For the first time, Barney looked a little shifty. ‘Not exactly. There is an old byre just up the path and I was intending to make a nest for them there and leave them overnight. I was just collecting bedding for them when you stumbled upon the sack! Then tomorrow, if I could, I hoped to persuade someone to give them a home…’
Lavender raised her eyebrows. ‘That does not sound a very good plan! They might stray away and they can scarce be expected to catch their own food, you know!’
‘I brought some scraps of food and some milk with me,’ Barney said, his voice completely expressionless.
Lavender found herself trying not to laugh. It seemed ridiculous that this man had been devoting himself so wholeheartedly to the welfare of such tiny kittens. Yet the little creatures evidently liked him, for they had subsided into blissful balls of fluff under the stroking of his hands. Lavender found her mind making a sudden and unexpected leap from the fate of the kittens to the caress of Barney’s fingers, and felt herself turn hot all over.
‘Do you have any butter with you?’ she asked, somewhat at random. ‘If you butter their paws they will be too busy washing them to think of straying.’
Barney looked crestfallen. ‘I did not think of that. Do you truly think they might lose themselves in the wood?’
‘Cats are homing creatures,’ Lavender explained, glad to be able to speak with authority, ‘and they might try to find their way back to you. But they are so far from Abbot Quincey they could never make the journey! Why, they might fall in the river, or become exhausted, or be eaten—’
‘Miss Brabant, pray do not distress yourself.’ Barney sounded amused and rueful at the same time. ‘I am sure they need suffer no such injury—’
‘Well, but you cannot know that!’ Lavender said indignantly. She took a deep breath. ‘I have just the idea—I will take them back to Hewly with me and they may have a home there.’ The suggestion seemed to come from nowhere, and startled her almost as much as it seemed to surprise Barney. He stared at her through the dark.
‘You will? But—’
‘We are forever having problems with mice at the Manor,’ Lavender said, improvising hastily in order not to appear too sentimental. ‘The kittens will be the very thing to deal with them.’
Barney looked at her. It hardly needed pointing out that the kittens were scarcely bigger than mice themselves.
‘They will grow,’ Lavender said defensively, as though he had spoken aloud. ‘With a little care—’
She put out a hand for the sack, but Barney picked it up and slipped the cats back inside.
‘It is very kind of you,’ he said slowly. ‘If you are certain—’
‘Of course! And then you may tell your sister that they have gone to a good home!’
Barney looked at her inscrutably. ‘And what will you tell your brother and sister-in-law?’
‘Why, that I found the kittens in a sack on the path, just as I did! It would not do to lie, and they know me well enough to know I would not just leave them there!’
Barney swung the sack up. ‘I will escort you back to the Manor then, Miss Brabant.’
‘There is no need! And if anyone should see you—’ Lavender broke off, aware that he might misinterpret her words. She did not wish him to think that she thought herself above his company.
Barney gave her a look, but he did not speak, merely standing back to allow her to precede him along the path. It seemed that her objections had been overruled. Lavender opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again.
They went a little way in silence, then Barney said suddenly, ‘So you truly thought me a poacher, Miss Brabant?’
Lavender found herself on the defensive. ‘Well, I was not to know! Why else would a man go creeping about the woods in the dark?’
‘There could be any number of reasons, I imagine,’ Barney said surprisingly. ‘I am disappointed that you hold so low an opinion of me, Miss Brabant! I hoped you might think better of me than that!’
The last thing Lavender had expected was to find herself apologising. ‘Well, I am truly sorry, but you must allow me some justification. Besides, you made matters considerably worse by manhandling me—’ She broke off again. Perhaps it was not wise to remind him of that either. There was a pause.
‘Yes, I beg your pardon.’ She thought she could detect amusement in his tone again. ‘I believe that was purely instinctive, but I apologise for upsetting you.’
Lavender had no intention of admitting that she had been disturbed rather than upset. His proximity and his touch had quite set her senses awry and she was still trembling slightly with the same strange awareness.
They had reached the gap in the wall where the path to Hewly gardens cut across the fields, and she turned to him.
