by Mary Balogh
She rose and curtsied low when Lord Amberley led Alexandra into the room, and again when the two older ladies and James Purnell followed them. She peeped shyly into his lordship’s face when he presented Alexandra, and more searchingly into his betrothed’s. She looked up at Purnell from beneath her dark lashes and blushed becomingly.
Mr. Courtney pumped Lord Amberley’s hand and boomed his hearty congratulations. “I have been saying to Mrs. Courtney,” he declared, “and she agrees with me, your lordship, as do all my sons and little Susan here, that you could not have done better for us all in these parts than to present us with a new countess. No offense, ma’am.” He bowed and creaked in Lady Amberley’s direction. “But we will be particularly honored to have two Lady Amberleys.”
“Do be seated, sir,” Lady Amberley said, nodding graciously in acknowledgment of his compliment and seating herself after gesturing Lady Beckworth to another chair. “Yes, we are all delighted at the prospect of welcoming Miss Purnell into the family. She has done us a great honor. Do sit down, Miss Courtney. How pretty you are looking, my dear. Gracious, it seems but last year you were a child.”
The girl laughed. “I am all of seventeen, your ladyship,” she said. “I have been allowed to sit at table with guests and dance in company for the last year now. Papa had an offer for me just after Christmas, but it was not a very advantageous one. He asked me, but I begged him to decline. It was Mr. Watson.”
Mr. Courtney beamed fondly at his daughter. “We don’t have to sell our little girl to the first bidder,” he said with a rumbling laugh. “We can do better for her than Watson. I am sure you will agree, my lady.”
“And yet Watson is one of the more reliable and honest of my tenants,” Lord Amberley said. “Even if you could not accept his offer, Miss Courtney, I am sure that you must be gratified to have received it.”
“Oh, quite so, my lord,” she said, looking up under her lashes at James Purnell and blushing again. “But he is exactly twice my age. I must admit a preference for someone younger and more handsome.”
Lady Beckworth had been looking disapprovingly at Susan Courtney from the moment the girl had opened her mouth. “Age and looks have little to say in the choice of a husband,” she said. “I am surprised that your papa has allowed you a voice in the matter. He would probably make a far wiser choice than you.” She turned to Mr. Courtney. “A child of seventeen cannot know her own mind, sir.”
He laughed, seeming quite unoffended. “I always look at it this way, my lady,” he said. “It is little Susan here who will have to live with a husband for the next forty or fifty years, not me. She should at least be allowed to choose someone who will not make her feel ill every time she has to look at him.” He laughed heartily.
“You have a point there,” Lady Amberley said, exchanging an amused glance with her son. “Ah, here come Madeline and Dominic. And Sir Cedric.”
Miss Courtney jumped to her feet again and her father hauled himself to his.
“Ah, my lord and my lady,” he said. “It is always a treat to look on youth and fashion. And good day to you, sir.”
Susan meanwhile was curtsying to Madeline and darting glances at her fashionable muslin gown and short fair curls, and to Lord Eden and blushing.
“Why, it is Susan,” he said, coming forward and reaching for her hand. “It must be two years since I saw you last. You were a mere child.”
“I was sent to stay with my Aunt Henshaw last summer, my lord,” she said. “And I am seventeen now.”
“And all quite grown up,” he said, grasping her hand and keeping it within his. “And it used to be Dominic, Susan.”
“Oh,” she said breathlessly, “it would not be seemly now, my lord.”
“Do sit down,” he said. “May I sit here beside you? You must tell me if you still like to play with all the new kittens on your farm.”
“Twenty-three of them we had at the last count, your lordship,” Mr. Courtney said with a booming laugh. “My Howard drowns the new ones whenever he can, but if Miss here gets wind of it, she cries until we are all fit to cry with her.”
“They are such pretty, helpless creatures, my lord,” she said, looking earnestly up into Lord Eden’s eyes. “I do not know how anyone could be so cruel as to even think of killing them.” She peeped across at James Purnell, who was sitting close by, his eyes on her.
