The Mysterious Miss Fairchild (HQR Historical)

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Thank heavens the rain has stopped now. I always think things look so much better when the sun is shining, do not you?’

  ‘Natalya.’

  She froze knowing he was standing close behind her.

  ‘Natalya, you have no need to be nervous. I have told you, you have nothing to fear from me.’

  ‘I know.’ Her earlier garrulity had deserted her. It was difficult to speak, her voice felt strangled in her throat. ‘I am being very foolish.’

  ‘No, no, it is perfectly natural, given what has occurred, but I would not have you be afraid of me.’

  ‘I am not afraid of you, Tristan.’ She tried to laugh. ‘We should blame my aunt and uncle. They have kept me so confined that I have no experience of being...being alone with a man.’

  ‘That is how it should be for a gently bred young lady.’ He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her towards him. ‘However, if we are to be convincing as a married couple we must try to be at ease with one another, at least when the servants are present. Do you not agree?’

  Her gaze was firmly fixed on his neckcloth, but she knew he was smiling. She could hear it in his voice. She knew if she dared to look into his grey eyes they would be smiling, too, and she would smile back and be lost.

  I am lost now, she thought desperately. My heart is thudding so hard he must surely be able to hear it!

  The wanton thoughts crept back. How would he react if she slipped her arms about his neck and kissed him? Would he be repulsed? If he rejected her, she would be devastated and it could only add to the constraint between them.

  ‘Will you cry friends with me, Natalya?’

  ‘Friends, yes.’ One could talk to friends. Share secrets. One could joke and tease them. One was safe with friends. She managed a little nod. ‘I should like that.’

  ‘Good.’ His fingers tightened momentarily on her shoulders before he released her. ‘I recall you telling me you played chess regularly, did you not?’

  ‘Chess?’ She blinked. ‘Why, yes.’

  ‘There is a chessboard in the morning room. I noticed it when I was writing the letters yesterday. What do you say to my fetching it here?’

  Friends.

  She smiled. ‘Why, yes, but I warn you, my lord, I have been well taught.’

  ‘Even better.’ He grinned at her. ‘We shall enjoy a good battle!’

  * * *

  ‘Checkmate.’

  Natalya uttered a very unladylike crow of triumph as she made her final move.

  Tristan sat back. ‘One game apiece. Shall we play again, a deciding game?’

  Natalya nodded. She had enjoyed pitting her skill against Tristan. They were well matched and it had taken all her concentration to beat him.

  ‘Yes, I should like that.’

  He said, ‘You play very well. Did you learn that at your exemplary school, too?’

  ‘Yes. Then, when I came to Sydney Place, my uncle employed a chess master for twelve months to help me improve my game.’

  ‘I cannot think of one lady of my acquaintance who plays as well as you. We have been thoroughly entertained for the past couple of hours, have we not?’

  The dark thoughts that were never far away surfaced again. She turned her attention to the chessboard and began setting the pieces back in place. Is that what she was destined to be, an entertainment, a courtesan, designed for a rich man’s pleasure rather than his duty? She had been given all the accomplishments of a lady, but the Pridhams were certainly not trying to marry her off.

  Someone had gone to great lengths to prevent her forming an attachment. They had threatened Freddie and she believed the same person or persons had ordered her abduction. However, she could not believe it was the Pridhams. After four years living with them, she was convinced they would do nothing so out of character.

  ‘You are missing a piece.’ Tristan bent to scoop up one that had fallen to the floor. ‘Here.’ He smiled. ‘You should never ignore the importance of a pawn.’

  Their fingers brushed as she took the piece and a tremor ran through her.

  Is that what I am? she wondered, fear gnawing at her insides. A pawn in someone’s game?

  Someone had plans for her and she was convinced they did not include a respectable marriage.

  * * *

  Tristan watched the play of emotion passing across Natalya’s features. Had she, too, felt the frisson of excitement as their fingers touched? If so, it had frightened her and he did not want that. He wanted her to smile, to laugh. He wanted to protect her. To look after her for the rest of her life.

  A knock at the door interrupted his line of thought and Mrs Sturry bustled in.

  ‘I will have dinner ready for you in an hour, if it pleases you, sir, madam?’

  Natalya looked blank for a moment. ‘Why, yes. Yes, thank you.’

  The housekeeper folded her arms over her apron and beamed, then she turned to address Tristan.

  ‘It being such a fine evening I thought, sir, you and Mrs Quintrell might like to take the air in the gardens while I make everything ready. The roses are a picture at this time of year and you will be perfectly private there. You cannot be seen from the road and, in any case, there will be no one passing, for it leads nowhere but here. Now, what do you say?’

  Tristan glanced at Natalya and was relieved to see that she was composed. She even looked amused by the housekeeper’s good-natured efforts to get them out of the way while she tidied the room and prepared the table.

  ‘Well, my dear, shall we agree to call it a draw and take a stroll in the gardens?’

  ‘A walk before dinner is an excellent idea.’ Her eyes twinkled shyly at him. ‘It will give me the opportunity to wear the new shawl you brought me.’

