Rags-to-Riches Bride

by Mary Nichols

  She was tempted to make some excuse to leave, but she had promised to stay the week, had been given an advance on her wages on the strength of that. And what about her father? She must consider him. He had only just arrived, how could she uproot him again? And where could they go if she did? They had no home and she would have no employment. The Harecrofts paid her wages; without that, she would be destitute. Leaving abruptly, she decided, was ill mannered and the act of a coward. And there was Stephen. She had not given him a thought all afternoon. He was not his brother’s keeper. The situation must be dealt with and the best way to do it was to do the work she had come to do with cool efficiency and stay to the end.

  She slept at last.

  Next morning, after her discussion with Lady Harecroft and Alicia about the party, which only required her to confirm what Alicia was planning and to make one or two suggestions of her own, Diana found herself with the rest of the day free. She decided to take a different route to the nursing home, which did not take her past the dower house.

  At the back of the Hall between the stables and the kitchen garden, a gate gave on to a path that led across a wide expanse of grass to the wood and the brook. Remembering their walk of the day before, she crossed the bridge and turned in the opposite direction, away from the gallops, a route she surmised would take her to the village. She had not gone far when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to find Richard gaining on her. Although he was walking, he was dressed in a brown riding coat and tan leather breeches tucked into highly polished riding boots. ‘Good morning, Diana,’ he said, doffing his hat. ‘Where are you off to, today?’

  She took a deep breath to calm herself. ‘Good morning, Mr Harecroft. I am on my way to see my father.’

  ‘This is not the shortest way.’

  ‘No, but I thought I would have a change and explore a little farther afield.’

  ‘That is best done on horseback. Shall I come with you to visit your father and then we could go riding? Does a sea captain’s daughter ride?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said before she could stop herself. ‘I used to ride when we lived in Calcutta.’

  ‘Then come riding with me.’

  He was everywhere and she could not escape him. He seemed to have taken on the role of companion and guide, which surprised her; she would have expected him to spend more time with Lucy and his child. Was he the rake he was reputed to be? His relationship with Lucy was hardly rake-like, but neither was it honourable. Yesterday, he had seemed a caring, almost doting father, today he was the careless bachelor again, assuming she would agree to whatever he asked. ‘To go riding you need a mount,’ she said.

  ‘Of course. You may ride Aunt Alicia’s mare. Since she gave up riding, the animal has grown fat and lazy. I have asked her and she gives her consent. So, what do you say?’

  ‘I have no habit with me.’

  ‘I am sure something can be found for you. The house is full of clothes, something is sure to fit.’

  ‘I would not wish to take up your time when you have other things to do.’

  ‘I have nothing else to do today. Tomorrow might be a different matter, but today I plan to go riding and would be pleased if you would accompany me.’ He stopped and regarded her quizzically. ‘Am I such an ogre, so steeped in sin, you cannot bear my company?’

  ‘I never said that!’

  ‘As near as, damnit.’

  ‘I spoke hastily. What you do is none of my business.’

  ‘Then make amends. Come riding with me.’

  She could not help herself. ‘Very well.’ She ought to have refused, politely but firmly, instead she had allowed herself to be persuaded. Her weakness worried her, but underlying that was a frisson of excitement, an element of risk, sweet and bitter together, and it set her heart pumping in her throat.

  ‘Good. Now let us go and see your papa.’

  James was sitting on a bench in the garden. Seeing him, Toby ran to him in an ecstasy of delight, wagging his tail and barking joyously. James leaned forward and the dog bounded into his arms. ‘Have you missed me, old fellow?’ he asked.

  ‘I think the answer to that is in the affirmative,’ Richard said, smiling and holding out his hand to be shaken. James disentangled his hand from the dog’s fur to take it. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Getting better every day. Missing my cognac, though. You wouldn’t have a flask about you, would you?’

  ‘No, sir, I would not.’

  ‘Pity.’