“Do you eat beef and pork and mutton and chicken, ma’am?” he asked unexpectedly.
“Why, yes,” she said with a blush. “We frequently have two meat dishes at a meal. More even if we have guests, as we frequently do.”
“Do you not pity the cows and pigs and sheep and chickens?” he said.
“One does not like the thought of killing them, naturally,” she said. “But one must eat, sir. I would not be able to endure watching the butchering, of course. I am perfectly sure I would quite faint away. I always do at the sight of the merest drop of blood.” She shifted her gaze back to Lord Eden.
“Perhaps it is a pity for their sakes that they are not pretty animals,” Purnell said.
Mr. Courtney laughed. “Right you are, sir,” he said. “We would be overrun with animals. And talking of guests, my lord.” He turned to address himself to Lord Amberley. “Mrs. Courtney sent me with the express purpose of inviting all present company to dinner tomorrow evening. Nothing very formal, you understand. Just four or five courses. A few more of our friends are to join us in the parlor afterward. Miss here has persuaded us to allow some dancing. Those of us who do not indulge in such exertions will play cards in the dining room when the covers have been removed.”
Lord Amberley smiled at Alexandra, seated beside him on a love seat, and took her hand in his. “We would be delighted to accept your invitation,” he said. “I have been telling Miss Purnell how eager I am to begin showing her off to my neighbors.”
“And I don’t wonder at it neither,” Mr. Courtney said. “Such a lovely lady. Mrs. Courtney and I are only anxious lest you decide to wed somewhere else. You would doubtless be able to invite dozens of fashionable guests if the nuptials were in London, but here you would be among friends, my lord. Friends and well-wishers.”
Lord Amberley smiled at Alexandra again. “We have not discussed the matter,” he said. “But we will have to consider your suggestion, will we not, my dear?”
“Yes,” she said, looking at his hand, in which her own lay, rather than into his eyes. She looked up at the beaming face of Mr. Courtney. “I think this is a good part of England, sir. Friends are important.”
“Right you are, miss,” he said. “I was about to take my leave with my little girl here, but I see the tea tray has just been brought in, and I never say no to a cup of tea.” He patted his ample stomach and laughed. “Perhaps it would be as well if I sometimes did.”
“Two of the officers from the regiment will be coming tomorrow night,” Susan was telling Lord Eden. “They were at the Misses Stanhope’s tea on Monday last and were excessively amiable. They accepted invitations from Sir Peregrine Lampman and Mrs. Cartwright as well as ours.”
“Indeed?” he said. “I do not know whether to be pleased or dismayed, Susan. Am I to have to compete against uniforms?”
“Oh, la,” she said, gazing at him with large hazel eyes, “you do not need a uniform to look handsome, my lord.”
He grinned at her. “I take that as a compliment, Susan,” he said. “Tell me, are there to be any waltzes tomorrow?”
“Mama said no at first,” she said. “But Captain Forbes particularly asked her at the Stanhope tea and he is so very fashionable that Mama could not bring herself to say no. Besides, Howard reminded her that all our guests from Amberley Court must be familiar with the waltz, having just come from London. Mama has said we may dance a few.”
“Splendid!” he said. “Will you reserve the first for me, Susan?”
“I do not believe I would be able to acquit myself well with such a fashionable gentleman,” she said with a blush.
“Nonsense,” he said. “What you do not know, it will be my delight to teach you, Susan.” He watched her dark eyelashes fan across her flushed cheeks, and glanced downward to her well-rounded breasts, which were moving with her quickened breathing beneath the thin muslin of her dress.
Lady Amberley began to pour the tea from a silver tea urn into Wedgwood china cups, and Madeline rose to her feet to hand them around.
MADELINE AND ALEXANDRA WENT strolling in the rose arbor after the guests had left. The day was still sunny and warm. The air was heavy with the perfumes of many flowers and made drowsy by the droning of insects and the humming of bees.
