by Anne Herries
‘I was reliant on my aunt for my clothes, but my lawyer has arranged for an allowance to be paid into a bank for me so I may buy a new wardrobe.’
‘I am glad that you will have some money of your own, Jenny dear. We none of us knew exactly how you had been left.’
‘I am not certain now, ma’am,’ Jenny said, glad of the chance to raise the subject. ‘But Mr Nodgrass says I shall be comfortable. He is to send on a copy of his accounts when they have been transcribed.’
‘That will be a blessing for you, my love,’ her kind friend said. ‘For myself I care not if you have a fortune or not a feather to fly with. We are so happy and grateful to have you with us at this sad time. I hope you will not think of leaving us too soon?’
‘Oh, no, ma’am. I should not dream of leaving you until things are more settled and Lucy is happy again.’
‘What a sweet girl you are, and just what Lucy needs at this time to keep her cheerful. Now I must get on for there is much to arrange...’
The girls left her busy with her household plans and went out into the gardens. They walked as far as the park and then found the dry trunk of a fallen tree where they could sit and look about them, enjoying the shade of the trees and the sound of birdsong.
* * *
It was there that the gentlemen found them some thirty minutes or more later.
‘Your mama thought you might have come this way,’ Paul said. ‘Adam and I have been making enquiries in the villages surrounding Ravenscar and Dawlish, in case anyone had noticed a stranger lurking about—someone who seemed to have no real business in the area.’
‘And have you found anyone?’ Jenny asked, because Lucy was deliberately staring away into the distance, as if she could not bear to look at Paul.
‘We heard that a stranger passed this way yesterday. His coach was remarked for it had a coat of arms, though, as the passer-by could not recall what it was, it does not help much. However, it seems to point to the rogue being a gentleman—by birth if not by nature.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Jenny nodded. ‘That would make sense, I think—for if there was a quarrel it would most likely be with someone Mark was accustomed to play cards with, do you not think?’
Jenny glanced at Adam, who was silent and frowning.
‘I think it must have been someone Mark did not know well,’ Paul said thoughtfully. ‘For some reason he was obliged to sit down with him, though what happened we shall never know.’
‘Unless Hallam comes up with some clues,’ Adam put in.
‘Can you not speak of anything else?’ Lucy asked, her nerves clearly fraying. ‘We are going to Bath very soon. At least there I shall have some pleasant conversation.’
She walked off as if in some distress. Jenny shot a look of apology at the two gentlemen.
‘Lucy cannot bear to talk of it,’ she explained. ‘I should not have asked. Excuse me, I must follow her.’
‘Jenny...’ Adam said as she began to walk after her friend. ‘I wanted to tell you that I am going down to my grandfather’s estate in Cornwall. I shall be gone some days—so when I see you again it will be in Bath.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Jenny fought to keep her smile in place. ‘We shall of course look forward to seeing you there. I dare say Lucy will be in a better humour by then.’
‘She is entitled to be angry,’ Paul said. ‘Mark should be alive and planning his wedding. When I catch that devil he will wish he’d never been born.’ He turned his horse and rode off as if pursued by all the demons in hell.
‘Paul, too, is out of sorts,’ Adam said. ‘I assure you he is not normally this touchy.’
He got down from his horse and stood looking at her. Jenny felt her spine tingle for the look in his eyes was so intense that it seemed to burn her. She felt her insides melting with longing and looked away.
‘I think no one could remain unaffected by what has happened,’ Jenny said. ‘It will be much better for Lucy when we are in Bath. Here she is reminded at every turn. People come every day to pay their respects and she is obliged to thank them and listen to their professions of sorrow. It is not what one needs at such times. I found the sympathy of others hard to bear after Papa died.’
‘Your father’s death was caused by a driving accident?’
‘It appeared so,’ Jenny frowned. ‘I have never been certain. I know he lost a large sum of money shortly before his death.’
‘You do not think he took his own life?’
