by Anne Herries
‘Good-afternoon, Miss Hayes,’ a deep voice said from behind her, causing Annabel to swing round in surprise. ‘Are you enjoying the music?’
‘Viscount Wrexham?’ she said, her heart beating like a drum. She looked up into his eyes, remembering the last time they had spoken. ‘Yes, it is pleasant to be entertained outdoors on such a lovely day is it not?’
‘Every day can be a lovely day if you know how to enjoy it,’ Harry Wrexham said. He wondered if she would remember him. Her words had seemed to hint at it when they spoke by the river, but he had not been certain enough to remind her. Their meeting had been brief, and he had had more cause to recall it than she – for he had been shot at by one of her father’s keepers a few days later when he was destroying more of the cruel traps he had discovered. ‘But it is good to feel the sun on your face…perhaps not for you…’ A husky laugh escaped him as he looked at the exquisite parasol she was carrying. ‘Young ladies are not supposed to have freckles I think…though you had them once I seem to recall.’ He waited for her reaction and saw her eyes light up.
‘It was you…’ Annabel breathed, feeling a thrill of excitement. ‘I thought about what you told me that day and I asked my father if it was true. He denied it and instructed my governess to beat me. I was forbidden to visit the woods, but I came a few times. I never saw you again.’
‘I had to be careful,’ Harry told her. ‘Your father’s keepers had been given orders to shoot if they saw me.’
‘No…’ Annabel’s hand crept to her throat for she was shocked that her father could have done such a thing. ‘If that is true it was a wicked thing to do.’
‘Not so very wicked,’ Harry replied. ‘I was trespassing and I had no right to destroy property that belonged to the estate.’
‘Did you do so?’ Annabel asked, her eyes searching his face. ‘Yes, of course you did. I saw the way you cared for that fox-cub. I have never forgotten it – or my father’s reaction when I asked him about the traps.’
‘You must not be angry with him,’ Harry said, his expression serious now. ‘He is no worse than many others of his class – landed gentry. Your father’s first concern is to protect his property, Miss Hayes, and his money pays for your clothes and pretty baubles, just as my father’s money pays for mine.’
Annabel flushed for she felt that he was censuring her and her way of life. ‘And does your father not use keepers to protect his property?’
‘Yes – but they do not set traps nor do they shoot people who use the woods. Had it been otherwise, I should not have taken his charity – or his blessing, as he prefers to call his generosity.’
‘I see…’ Annabel hated it that her father had used the cruel traps she had seen, but she was somehow hurt by the viscount’s manner. ‘Excuse me, I must join my friends…’
She walked away, her head high. He was right to censure the behaviour of her father’s keepers, for she knew that the laws concerning poachers and trespassers was harsh indeed, and that men might be hung for breaking it. Yet what could she do to stop such cruelty? Women were almost powerless for they had no say in making the laws, and many were ruled by their husband’s wishes. A shudder went through her for she thought that she would not care to be married to a man of her father’s calibre.
Merry turned to her as she approached, her eyebrows lifting as if inquiring what had kept her, but Annabel shook her head. Her meeting with Viscount Wrexham had served only to make her more confused. A part of her had felt a powerful attraction to him, and every time they spoke, her heart beat very fast, but she had a feeling that he had deliberately put a barrier in place between them, and she could only think it was because of her father. He clearly despised Lord Hayes, and perhaps he also despised her.
* * *
Watching her walk away, Harry felt a pang of regret for he sensed that he had hurt her – and yet would it be wise to form a closer relationship with her? Nothing could come of it but heartbreak – for either of them.
He frowned as he thought of what her father would say if he knew the truth of Harry’s birth – that he was the son of a gypsy girl and had been living rough in the woods for most of his life. His education had begun only when his father had decided to take him in and give him his name, and though Harry had found some lessons easy to learn, being quick and clever at most things, he knew that he would never truly be a gentleman. Nor did he wish to ape the manners of some of the men he met in society.
Sutherland was the exception. He had offered genuine friendship and the two men got on well together, but in his heart Harry knew that he was only tolerated by this society because of his father and his friend.
Given the choice he would retire to the country and live the life of a well to do farmer, but his father wanted him to become a gentleman and that meant he must at least stay in town for a few months.
Harry’s father did not have long to live. It was because he had no other living relative that he’d taken his baseborn son into his home.
‘Rather you than the state,’ he’d said as he explained his reasons. ‘Without an heir the title and fortune goes to the Crown – and I’m damned if I’ll allow that when I have a son. You look a little like me and had I known my Emma would never give me a child I’d have acknowledged you years ago. However, there’s no point in crying over spilt milk. You must simply learn fast.’
Harry had agreed. He’d agreed for his own reasons, which did not include the very generous allowance his father had given him when they’d shaken hands on the deal. As the son of a gypsy woman he’d had no influence, but as a landowner he hoped to bring in much needed reforms and was considering taking a seat in the House of Lords when his father died.
Harry’s anger about the fox cub was only one of the things that induced him to take the position his father offered. Some of the poor folk were treated even worse than those cubs. Men could be hung for stealing a loaf or taking game from a rich lord’s woods. Harry was not sure what he could do to change customs that had been in force for years, but he meant to do what he could.
