caroline’s help in the sickroom.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Whiston, but would you be so good as to sit with the Admiral for a little whilst I take my meal? The poor gentleman has not been so good today, and I don’t like to leave him…”

Caroline jumped up. Over the past few weeks she had become accustomed to sitting with the Admiral whilst Mrs Prior took a rest. Julia never went near her godfather if she could help it, proclaiming herself too delicate for such unpleasantness, but Lavender, the Admiral’s daughter, often took a turn to read to her father. Whether the Admiral was aware of any of them or not was a moot point. Often he would lie with his eyes open for hours on end, neither moving nor speaking. Sometimes he was voluble, but the words made little sense and he had to be soothed into a calmer frame of mind. If he were feeling well, he might get up and take a short turn about the garden, or sit in the drawing-room for a little, but he never gave any indication that he knew where he was or what was happening around him. Caroline, who remembered him from her youth as a strong, upright and active man, thought it a terrible pity.

The sickroom was in near-darkness, with only one candle burning on the table beside the bed. The Admiral lay on his back, gnarled hands resting on the coverlet, eyes closed. Caroline sat down beside the bed and picked up the book of naval stories that Lavender had evidently been reading earlier in the day. There was no sound but the Admiral’s wheezing breath and the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. She started to read very softly.

Afterwards she could not believe that she had fallen asleep, but it had evidently been so, for she found that the book had slipped to her lap and her head had nodded forward. The candle had burned down a considerable way and the door was opening.

“I did not expect to find you here, ma’am.”

Caroline had been expecting Mrs Prior to return, but it was Lewis Brabant who now came forward into the glow of the candlelight. The flickering flame made him appear very tall and cast his face into shadow. He was still in his evening clothes and held a glass of brandy in one hand. Feeling suddenly flustered, Caroline got to her feet.

“Oh! Captain Brabant! Yes, I was sitting with your father whilst Mrs Prior had her dinner, but it seems—” She glanced at the clock in confusion, suddenly aware that it was much later than she had thought.

“The kitchen maid cut herself on the vegetable knife and Mrs Prior has been bandaging her up,” Lewis Brabant said with a smile. “I am sorry that you have been delayed, Miss Whiston. I am happy to sit with my father for a little now, and allow you to join my sister and Mrs Chessford in the drawing-room.”

The prospect held little allure for Caroline, who could not think of many less enjoyable ways to finish the evening. Lewis was looking at his father’s sleeping face and his expression was sombre.

“How has he been, Miss Whiston? Mrs Prior tells me that today has not been one of his better days.”

“The Admiral has been asleep whilst I have been here,” Caroline said, a little hesitantly. “It is true that he has not stirred much today. Sometimes he is quite lively and even takes a walk in the gardens on fine days! And often he will talk to us—” She broke off, aware of Lewis Brabant’s gaze resting on her face with disconcerting intentness.

“You must have spent a great deal of time with him,” he said. “I thank you for that, Miss Whiston. It is kind of you.”

“Well…” Caroline found herself uncomfortable with his gratitude but did not wish to appear so ungracious as to dismiss it. People so seldom thanked her for anything she did. Besides, it was true that caring for the Admiral was not a part of her duties and she had undertaken it to help Mrs Prior and Lavender.

“Mrs Prior is a devoted nurse,” she said guardedly, “but even she needs a rest occasionally. I believe she would work her fingers to the bone otherwise!”

“She was always the same,” Lewis said, smiling ruefully. “Did Nanny Prior tell you that she was nurse to us all, and to my mother’s family before that? She has always been a tower of strength.”

He moved across to the fire and banked it up. The flames shot up and sent the shadows dancing along the wall. Caroline felt suddenly faint with hunger and grasped the chair back to steady herself. She had forgotten that she had not yet eaten and that the hour for dinner was long past.

“I do believe that you must have missed your dinner, ma’am,” Lewis Brabant said, straightening up and coming towards her, concern showing on his face. He took her arm. “You look quite pale! Stay here whilst I go to order you a tray of food. We cannot do with having to call Dr Pettifer out for you as well!”

“I am very well, I thank you, sir,” Caroline said, her face flaming with embarrassment. The hard strength of his hand under her arm was strangely disturbing. She felt her head spin with a combination of hunger and mortification, and Lewis gave an exclamation and pressed the brandy glass into her hand.