  He escorted her to the front door. Outside the sun had dried the paths and the clear blue sky offered the promise of a fine evening. The recently scythed lawns stretched away on either side of a winding drive and a path led them around the house to the rose garden, which was indeed secluded with tall hedges on all sides.

  Tristan wanted to set her at her ease and he began with an innocuous comment about the gardens. She responded. They talked of plants, of houses and gradually she became more comfortable in his company. Soon they were conversing like old friends and he, too, relaxed, so much so that when she began to ask him questions, he responded readily. He told her of his family, of his sister and mother, both widows, both dependent upon him.

  ‘Not for financial support,’ he explained. ‘My father provided well for Mama and he also secured an excellent marriage settlement for Katherine. Not that anyone could have foreseen that Erwin would break his neck in a hunting accident.’

  ‘That was when you became Freddie’s guardian?’

  ‘Yes. Four years ago. Freddie was barely seventeen. It was a difficult time for him, but he has turned out very well, I think.’

  ‘He is well regarded in Bath,’ she told him.

  ‘I am glad of it, but not surprised. He has a generous nature and makes friends easily. Katherine worries about him, but that is perfectly natural in a doting parent. My mother is just the same, only now she is growing older I worry about her, too!’

  ‘You care a great deal for your family,’ she remarked.

  ‘You sound surprised.’

  ‘No, not exactly. Envious, perhaps. I should like to feel more affection than I do for the Pridhams, but perhaps mine is a cold nature.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  ‘No, I think it must be. I have very few friends in Bath, you see, and I have lived here for four years.’

  ‘Do you have no friends from your schooldays?’

  ‘No. They—we have all gone our separate ways.’ She was silent, a slight shadow on her countenance as if her thoughts were not happy. He decided it was time to bring her back to the present.

  �
�I hope you will not feel too uncomfortable,’ he remarked, ‘eating your meal in a bedchamber.’

  ‘I am not unaccustomed to it,’ she replied, giving him a slight smile. ‘I always breakfast alone at Sydney Place.’

  ‘What, always?’ It was his turn to be surprised.

  ‘Yes. The Pridhams do not like chatter at the breakfast table. In fact, my uncle can be very irritable in the mornings. I realised that almost as soon as I came to live with them and my aunt suggested I might prefer to break my fast in my bedchamber.’

  ‘Are they kind to you, the Pridhams?’

  ‘Why, yes. That is...’ she hesitated ‘...they have no children of their own, you see. I think they find it difficult to show affection. Mr Pridham can be a little severe, if his will is crossed, but never cruel. He can be very dull, however, and I admit I find him quite irritating at times.’

  ‘And are you often at outs with him?’ he asked her.

  She shook her head. ‘I am very grateful to my aunt and uncle for taking me in. I appreciate all they have done for me and I do my best to please them. In fact, I like to please everyone, whenever I can.’

  ‘Is that the reason you agreed to walk here today, to please me? Or perhaps it pleases you to step out with me?’

  He was teasing her and she replied with spirit.

  ‘Neither of those! I wanted to oblige Mrs Sturry. She clearly felt the need to make everything tidy and, after all her kindness to us, I did not wish to refuse.’ She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I certainly did not wish to walk alone in the gardens with you.’

  ‘Ah, I should have known that.’ He gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘After what happened when we arrived.’

  Her mood changed to one of alarm. ‘Our first night here?’

  ‘When I helped you to dismount,’ he explained, his sorrowful tone at variance with the wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘You fainted off when I tried to kiss you. It was a most lowering experience. I have never had such an effect upon a woman before.’

  * * *

  Natalya could not help it. She giggled.

  She quickly looked away and said, trying to sound severe, ‘Let that be a lesson to you, my lord. You are clearly in need of humbling.’

  ‘Do you think me such a coxcomb, Natalya? Do you think I am beyond redemption?’

  He had used her name! And his voice, suddenly so serious, but gentle, it wrapped around her like a velvet mantle. She felt out of her depth, her heart was fluttering like a bird, leaving her breathless and light headed. She struggled to bring her thoughts back to something more prosaic.

  ‘Mrs Sturry was right,’ she managed to say at last. ‘The roses are indeed a picture.’ She stopped beside one of the bushes. ‘These blooms in particular are the exact shade of my new shawl.’

  ‘Then I shall pick one for you.’ Tristan took out his penknife and cut off a perfect bloom. He held it out for Natalya. ‘They smell delightful after the rain, too.’

  She closed her eyes as she breathed in.

  ‘Quite heavenly,’ she murmured.

  * * *

  As are you, Natalya.

  Silently, Tristan tucked the rose behind her ear. She smiled up at him and he gently ran his fingers down her face, cupping her chin and turning it up that he might kiss her mouth. She did not resist him. Instead her hand crept up to his shoulder. He felt her fingers move over his collar and bury themselves in his hair. It was enough. He put his arms about her and pulled her close, deepening the kiss.

  She gave a little mewl of pleasure, deep in her throat, and his arms tightened. He teased her lips apart, his tongue exploring her mouth while she clung to him, returning his kiss shyly at first, but with growing confidence. Their tongues danced together and the blood roared through his veins as she pressed her body against his.