“We grew up in close association with several of our neighbors,” Madeline explained. “We were never made to feel as if we belonged to a race apart merely because we were from Amberley and had titles to our names.”
“Then you must have grown up with many friends,” Alexandra said. “That would have been pleasant.”
“And enemies,” Madeline said with a grin. “I never was popular with the boys because I always wanted to do whatever Dom was doing. And it was usually something forbidden or something deemed unsuitable for girls. Dominic and I were forever squabbling about the matter at home, though he would never criticize me in public.”
“But surely you were not allowed to play with the boys, anyway,” Alexandra said.
Madeline looked at her with a smile. “But of course,” she said. “There were no rules. Only what we children imposed upon ourselves or upon those weaker than ourselves. Children are inveterate bullies, you know.”
“I was never allowed playmates,” Alexandra said. “The rector’s children would have been considered suitable, perhaps, but they were all boys.”
“None?” Madeline said. “What a sad little girl you must have been. You were doubtless very happy when the time came to go away to school.”
“I was kept at home,” Alexandra said, “with a governess. Papa could never find a school of whose rules and moral principles he sufficiently approved.”
Madeline gazed at her in some horror. “You have never had friends?” she said. “How perfectly dreadful!”
“What one does not have, one does not miss,” Alexandra said. “And I had James.”
“Your brother stayed at home too?” Madeline asked.
“No.” Alexandra reached out to cup a dark red rosebud between her fingers and bent over it to smell its fragrance. “He went to school and to university for two years. He did not finish there. He would not go back after…Well, something happened to upset him and he did not go back. He has always been my closest friend.”
Madeline could think of nothing to say. It seemed unimaginable to her that anyone would be able to make a friend of the silent and morose Mr. Purnell. But if one had no choice and if one had never had a true friend, she supposed that it might be possible.
“You are a very good rider,” she said, changing the subject. “I thought for a minute this morning that you were going to catch up to Dominic. And he is the best rider in our family.”
“Riding has always been one of my main pleasures,” Alexandra said. “I enjoyed the gallop this morning, though I should not have done so. It was always strictly forbidden at home.”
“I could see that Dominic was enjoying your company,” Madeline said. “Perhaps I should not say this, but he was disappointed, you know, when you refused him in London, and even more disturbed when he heard that you had accepted Edmund. I think he is still not happy about your betrothal.”
“It has been altogether an embarrassing situation,” Alexandra said after some hesitation. “Both of your brothers were placed in a nasty predicament. I have done what seems best under the circumstances.”
“I believe Dominic has a tendre for you,” Madeline said. She flushed at her own lie. “It is strange, but we have never heard Edmund say that he planned to marry. I think he might have turned into one of those men who are devoted to their homes and duties and never take a wife.” She wished she had not started this particular speech. “Perhaps we should be thankful that he is to marry after all.”
Alexandra said nothing, but her pace had increased. She was walking in the direction of the house, no longer showing interest in the flowers around her. Madeline bit her lip and hurried to catch up. No one had ever said she was good at intrigue. She had meant to make subtle hints. Instead she had been quite bluntly insulting. She had almost told Alexandra that Edmund did not want her. And it was Edmund to whom she was engaged.
Damnation take her twin, Madeline thought in most unladylike language. In future let him do his own wooing and his own lying. It was quite nonsensical to think of him married to Alexandra anyway.
NOT AT QUITE SUCH AN ANGLE, NANNY.” Alexandra frowned as she felt the feather of her riding hat brush against her neck. “It is intended to be worn straight on the top of my head.”
“Not so, lovey,” Nanny Rey said, surveying her charge’s mirrored image over the top of her spectacles. “Hats are meant to be worn somewhere on the head, but no one ever said they were to be worn at the exact center. Ladies’ hats are meant to look fetching. This one looks fetching worn at an angle. A jaunty angle.”