‘No, that is not at all what I think.’ Jenny drew a deep breath. ‘I think something happened—something similar to what happened to Paul yesterday, but Papa was not so lucky. His neck was broken in the fall and he died instantly...so they tell me. I am led to believe he did not suffer.’
Jenny’s eyes had filled with tears. She blinked them away, brushing her cheeks with her hand.
‘Forgive me, I should not have asked.’
Adam came towards her, offering his hand. He touched her cheek, which must be pale, and her hands trembled. She allowed it for a moment and then flinched away.
His touch aroused feelings quite unsuitable to the situation. He meant only to comfort, she knew, but she trembled inwardly and wished that he would take her into his arms. It seemed that a fire had begun to rage inside her. She wanted to be held close to his chest, to feel the brush of his lips against her hair—if she were truthful, to be kissed. No, no, it was too foolish of her!
‘I thought I was quite over it,’ Jenny said, determined to remain calm and not disgrace herself by revealing her longings, ‘but my aunt and uncle were so practical. They accepted it was an accident and...’ She shook her head. If she told him what her uncle had done—selling all her father’s possessions unnecessarily—she would have to tell him that she was not the penniless companion he thought her. Her instinct was always to tell the truth, but she could not find the words to confess it—and it would not do to raise hopes of a fortune when she had no idea how much she actually had.
‘Tears for a loved one never hurt,’ Adam said and smiled down at her. His eyes seemed to caress her, then he bent his head and kissed her. It was a sweet gentle kiss that called the heart from her body and made her want to melt into him, to be his in every way.
‘Adam...’ she murmured. ‘I think...’
He seemed to recall himself and frowned. ‘Forgive me, I should not have done that. It was wrong of me. I had no right. I can never...’
‘Never...’ She looked up at him, trying to understand why he had withdrawn so suddenly when his body seemed to call to hers.
‘My situation is intolerable,’ Adam said and turned away, a nerve flicking at his temple. ‘I am hoping I may discover some way of rescuing my grandfather from his problems. The mine played out its copper seams years ago, but perhaps some other use may be found for the land. I must see what I can do, because the alternative is unthinkable.’
‘I hope you find something,’ Jenny said. ‘It must be difficult for you.’
‘Difficult is not the word I should use.’ Adam seemed to glare down at her, clearly in some distress. ‘Excuse me, I should go after Paul before he breaks his foolish neck—and you should go to Lucy. I dare say she is in tears.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’ Jenny tried not to show her hurt as he remounted his horse, hardly looking at her. He had kissed her as if he meant it, but now he’d withdrawn behind a barrier of ice. She inclined her head politely. ‘I am glad to have seen you again before we leave, sir. I wish you good fortune.’
‘I shall need it,’ he said ruefully, then turned his horse and set out after Paul at a canter.
Jenny blinked hard as he rode away. For a moment he had seemed to promise so much, but then he’d withdrawn from her. She would be foolish to let herself hope that he would offer her more than friendship. She must not expect it or let herself think of it!
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br /> Yet she had thought of it. Was she wrong to think that he liked her as much as she liked him? Or was that simply wishful thinking—a longing for the kind of happiness she’d never known?
Jenny saw Lucy some little distance ahead and ran to catch her up. As Adam had forecast she was crying, dabbing at her cheeks with a scrap of lace kerchief.
‘Paul did not mean to upset you,’ Jenny said. ‘They think only of catching that man—and of punishing him.’
‘I wish they may do so,’ Lucy said angrily. ‘Why will Paul not look at me? It is as if he blames me for what happened to his brother.’
‘No, how could he?’ Jenny was caught by her strange expression. ‘I thought you blamed him for it?’
Lucy’s voice caught on a sob. ‘Paul would never...but now he will not speak to me or look at me. If he catches me looking at him, he scowls as if he hated me.’
‘I am certain he does not,’ Jenny said and put an arm about her waist. ‘I think he is in so much pain that he scarcely knows what to think.’