  ‘Papa, did you walk out here?’ Diana asked.

  ‘Yes.’ He picked up a walking stick propped against the bench. ‘With this to help me.’

  ‘Shall we take a turn about the garden?’ Richard suggested.

  James used his stick to get to his feet and the three of them began a slow perambulation of the garden, keeping to the paths. ‘Everywhere is so dry,’ Diana said. ‘The flowers are wilting.’

  ‘Not the roses,’ James put in. ‘They remind me of summer nights when we were out in Calcutta. The Europeans had imported roses to make English gardens and their perfume was overpowering. When I was on shore, your mama and I used to stroll in the gardens after dusk when it was cooler. The smell of roses always brings those times back.’

  ‘Did you not have roses in the gardens of your childhood?’ Richard asked, deliberately probing.

  ‘There may have been, I don’t remember.’

  ‘What do you remember of your childhood?’ Diana asked, wondering why she had never asked him before. Lady Harecroft seemed to think it strange she knew so little. ‘You have never said.’

  ‘Loneliness. Surrounded by other boys, all of them boisterous, I was alone. I prefer not to recall that. Later, in the navy, as a very young midshipman, there were no gardens, only the sea and salt spray. That was my life, but it changed when I met your dear mama. She was everything to me.’ His voice choked on a sob.

  ‘And Diana?’ Richard murmured.

  ‘Diana was, is, part of my wife, the child we made together and I want what is best for her.’

  ‘Naturally, you do.’

  ‘Papa, where did you meet Mama?’

  ‘At a dance in Southampton. It was held at the Assembly Rooms especially to welcome us home when our ship docked. It was in the early years of the war with Napoleon and we were celebrating a successful voyage and a safe return to our homeland. Kate was young and beautiful and always laughing and she danced with me and that was it. I was enslaved. We married when I was promoted that same year and she stuck by me through thick and thin. Even when—’He stopped suddenly; both his listeners knew what he was thinking.

  ‘And she had no family?’ Diana queried. ‘Parents? Brothers? Sisters?’

  ‘No, I told you that before. We were both orphans, brought up in different institutions. It was that which brought us together, something in common, so I have that at least to thank them for.’

  ‘And your parents? What do you know of them?’ Richard prompted.

  ‘Nothing. I have no memory of them. It was the same for Kate.’ He paused. ‘They could have been angels or villains, we had no way of knowing. Just be thankful, young fellow, that you have a family around you. It is what I most want for Diana. I have been telling her to accept your brother’s offer, then she will not be alone when I go.’

  ‘Papa!’ Diana protested, the colour flaring in her face.

  Richard gave a wry smile. ‘No, she will have the whole Harecroft dynasty about her, but there are disadvantages as well as advantages to that. She will have to toe the family line.’

  ‘You did not!’ She turned towards him. ‘And you seem to have survived.’

  ‘I am strong willed.’

  ‘And so, I promise you, am I.’

  He chuckled. ‘Good.’

  James looked from one to the other and laughed too, but he did not comment and the tour of the garden completed, they returned the invalid to his bench and Richard and Diana took their leave.

  Back at Borstead Hall, they left Toby i
n the care of a stable lad and, while two horses were being saddled for them, went indoors, where Alicia told Diana that two riding habits had been laid out on her bed for her to choose one. ‘Thank goodness the fashion for those has changed little since I last went riding,’ she said. ‘I have had several pairs of boots put out for you too, so you should find something to fit you.’

  Twenty minutes later, Diana returned downstairs wearing a dark blue taffeta skirt and a military-style tailored jacket with rows of braiding across the front, which fitted as if they had been made for her. Her outfit was completed with black boots and a tall hat tied under the chin with a wisp of veil. Richard looked her up and down in the intense way he had whenever she changed her clothes. ‘You look just like Great-Aunt Alicia when she used to go riding,’ he said. ‘I remember when I was very little, she would ride like the wind. Even Grandfather’s race horses sometimes.’