‘It would be better if you did not come any further, Mr Hammond. If anyone sees you they will know there is more to my tale than meets the eye.’ She took the sack from him. ‘Please assure your sister that I will take care of her kittens. Now I’ll bid you goodnight.’
Barney stood back and gave her a half-bow, executed as neatly as any of the gentleman of society whom she had met. He then spoiled the effect by giving her a grin, his teeth flashing very white in the moonlight.
‘Goodnight, then, Miss Brabant. And thank you.’
He had already melted into the dark as Lavender turned away to hurry across the fields to home. She found herself wanting to turn and watch him go, which impulse both puzzled and annoyed her. Grasping the kittens to her, she let herself in at the garden gate and steadfastly refused to look back. There was no doubt that Barney Hammond had disturbed her. He had disturbed her very much indeed.
‘I cannot believe that you have managed to foist two repellent strays upon this household, Lavender,’ Lewis Brabant said testily, as he disentangled one of the kittens from his trouser leg at breakfast the following morning. The little creature, a bundle of ginger fluff, hung on tenaciously. Lewis put his newspaper down and picked it up with a gentleness that belied his words. The kitten started to purr immediately and Lewis pulled a face.
‘See how she likes you,’ Caroline offered with a smile. She was feeding the other kitten on her lap and it was eating ferociously. ‘Poor little scraps—I believe they are half starved!’
Lewis made a noise indicative of disgust. ‘Well, they had best start to earn their keep! The kitchen will be the best place for them, not the drawing-room!’
‘Yes, my dear,’ Caroline said soothingly. She gave him a winning smile. ‘They will surely be warm and well fed if we keep them indoors!’ Her smile broadened. ‘You cannot cozen me—I know you think them delightfu1.’
Lewis gave a non-committal grunt and got up from the breakfast table. He bent to kiss his wife. ‘I shall be in the estate room if you need me. If I find any mice, I shall know what to do!’
Caroline was still smiling as she watched him out of the room. She turned to her sister-in-law. ‘I do believe your new pets are a success, Lavender! Lewis is quite smitten!’
Lavender raised her eyebrows. She knew that her brother’s disapproval was partly feigned but she had been hard pressed to explain her rescue of the kittens in a convincing fashion. To go out for a walk and return with two new pets in a sack was somewhat singular, especially as she was claiming simply to have found them.
‘Is it not strange,’ Caroline was musing now, ‘that the kittens were wrapped in a sack from Hammond’s store? The sort of sacking used to bind up reels of material and the like? I wonder if they have lost them? Perhaps we should ask, for they may wish for them back—’
Lavender jumped, spilling some of her hot chocolate. She had not thought of that.
‘Was it one of Hammond’s sacks? I did not notice,’ she said, as casually as she was able.
‘Which reminds me,’ Caroline continued, ‘that you promised to go to Abbot Quincey for some purchases for me today. Some embroidery thread, and I find I need some ribbons as well. I have made a list. Is that still convenient, Lav
ender?’
Lavender sighed. It was unfortunate that Caroline should have a commission for her today of all days. She did not wish for a walk this morning and she certainly did not want to go into Abbot Quincey and into Hammonds drapers shop. Having paid the shop too many visits in the past month, she now felt a distinct inclination to stay away from Barnabas Hammond, a need to avoid all those puzzling and disturbing feelings that he had brought to the surface. She had tossed and turned for a good hour before she had fallen asleep the previous night, and most of her thoughts had centred on Barney Hammond.
She realised that Caroline was watching her with bright hazel eyes, and that she had not yet replied.
‘It is perfectly convenient, Caro,’ she said hastily. She pushed away her plate of ham and eggs. Suddenly she did not feel so hungry.
‘I must send a message to Lady Perceval as well,’ Caroline said. ‘Now, where did I leave the writing box? In the library? I have become so tiresomely forgetful of late…’
Lavender smiled. ‘Nanny Pryor says that that happens to ladies who are increasing!’
Caroline looked offended. ‘What arrant nonsense!’
‘Then why are you wearing your thimble for breakfast, Caro?’