‘Even when he was thrown from his horse he would not look at me,’ Lucy said. ‘We all heard the shot. We know that someone tried to hurt, perhaps to kill him—but yesterday he accused me of thinking he’d arranged the accident to deflect suspicion from him. As if I would think such a thing.’
‘Did you tell him so?’
Lucy’s cheeks flushed red. ‘He made me cross. I said that the idea was only in his mind and that only he knew what had put it there.’
‘Oh, Lucy—that does sound as if you blame him,’ Jenny said, her gaze narrowed. ‘Why did you say such a thing to him?’
‘I do not know,’ Lucy confessed tearfully. ‘It is just that everything is so horrid and my mind is in turmoil. I feel guilty because I was not in love with Mark, as everyone believed.’
‘Yes, I know, but you must not let it affect your relationships with others,’ Jenny said. ‘You like Paul. Why do you not show him that you still value his friendship?’
‘I...cannot,’ Lucy said. ‘If he would be as he was at the ball, charming and sweet...but he has changed. He is cold and bitter and angry—angry with me. I do not know what I’ve done to make him so.’
‘I think his anger is as much frustration as anything,’ Jenny said. ‘He loved his brother and at the moment he can do nothing to avenge him. That is why it is so important to them all to find the rogue. Besides, if he attempted to kill Paul, he is a dangerous man. He needs to be on his guard.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Lucy shuddered. ‘If anything happened to Paul I could not stand it—I really could not, Jenny.’
‘I am sure it will not,’ Jenny comforted, though she knew that it was possible unless Paul took more care of his safety. ‘I dare say the rogue has left the area. He must know that he is being searched for.’
‘Yes, word will have spread and people will be watching for a stranger who has no business in the area,’ Lucy agreed. ‘Now, please may we forget it and talk of something else?’
‘I am determined to read Miss Austen’s latest novel as soon as I can take it from the library,’ Jenny said. ‘Though there is no reason why I should not subscribe to my own copy. Your mama subscribes to parcels of the latest novels, does she not?’ Lucy nodded and Jenny smiled. ‘Then perhaps she will furnish me with the address of her supplier. Books are a luxury my aunt thought unnecessary. She said why buy them when it was possible to borrow—and my uncle thought both novels and poetry a waste of time. Now I can please myself and I think I shall purchase a set of Lord Byron’s works as well as Miss Austen’s—and Fanny Burney’s, too.’
‘I always borrow Mama’s and I’m sure you could too,’ Lucy said. ‘But if you wish to set up a library of your own it would be the greatest fun. We could draw up lists and discover what bindings they come in. When you have a house of your own your books might look very smart set out on the shelves if you have them covered in red or green leather.’
‘I know it is possible to buy such sets,’ Jenny said, warming to the subject, because it pleased Lucy. ‘I must enquire the price. I’ve been used to economy these past months, but there is no reason why I should not treat myself to a few pleasures.’
‘There is little more satisfying than a new book,’ Lucy said. ‘When one looks at the cover there is so much to discover, so much to explore. One never knows where the author will take one or what kind of adventures the poor heroine must endure.’ She laughed. ‘I think I should not like to be the heroine in Udolpho, though I loved reading it.’
‘Yes, so did I,’ Jenny said. ‘I had to smuggle it into my bedroom so that my aunt should not see it—but I do have my own copy of that book. It is bound in cloth, not leather, but the story is just as wonderful.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Lucy agreed. ‘Nothing is worse than row after row of boring books in leather. They look well, but one cannot read them—but how delightful it must be to have one’s favourite books bound so. It is an indulgence, of course...’
Jenny could do nothing but agree. Lucy’s spirits had lifted and, in helping to cheer her friend, she had found some ease from her own distress.
She was looking forward to the trip to Bath, and, if Adam had gone to Cornwall, she had nothing to stay here for—but she felt the loss of his company keenly. She had seen him almost every day since that fatal day when he’d taken her up from the side of the road and she was going to miss him. Her heart raced every time she saw him approaching her and she was very much afraid that she might have fallen in love. It was ridiculous of her, of course, but she feared it might have happened that first night at Ravenscar.