  ‘I am not that accomplished,’ Diana said. ‘And I have not ridden for years. A gentle hack will suffice.’

  ‘Then a gentle hack you shall have.’

  Their horses had been brought round to the side of the house by a groom who helped Diana to mount Mayfly while Richard flung himself easily into the saddle of Thunderer. They rode across the park, crossed the river bridge and made for the heath. He watched her, noting how well she rode; the old mare responded to her every move. After a few minutes, during which neither spoke, she put her horse to a canter. He followed, keeping half a head behind her. When she decided to gallop, he followed suit, laughing.

  ‘A gentle hack, you said,’ he commented when they fell back to a walk.

  ‘I had forgotten how exhilarating it could be.’

  ‘You ride well.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Would you like to visit my grandfather’s stables?’

  ‘Yes, very much.’ At the stables there would be other people; she was afraid of being alone with him for any length of time. She certainly did not want to be quizzed, either about Stephen and whether she was going to accept him, or about her father. Today Papa had told her more than he ever had before and it had opened her eyes to his childhood. There was no shame in being brought up in an orphanage, but if he had been taken there because his mother was unmarried, it would make all the difference.

  She wondered if that was why she had been brought to Borstead Hall, not to help with the party, but so that her antecedents could be investigated. Were Mr John and Stephen doing that in London even now, as she rode, or was that Richard’s task? After all, he had quizzed her and her father. She smiled grimly to herself; perhaps the decision whether to marry Stephen or not would be taken out of her hands. The daughter of a man who did not know who his own parents were would not be considered an acceptable wife for Stephen. To people like the Harecrofts, having known roots was of prime importance. Was that why Richard had not married Lucy?

  ‘A penny for them,’ he asked.

  His voice startled her. ‘What? Oh, I was miles away.’

  ‘Where? With Stephen at Harecroft’s Emporium, wondering if he is thinking of you?’ He paused, watching for her reaction, but when she said nothing, added, ‘I do not find that very flattering.’

  ‘I am sorry. I will try to pay attention in future. What were you saying?’

  ‘I was asking if you liked to watch horse racing.’

  ‘I did in Calcutta. They had some fine races there. We have not gone to the races since we returned to England. My life has been too busy.’

  ‘Of course. We must not forget you work for a living.’

  She was aware of the irony in his tone but ignored it. ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘But if you marry Stephen you will not need to.’

  ‘I enjoy my work and Stephen intimated that he would be happy for me to work alongside him as your great-grandmother did for your great-grandfather.’

  ‘Did he? Then you would make your home in London and not in Borstead.’

  ‘I suppose so. Does that make a difference?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said.

  They rode on in silence, each thinking their own thoughts while very conscious of the other. Richard had learned more about James Bywater and decided most of what the man had said was new to his daughter. If there was a conspiracy for her to join the family for gain, she was not part of it. She was truly innocent and he regretted his suspicions, suspicions engendered by his great-grandmother. Did Diana love Stephen? Stephen had always been selfish, even as a child. He had a way of wheedling what he wanted from Papa and Mama, and often did not consider the impact of that on other people. The death of Pal was a case in point. It was Stephen’s dog that had worried the sheep. The dogs were brothers and looked alike, but Stephen’s way of treating his dog was very different from his own and as a result the dog was disobedient, unmanageable and vicious. There had been no point in bringing that to the notice of his father, who would not have believed him. And so Pal had died and some of Richard, the child, had died with him. If Stephen wanted Diana, he would do his utmost to have her, no matter who else might be hurt. But he could not tell her that, it would be disloyal and, like his father over the dog, she would not believe it.

  ‘Where did you meet Miss Standish?’ she asked him suddenly.

  ‘Lucy? In London. At supper after an evening at the theatre with friends. She came into the eating house where we were enjoying pork chops and boiled potatoes, I remember.’

  ‘The friends who are living with you now?’

  ‘Yes, Freddie and Joe.’