  When at last he raised his head, they were both breathless. She struggled in his arms and immediately he released her. Not completely, but enough that she might put her head back against his shoulder and gaze up at him, her eyes dark and luminous with desire. He kissed her again, then trailed his lips across her neck.

  ‘I am falling in love with you, Natalya.’

  ‘Is that wise?’ She uttered the words like a sigh.

  ‘Who knows?’

  His lips sought hers again for another long, lingering kiss, but this time it was Natalya who broke away.

  ‘We should continue our walk, my lord.’

  There was a note of regret in her voice and that pleased him. He pulled her hand back on to his arm and they began to stroll again.

  He said, ‘You must know how much I would like to share your bed, but I shall not do so. I intend to see you safely returned to Bath, but then, madam, I shall court you as you deserve.’

  He thought she would be pleased. Instead she averted her face.

  * * *

  Natalya blinked away the hot tears that threatened. He was too good, too kind. She had no idea what she deserved and neither did he. He seemed quite unconcerned about her shady past. Could he really wish to marry her? Perhaps she had misunderstood. Perhaps he wanted to make her his mistress. She felt even more wretched. If that was her destiny, then she could think of no man she would prefer to be her lover, but recent events suggested the choice would not be hers. Or Tristan’s.

  She gave a little sob. ‘I do not think you will be allowed to do that.’

  ‘Natalya?’ Tristan took her shoulders and turned her towards him. ‘Are you weeping?’ He cupped her face in his hands and gently smoothed his thumbs across her wet cheeks. ‘Tell me what is upsetting you.’

  ‘I am n-not upset as much as frightened.’

  ‘Ah, my dear.’ He pulled her close. ‘I shall not let anything happen to you.’

  ‘Not me.’ She gave a tiny sigh and her fingers clung to the lapels of his coat. ‘I am frightened for you, Tristan.’

  ‘Me?’ His arms tightened and for a moment he rested his head against her hair. ‘There is no need for that, sweeting, I promise you. Come and sit down, then you shall tell me what it is you fear.’

  He took her hands and led her to a nearby bench and waited in silence until, eventually, she began to speak.

  ‘Freddie said he was approached by two men who warned him not to—to pursue me.’

  ‘Young fool, I would rather he had not made you anxious with that tale!’

  ‘No, he was right to tell me. And now, the attempt to abduct me. I believe the two events must be connected, but I have no idea why it should be. It frightens me, Tristan. I am afraid of what will happen to you if you are seen to be paying me too much attention when we return to Bath.’

  ‘You should let me worry about that.’

  She shook her head. ‘I c-cannot. My uncle had promised to explain everything on my birthday, but then he said he could not yet tell me. As if he had received instructions on the matter.’ She dropped her head. ‘I very much fear my fate has already been decided.’

  ‘Why should you think that?’

  ‘Oh, little things that the Pridhams have said. My education, which was far in excess of what is considered necessary for most young ladies, or gentlemen, for that matter! And my aunt and uncle’s insistence that I should continue to add to my accomplishments.’ She tried to laugh. ‘You will think I am being fanciful, perhaps. I just wish I knew about my history!’

  ‘Then let me help. Tell me about your childhood,’ he suggested. ‘What can you remember?’

  She considered for a moment.

  ‘I was brought up by an elderly couple for the first seven years of my life, although I have no idea where we were living. Then I was sent away to school in Yorkshire until I was seventeen. Many of the girls were orphans or, like myself, knew nothing of their parents save that there were sufficient funds to pay the not inconsiderable fees. One or two of the girls knew that they had been born out of wedlock. One in particular
I remember; she was the child of a notorious courtesan. Daughter of the demi-monde, some of the teachers called her, although they did not know we were aware of it! Her mother used to send her the most extravagant presents.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I remember once she was given a diamond tiara that had been presented to her mother by a visiting foreign prince. Is it any wonder that those of us who knew nothing of our parents should think we came from similar stock?’

  ‘And what do you think now?’ he asked her, smiling.

  * * *

  Natalya felt a blush coming. She should tell him what Mrs Ancrum had said, that she was most likely the baseborn daughter of a gentlewoman and that her father was not even an Englishman! She should, but the words would not come.

  Instead, she said lightly, ‘I do not doubt my history is far more commonplace. I am most likely an orphaned relative of the Pridhams. But I do feel as if I am being—being prepared for a role. At best, marriage. Or s-something less respectable.’ She shivered, but covered it with another laugh. ‘That is the drawback of being allowed to read extensively, I have the wildest fancies! I think the truth will turn out to be much more ordinary. Most likely I am destined to become a governess, or a lady’s companion, or some such thing.’

  He reached out and covered her hands in his own, saying roughly, ‘I will marry you out of hand before I let that happen. Trust me.’

  She nodded, but did not allow herself to consider the idea. Tristan might be willing to bestow upon her his hand and his name but if, as she suspected, she had been born out of wedlock, he would never be able to give her his heart. Why, only today she had read in Mrs Edgeworth’s novel where the heroine was believed to be illegitimate. Even such a good, brave hero as Lord Colambre knew he could never love a bastard. How much more difficult, then, for a respectable man of the real world?