If only Adam felt the same. Had his grandfather not been in sore need, she was sure her fortune would have been enough to help him improve his own estate for the benefit of their children, giving them a comfortable life together. Unfortunately, she was not sure it amounted to enough to pay the earl’s debts.
Jenny would not have grudged the money had it enabled Adam to do what was needed. She had no desire to wear ostentatious jewels and one simple carriage would be sufficient. A short stay in London in a house hired for the Season would content her and if Adam’s fortune were modest it would be enough—but he was determined to settle the earl’s debts and she was not sure it could be done.
No, she would not dwell on such things. Adam had told her he intended to visit his grandfather’s estate in the hope of improving the situation and perhaps he would. Sometimes when a mine ran out of copper it was possible to find a vein of some other precious metal, like tin or silver.
How wonderful that would be!
Jenny smiled at her own thoughts. Such things only occurred in novels. It was far more likely that the land was worthless and could not even be sold.
* * *
‘I was never more glad of someone’s company,’ Lady Dawlish said to Jenny some days later. ‘Indeed, I do not know what we should have done had you not been kind enough to come here and stay. I have never seen my poor Lucy so down and I do not know how to lift her. I am afraid that she will sink into a decline.’
‘I do not think it, ma’am,’ Jenny told her with a smile. ‘It is true that she soars from the depths to the heights and back again, but she is stronger than you may imagine. I am certain she will recover once we are in Bath. Here, everything reminds her of Mark.’
‘They were always together, even when they were little. Indeed, she and Paul were of an age and they tagged after Mark. He was always the leader, the golden god they all wanted to notice them. Until Lucy went away to finishing school I thought nothing would come of it. Then both Mark and Paul joined the army. It was when Mark was home on leave and Lucy had just returned from her school that they first became attracted to each other in that way.’
‘Yet they were not engaged immediately?’
‘I was determined that Lucy must have at least one Season. Dawlish and Ravensca
r had always promoted the marriage, but I was not certain until Lucy told me that he had asked her to wait for him until that last campaign was over. Mark did not wish her to be a widow before she was hardly a wife and I agreed. I think her papa and Ravenscar would have liked a wedding sooner, but I wanted Lucy to be certain.’
‘Yes, I see. It was very sensible of you, ma’am. What should you have done had Lucy changed her mind and decided they would not suit?’
‘I should have supported her and taken her away—to Paris or the Italian lakes. Her papa would have been disappointed and Ravenscar, too—but I would not have allowed her to be pushed into a marriage she could not like. Now of course we must think of another match for her. I believe an older man might suit her, for Lucy likes to be spoiled, and I think perhaps Mark did not always dance to her tune.’
‘I met him only once in London,’ Jenny said. ‘Was he like his brother?’
‘Not at all. Mark was larger than life—one might even say arrogant at times. He was given homage and expected it, though one could not grudge him for he was a truly talented man. At riding, shooting, wrestling—any sport—he excelled. He was also clever, though his taste in reading did not extend to poetry or novels. He had a serious mind and would no doubt have taken his seat in the House one day. He laughed at Lucy for reading trash and thought she should improve her mind.’
‘But Lucy loves poetry and novels.’ Jenny looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I am not certain he was the right husband for her, ma’am.’
‘Perhaps not. I had wondered if she was beginning to realise it—and then of course he was killed. One is not certain how to behave. The Ravenscars are our particular friends, of course, and Papa thinks we should share their grief—but why should my poor girl suffer?’
‘I think it very hard for her,’ Jenny said. She knew more than Lucy’s mother, but could not betray a confidence. ‘Yet I know that she is feeling better each day.’
‘Well, we are off the day after tomorrow,’ Lady Dawlish said. ‘I think I must ask Papa to pay a courtesy visit to Ravenscar to tell them we are leaving. However, there is no need for you or Lucy to accompany him. I think it could only distress Lucy again.’