  ‘So she came to live with you.’

  ‘Yes. It seemed the easiest solution.’ He did not enlarge on that and his answers, though not exactly reluctant, were guarded. She understood that and refrained from asking him why he had not married Lucy. It would make him angry and she hated being the object of his anger.

  They were approaching the stables, a series of buildings round an open square. In a paddock nearby horses grazed, among them the white colt. ‘Do you think he can win?’ she asked.

  ‘It depends on the going. Soft to firm is good, but at the moment it is too hard. If we do not have rain, I think my grandfather might withdraw him. There is no sense in risking a valuable animal.’ They dismounted and walked their horses to the fence round the paddock and stood leaning on the bars watching the horses. A stable hand joined them.

  ‘Afternoon, Mr Harecroft.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Jarman. Will North Wind run?’

  ‘Dunno, ’tis in the lap of the gods. His lordship will make a decision on Friday morning.’

  ‘If he runs, is he worth a wager?’

  The man laughed. ‘Now, sir, you know ’tis more than my job’s worth to venture an opinion on that.’

  ‘Then we shall have to make up our own minds. Is it permissible to show Miss Bywater round the stables?’

  ‘I will ask your grandfather. He is about somewhere. I’ll tell him you are here.’ And with that he strode off.

  ‘He was being very circumspect,’ Diana ventured.

  ‘Yes, if it leaks out that Grandfather has a horse running with more than a good chance of winning, it will shorten the odds and that would not be desirable. Ah, there is Grandfather.’

  They led their horses towards the old man, who strode out to greet them and stayed with them while they hitched their own mounts to railings and then showed them round himself. Everywhere was spotless and well ordered and it was apparent to Diana that there was a true rapport between the two men. If Richard did not get on with his father, his grandfather compensated for it. They talked knowledgeably about the horses, while she listened and admired the whole arrangement, from the pristine buildings and shining tackle to the busy stable lads and well-groomed animals. Afterwards they returned to their mounts and rode slowly back to Borstead Hall.

  They crossed the little bridge over the brook, but instead of riding on, he reined in and dismounted. ‘There is something else I would like you to see,’ he said, turning and holding out his hands to help her down. She pu
t her hands in his and jumped lightly to the ground.

  She looked up to thank him and found him gazing down at her with a puzzled expression on his face, as if he could not quite understand how he came to be there. It was gone in an instant and he was smiling, but something hung in the air between them, something almost tangible, a thread, thin as a hair, strong as wire. ‘You will have to be very, very quiet.’ His voice was so cool, so normal, she was taken aback, though she did not know what she expected. Warmth perhaps, but that was silly, considering she was doing her best not to let him see the unnerving effect he had on her.

  He let go of her hands and led her a little way along the bank where he stopped to take off his coat and spread it on the grass. ‘Sit down,’ he whispered. ‘And don’t move or say a word.’

  Puzzled, but trusting, she obeyed. He sat beside her, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body, making every nerve in her own tingle. ‘Now what?’ she asked, whispering herself because he had done so, though she did not know the reason for it.

  He put a finger on her lips and the pressure of that finger sent her giddy with desire and she had to take firm hold of herself to stop herself moaning. She wanted him, oh, how she wanted him! It was disgraceful, wanton and impossible.

  ‘We wait,’ he murmured.

  And so they waited, sitting side by side with the sun beating on their backs and the cool water lapping at their feet, saying nothing. She did not know what she was waiting for—it could have been anything or nothing, significant or insignificant.

  And then she saw it, a bright flash of iridescent green and blue, alighting on the overhanging branch of a willow. ‘A kingfisher,’ she breathed. As she watched, it flew down to the water like a well-aimed dart and then surfaced with a wriggling fish in its beak and flew back to the bush, trailing sparkling droplets of water. ‘Oh, it is so beautiful!’ She turned towards him, eyes shining. ‘Thank you, thank you for showing it to me.’