“Here, take this, Miss Whiston, before you swoon! You will find it most efficacious!”

He was right. The strong spirit burned Caroline’s throat and made her cough a little, but the world immediately came back into closer focus. She looked a little doubtfully from the empty glass to Lewis’s smiling face.

“Thank you, sir…Your best brandy! I am so sorry—”

Lewis shrugged gracefully. “It is of no consequence, Miss Whiston! I will fetch another glass.” His amused scrutiny dwelled on her face, which had gone from chalk white to rosy pink. “I believe that you should retire to your room until I can arrange for a tray to be brought up. For those unaccustomed to strong liquor the result can be confusing!”

“I am not unaccustomed to brandy,” Caroline began, then realised how her words must sound and broke off in confusion. “That is, I have drunk it before…My grandfather used to promote it as medicinal against chills…” She realised that she was rambling. Lewis had raised one eyebrow and was watching her with a quizzical amusement that disconcerted her.

“I thought for a moment that you must be one of those fabled governesses who was addicted to drink, Miss Whiston!” he said mildly. “Such an idea seems absurd, but one must always expect the unexpected…”

The colour flooded Caroline’s face again. On an empty stomach the drink was proving as much a curse as a blessing. She extricated herself carefully from Lewis’s grip and walked towards the door.

“Pray do not trouble yourself to arrange any food for me, sir. I shall go down to the kitchens directly.”

Lewis shrugged, opening the door for her. “Very well, Miss Whiston. I can see that you mean to be confoundedly independent!” His gaze travelled over her thoughtfully. “I see also that you have rejected your red velvet for more sober garb! How very apt for a governess companion!”

Caroline looked up at him. The faint light could not hide the mockery in his eyes.

“I am persuaded,” he added pleasantly, “that it can only be skin deep, however! The dryad who walks the woods reading verse must be the real Miss Whiston! The child who was brought up on brandy-drinking…”

“The real Miss Whiston has a living to earn,” Caroline said tartly, “and has no time for conundrums, sir! Pray excuse me!”

Lewis Brabant gave her an ironic bow. “Do not let me keep you from your duties then, ma’am! Good night!”

Caroline closed the door softly behind her and leant against the jamb for a moment to steady herself. It seemed that Lewis Brabant, despite his admiration for Julia, was not above flirting with the companion. Such behaviour was not unfamiliar to Caroline, for she had met plenty of men who thought that governesses and companions were fair game for their advances. Normally such situations gave her no trouble but what was particularly confusing here was her own reaction to Lewis. She should have given him a sharp set-down, but instead she had felt a treacherous attraction, as bewildering as it was unwelcome.

She went slowly down the stairs, through the door to the servants’ quarters and along the corridor to the kitchen. The chatter and light interrupted her thoughts, but as she sat down at the trestle table and accepted a bowl of soup, she could not help but wonder just what Lewis Brabant thought of her. Then she thought that perhaps his mind was so full of Julia that he did not think of her at all, and she found that that was more annoying still.

Lewis waited until the door had closed behind Caroline, then took the chair beside the bed, sat back and closed his eyes. It had been a long day and he was bone weary, but despite that, he had to fight a strong urge to take a horse to the Admiralty and demand to be given the first ship available.

His responsibilities dragged him down like lead weights. The house was in poor condition and the estate even more so. His father’s man of business had been blunt about the time and effort it would take to get things back into shape and Lewis was not sure that he even wanted to try. He had little affinity with a place that he had only visited once in the past ten years. As Richard had pointed out, it was not even near the sea! If it had not been for his family…

Lewis opened his eyes. His father’s breathing was steady but the old man showed no flicker of consciousness. Lewis was aware of a profound sadness. It could only be a matter of time before the Admiral passed on, but he owed it to his father to see that his last days were as comfortable as possible. He would have to talk to the doctor in the morning.

Lewis leant forward and looked at his father’s sleeping face. They had never been particularly close, but the Admiral had been a fair man and they had respected each other. Harley Brabant had never understood his son’s bookish tendencies but had tolerated them whilst complaining that Lewis took after his mother’s side of the family. All the same, Lewis knew that his father had been very proud when he had chosen to follow him into the Navy. It was comforting to think that the Admiral had approved of him. Which was why…Lewis sighed. Which was why it was difficult to escape the notion that the Admiral would wish his son to continue what he had begun at Hewly Manor. Lewis knew that he could always sell up and move away, but he could not escape the thought that this would be going against the Admiral’s wishes.