Alexandra laughed despite herself. “But I do not wish to look fetching or jaunty,” she said. “I want to look correct, Nanny.”
“Correct!” Her nurse sniffed and moved the hat up an inch on Alexandra’s head. “With such a handsome lord as yours? And a kind man too, lovey. It is time you started to think about more than being correct.”
Lord Amberley had stopped Nanny the day before as she was about to disappear down the servants’ stairs. He had asked her if she found all to her comfort at Amberley Court and if there was anything he could do for her that might make her feel more at home. Nanny had answered in the affirmative to the first question and in the negative to the second, bobbed a curtsy, and made her escape. But she had been wholly enslaved by his blue eyes and his kindly smile.
Alexandra wandered to the window of her bedchamber after Nanny Rey had left. She buttoned her velvet riding jacket to the chin, glancing at the clear blue sky as she did so. She sighed. If only Nanny knew how much more she had thought about in the past two days than just doing what was correct!
She was to go riding northward through the valley with Lord Amberley. Just the two of them alone. She had been very reluctant to accept the invitation when she knew that James was going with Sir Cedric Harvey up onto the western hills to see the view from the top of the cliffs, that Lord Eden and Lady Madeline were going visiting, and that Lady Amberley and Mama were driving into the village of Abbotsford to call on the rector. She had not wanted to ride alone with his lordship, but James had not been his usual sympathetic self when she had appealed to him. He had told her that she must begin to accustom herself to the company of the man she had chosen to marry. And even Mama had considered it quite unexceptionable for her to ride alone with her betrothed on his own land.
So go she must. But she did not look forward to doing so. And there was the social gathering at the Courtneys’ to look forward to that evening. She would meet an unknown number of Lord Amberley’s neighbors and acquaintances. Her betrothal and coming marriage were becoming quite horrifyingly real to her. She felt as if a net were closing around her. She should not have come, she had thought more than once. Not to his home. Even her awareness of the foolishness of the thought did not amuse her. She had to come to his home sooner or later.
Of course, until she had arrived at Amberley, she had not known what Edmund’s home meant to him. Home to her had always meant a house where she lived in relative seclusion according to prescribed rules. It had been the anchor of her existence, the place where she knew she was being trained for the real life ahead of her—the life of the Duchess of Peterleigh.
Amberley was different. Very different. Even after more than a month spent in London, Alexandra had not realized just how very different her life had been from that of most other people around her. Now she was beginning to
realize it. Amberley was a place of happiness, a place where everyone seemed free to say and do whatever he or she wanted. It was a place of unashamed beauty. A place where love was important. And it was not the sort of love that she had been given. It was a warm and free love in which censure seemed to play very little part.
Amberley was a place of friendship, a place where one could be invited to dine with a mere tenant farmer and accept that invitation without any sense of either outrage or great condescension. It was a place where a child from the schoolroom could ride with his elders and talk freely with them. A place where children were free to play with those of lesser social status and where boys were free to mingle with girls. Where girls were sent to school so that they might befriend other girls, not withheld for fear that they might become contaminated by those of looser morals.
It was a place where people did things together for enjoyment, not in order to judge one another. She had been persuaded the evening before—by Sir Cedric—to go down to the music room to play the pianoforte. Not to give a recital to a silent and critical audience, but to accompany his singing.
“Will you oblige me by coming, Miss Purnell?” he had asked when everyone else was still drinking tea in the drawing room after dinner. “You play the pianoforte, I have been told, and I love to sing. Perhaps this will be my only chance to have you as an accompanist. In future, you may wish to make all sorts of excuses in order to avoid the pleasure.”
“How very unfair you are being to yourself, Cedric,” Lady Amberley had said with a laugh. “You know very well that I always come to listen to you from choice. He has a lovely baritone voice, Alexandra, as you will hear for yourself. I shall come along too. Would you care to join us, Lady Beckworth?”