His father was a Justice of the Peace and the position would pass to Harry shortly. At least then he could make certain that the men, women and children brought before him would be given a fair hearing and justice.
After his mother’s death, Harry had left the gypsy camp. He’d joined a travelling fair and was taking part in bare knuckle fights when his father saw him, knew him for his son, and made his offer. Harry had been reluctant at first but then he’d accepted, and having given his word, would do his best to become what his father wanted.
However, he hadn’t reckoned with meeting Miss Annabelle Hayes. Harry had a score to settle with her father – a man who did not stop at trapping foxes in his woods, but also used them on men unwary enough to poach in his woods. One of Harry’s friends had been caught and maimed for life by a cruel trap that had bitten deep into his flesh and resulted in his losing a leg, for the poison had spread up to the knee.
Josh would never run or wrestle again and had become a hopeless drunk, a man who would probably die before he was thirty.
How could Harry even think of the girl who was the daughter of his enemy? Even if she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.
* * *
Merry was ready and waiting when Earl Sutherland called for her the next day. He had brought a lovely chestnut filly for her to ride, and his groom held its head while he assisted her into the saddle.
‘Firefly is quite a spirited mount,’ he told her as she took the reins into her own hands, ‘but well trained. Treat her firmly but with respect and she will give you no trouble.’
‘She is lovely,’ Merry said and leaned across the filly’s neck to pat her and murmur soft words into her ear. The filly responded by snickering and tossing her head, but Merry found her easy to manage as they moved off at a steady pace. ‘Are we going to Hyde Park?’
‘I thought we would ride in Rotten Row,’ he replied. ‘It is the fashionable place and we shall mee
t our friends, and it will be quite respectable.’
Merry looked at him curiously. ‘You sound as if you would prefer to ride elsewhere?’
‘Do you not like to gallop in open countryside?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Merry agreed, for there was nothing like being able to give a horse its head, to feel the wind in your hair and the exhilaration of being carried swiftly by a powerful horse. ‘Yes, but I believe that must be for the country, sir, where one can please oneself.’
‘How very right you are, Miss Hamilton,’ he said, a flicker of amusement about his mouth. ‘Tell me, are you enjoying your visit to town?’
‘Yes…and no,’ Merry sighed. ‘You will think me hard to please if I tell you that sometimes I should like to hide away and be quiet. Indeed, last evening, I managed to slip away to my host’s library for half an hour. He had some interesting books but I only had time to browse the shelf for my aunt would have been concerned had I been longer. She asked me where I had been and was not pleased that I had sought the sanctuary of the library.’
‘One of my favourite places when I wish to hide,’ Sutherland said and laughed. ‘So you prefer the country life?’
‘Oh, I do not mean that I am not enjoying myself,’ Merry said and pulled a face at him. ‘I like to meet my friends – particularly Annabel, but I do not always want to go out every evening.’
‘You must remember that your aunt has a job to do, Miss Hamilton. She is here to make sure that you are noticed, and that you meet as many eligible gentlemen as possible. When you decide to marry one of those gentlemen, you will be mistress of your own home. Then you will be able to choose how often you accept boring invitations.’
‘As you do?’ she asked, her right eyebrow arching. ‘I have noticed that you attend only those functions that you choose, sir.’
‘You have found me out,’ he said and made a wry face at her. ‘I am a sad trial to my sister, who has been trying to find me a wife for more years than I care to remember.’
‘I am sure you are more than capable of finding a lady you like yourself when you are ready, sir.’
‘Indeed, that is my feeling,’ he said and was clearly amused. ‘It seems that we are in much the same position, Miss Hamilton. We both have well meaning friends who are in a hurry to see us settled. It is unfortunate, but something we must bear with I believe?’
‘I have no choice, for it is expected that I shall marry, and in the end I must oblige my family,’ Merry said with a little frown. ‘I have sometimes wished that I might be like Samantha, but I know it would never be allowed…’
Sutherland was intrigued. ‘May I ask who Samantha is?’
‘She is just the most wonderful person in the whole world,’ Merry said, her face lighting up, eyes glowing. ‘She was my teacher and she…made me feel that life was worth living again after my father died and my mother remarried.’
‘You did not like your stepfather?’
‘I think he did not much like me…I was in the way, you see. My mother sent me to school and it was the best thing she ever did for me. Samantha is so special…and of course there was the wishing well. It was a magical place.’
‘Now I am intrigued,’ he said, eyes dancing with laughter. ‘A wishing well? That is interesting. Tell me, did you make a wish?’
‘Yes – we both did, Annabel and I – but I cannot tell you what I wished for, because it would not then come true. Isn’t that what people say when they pull the wishbone of a chicken?’
‘Goodness gracious – do they?’ Sutherland looked astonished. ‘I begin to think that I have been lacking in my education. Did you learn these things from Samantha?’
‘Miss Merlin taught us lots of things,’ Merry said, sensing that he was teasing her. ‘But the wishbone was my father. He told me many things like that, and when I lost a tooth he would tell me to hide it for the tooth fairies. There was always a silver three-penny piece when I looked in the morning. Of course, I knew it was my father, but he made it fun for me, and it stopped my tears when my tooth hurt.’