Then there was Lavender. His sister had only been fourteen when he had gone away and Lewis was uncomfortably aware that she was now a grown woman who must have her own hopes and aspirations. He barely knew her and she was a reserved character who might take some time to understand. He had already seen that she disliked Julia…

Lewis shifted slightly. Julia was just as he remembered her, only more beautiful, sweeter, more desirable. She had been eighteen when he had gone to sea, and he a youth of twenty-two who had thought himself so worldly wise and brave! A faint smile twisted his lips. What a lot he had learned in those first few months, racked by seasickness and homesickness in equal measure, afraid and forlorn! The lowest point had been when he had received his mother’s letter telling him of Julia’s betrothal to his brother. Lewis had felt sick and betrayed, for had not Julia exchanged the most tender vows with him, promising to wait for him for ever?

He had been prepared to put such youthful folly behind him on his return to Hewly. After all, he and Julia were ten years older and such boy and girl affairs were best left in the past. But to his amazement, there had been a letter from Julia awaiting him on his arrival in London, explaining that she had felt it her duty to return to Hewly to care for the Admiral. She expressed herself delighted to be able to welcome him back to his old home. Her words were well chosen and gracious, and had stirred in him a faint but definite anticipation at seeing her again. And then they had met…

Lewis got up and walked over to the window. The heavy velvet curtains had been drawn against the November dark, and when he pushed them back he felt the cold air rush into the overheated sickroom. The moon was high and cast a silver shadow over the deserted garden. He felt restless and cooped up in the house. With a sigh, Lewis let the curtain fall back into place and moved over to the fire. He had imagined that there might be some initial awkwardness in meeting Julia again, but this had proved far from the case. She had been the perfect hostess, but with added warmth that had been most encouraging.

Thinking of Julia led him to think of Caroline Whiston. There was an enigma. No warm welcome from her! For a moment, Lewis recalled the tantalising softness of Caroline in his arms, her lips parting beneath his. The change from that spirit of the woods into the severe companion in her drab worsted was almost unbelievable. It was as though she deliberately hid a part of herself away. Yet she was not ill-looking. It was almost as though she deliberately sought to efface herself, hiding that glorious chestnut hair, choosing colours that drained all vitality from her pale complexion, concealing her figure. It had not been hidden in that red velvet dress…Lewis smothered a grin. Nor could Miss Whiston disguise the flashing beauty of those hazel eyes. She was a most unusual lady’s companion indeed.

Lewis stirred the fire, still thinking of her. What on earth had possessed him to accost her in that particular way? True, he had thought her a maidservant or village girl when he had first glimpsed her, but he was hardly the man to go around stealing kisses from servants! There had been some affinity, some instant chemistry between them that had leapt into immediate life. He was certain she felt it too, for later she had been nervous of him, reserved. Stern Miss Whiston would never allow him within arm’s length again!

Lewis sighed, his conscience pricking him. It was little wonder that Miss Whiston had been nervous after his behaviour earlier in the day. Companions and governesses were in a vulnerable position and he had taken advantage. Yet there was something about the girl that drew him on…

“Petticoat government!” Richard Slater had commented, on hearing that Lewis would be returning to a house full of women. Lewis grimaced. He would have to change that. Already he felt stifled by the claustrophobic atmosphere of Hewly Manor, the shadow of the sickroom, the circumscribed life of the country. He would write to Richard and ask him to bring a party to Hewly, then he would throw himself into the management of the estate, visit his neighbours, find somehow, the piece of his life that seemed to be missing. Previously, it had been the Navy that had filled the spaces in his life, occupying his time and energies. It was his main love, but if there was to be another…His thoughts turned fleetingly to Julia again. His first love. The thought of her as a country wife was laughable, but for the time being at least they were sharing a house and he was still not sure if he was glad or sorry. He picked up the brandy glass and looked at it thoughtfully. He must ask Caroline Whiston more about the grandfather who had encouraged brandy-drinking as a cure for chills. Thinking of her once more, Lewis took the empty glass and went downstairs in search of a refill.