‘You loved him very much, did you not?’ Sutherland’s voice was soft, almost a caress. ‘You must have felt a great loss when he died – and then you were sent away. That must have been terrible for you.’
‘Yes, it was,’ Merry said. She was not sure why she had confided so much to him. It was unlike her to unburden her heart, and the only other people she had ever told about her father’s gentle love were Annabel and Samantha.
They had reached the entrance to the park, and she spurred her horse forward, a little embarrassed that she had opened her heart to him. It was a moment or two before she heard the thud of his horse’s hooves and she realized that he had given her a start, perhaps sensing that she was feeling emotional. However, she had recovered now and they raced side by side for a few minutes, and then proceeded at a more leisurely pace until they could see the long water of Kensington Park. The lake was actually half in the park and half in the grounds of Kensington. In the park it was called the Serpentine and much beloved of those who came to enjoy its facility, but the water the other side was somehow more pleasing with the sunlight dancing on its ruffled surface.
‘This is a lovely spot,’ Merry remarked, and turned to her companion, surprising an odd expression on his face. ‘Do you not think so?’
‘It is well enough,’ Sutherland said. ‘However, I prefer my own park in the country – and Scotland, of course. I have a shooting estate there and the scenery can be beautiful, especially when the heather is out.’
‘I believe my father used to stay at an estate in Scotland sometimes,’ Merry said. ‘But I have never been…’
‘You must one day,’ he said and smiled. ‘I think we should return now or your family will imagine that I have kidnapped you.’
‘No, I do not think so,’ Merry said. ‘My aunt likes you very well, sir, or she would not have allowed me to come. Shall you be at Lady Weston’s tomorrow evening?’
‘I fear not,’ he replied. ‘I believe I must visit my estate for a few days – there is some problem with a tenancy that apparently only I can sort out.’
‘Oh…’ Merry struggled to hide her disappointment. ‘Shall you return in time for my dance, sir?’
‘Yes, I hope so,’ he told her. ‘I did not wish to leave at this time, but duty is inescapable when it is something of this nature. I cannot promise, but I shall strive to be here for that evening, Miss Hamilton.’
‘Then I shall look forward to seeing you there,’ Merry said. She smiled at him, determined that he should not guess how upset she was at the thought of not seeing him for several days. ‘Perhaps we should return now. I would not wish my aunt to worry.’
They rode back in silence, a slight awkwardness between them. Merry put on a brave face and thanked him for an enjoyable ride when he came to help her down from her mount. He was polite, gentle as he held her and slightly regretful, but she felt that he had withdrawn from her. Earlier they had seemed so much closer, and it was as if there was suddenly a barrier between them. She had thought they were becoming friends, but once again he had withdrawn.
‘Goodbye, sir, and thank you again,’ Merry said as she took her leave of him. She did not ask him to come in for refreshments and he said nothing more about when she might look to see him again.
Walking into the house, Merry felt as if a dark cloud had fallen over her. Had she been too confiding earlier? Had she made him think that it would not do to show too much interest in her? Something had made him draw back, and it must have been something in her for he had been charming to her earlier.
‘Ah, Merry, there you are, my dear.’ Lady Melbourne frowned as she came into the hall and saw her. ‘Sutherland did not come in with you? I dare say he had urgent business elsewhere. Perhaps it is just as well, for your Mama has this minute arrived and she is not in the best of moods. She wanted to know where you were and I had to tell her of course.’
‘Is Mama upstairs?’ Merry said, her spirits sinking even fu
rther. ‘I must go up and greet her. I did not think she intended to come until next week.’
‘I think she may have had a quarrel with your stepfather,’ Lady Melbourne said thoughtfully. ‘She mentioned something and it may be the cause of her mood.’
‘I shall go up to her at once.’
Merry collected her letters from the salver in the hall and ran up the stairs. Her mother had a sharp tongue and if she was upset about something, she would take it out on her daughter. It seemed as if the glow of pleasure that had warmed Merry since her first meeting with the Earl of Sutherland had gone. She would no longer see him at the various functions they attended, and her mother would want to know why Jane already had an admirer and she did not.
She would open her post later, for she had noticed one with Lady Rutledge’s crest on the seal, and she was curious as to why that lady had written to her.
* * *
‘Why do you not have a white gown for the dance this evening?’ Lady Standen said looking at her daughter in disapproval. ‘White is much the best colour for a gel of your age.’
‘White makes me look insipid,’ Merry told her. ‘I prefer pastels or even deeper colours sometimes, Mama..’
‘And I suppose your aunt allowed you to have your way,’ her mother said with a sniff. ‘I might have known how it would be if I was not here to guide you. Well, there is nothing to be done about it now for I cannot afford to buy more clothes for you, Meredith. Goodness knows, it has cost enough already.’
‘My aunt has born most of the cost of this visit,’ Merry said, stung by her mother’s criticism. Lady Standen had done nothing but complain the whole time since she arrived, and Merry felt as if she wanted to run away and hide. ‘I am sorry if you disapprove but I enjoy wearing the gowns we chose.’