Caroline looked down at her finger and tutted. ‘Gracious! I could have sworn that I left that in my sewing bag!’ She caught Lavender’s eye and smiled reluctantly. ‘Very well, you have proved your point! Now, what was it that I was looking for?’
‘The writing paper.’ Lavender got up hastily. ‘I will fetch it for you, Caro! I do not wish you to become lost on your way to the library!’
Chapter Two
The walk into Abbot Quincey was one that Lavender knew particularly well and normally she enjoyed it immensely. She loved the sound of the wind in the tall trees, the shadow patterns of the clouds as they raced across the fields and the sting of the fresh air in her face. Her walks always gave her ample time to think about her painting and her reading and any number of other delightful and intellectual pursuits that had always filled her time until now. But this morning—Lavender paused to tie the ribbons of her bonnet more firmly under her chin, for the wind was tugging the brim—she was aware of feeling decidedly out of sorts. In fact, she admitted to herself, it was worse than that. She felt blue-devilled.
Her mother, the Honourable Lavinia Brabant, had always maintained that a lady had no excuse for idleness or boredom. An informed and educated mind would always provide resources for solitude, and if that failed one should just remind oneself of the good fortune that had placed one in such an enviable position in life. Lavender felt very strongly that her mama had been quite right and would not approve of her daughter’s current indisposition.
Lavender sighed. She knew that some of her restlessness sprang from the thoughts she had been having the previous day about her place at Hewly and her future plans. She felt unsettled, unfulfilled. Something was missing…
She went first to the church and laid some fresh flowers from the Hewly gardens on the grave of her father, Admiral Brabant. The graveside, in a quiet corner of the churchyard under a spreading oak, was peaceful and somehow comforting. Lavender sat down on a wooden seat nearby and rested her chin on her hand. Perhaps her father could help her sort her thoughts into some kind of order. He had always been a stickler for method and regulation during his lifetime.
It occurred to her that he had left her a considerable sum of money, and that that would enable her to leave Hewly if she so desired and to set up in a respectable house elsewhere. She could engage a companion—certainly she could afford to engage several—and if she were to find someone as amenable as Caroline, she would count herself lucky. Perhaps Lady Perceval could help her, for that matron was so well connected and well informed that she would know of any suitable persons seeking employment. The idea held some appeal but it also held some drawbacks. Lavender acknowledged that she liked living at Hewly and she liked the Abbey villages, and indeed, no one was trying to drive her away. Lewis and Caroline would no doubt be mortified if they even suspected her thoughts. She sighed again. Her musings did not seem to be getting her very far.
Lavender looked at the neat mound of her father’s grave. She could imagine him addressing her, puffing out his chest in the imposing manner in which he used to lecture to his sailors: ‘Action, not inaction is the solution to any crisis. Cease this foolish wool-gathering, my girl, and get about your business!’
With a faint smile, Lavender got to her feet and picked up the basket.
She could always marry. The thought popped into her head as she was walking back around the church and heard the clock strike the hour. She had always been accustomed to thinking of herself as at her last prayers, but Caroline was nine and twenty, a good five years older than she. Perhaps there was a chance—although not much a chance of finding a husband as good as her brother.
Lavender considered the idea idly as she walked into the town. Her bridegroom would need to be an intelligent man who would appreciate a bluestocking wife and enjoy discussing weighty matters with her. He would encourage her sketching and her writing and would have plenty of interests of his own. He would not be at all the sort of man to want a pretty ninnyhammer, for she was well aware that her looks were no more than ordinary. He would need to be possessed of a reasonable competence, to live in the country and to shun the society pursuits that she had so detested when she had visited London. Lavender started to laugh at her own absurdity, but the thought persisted. As for age, well, she was prepared to accept an older man, for he was likely to have more sense, and as for looks…Here, with startling clarity, the face of Barnabas Hammond appeared before her eyes.
All Lavender’s recent good humour vanished. She shook her head a little sharply to dispel the image but it was too late. She felt cross-grained and irritable and for two pins she would tell Caroline to run her own errands in future. She walked up the main street of Abbot Quincey positively scowling, and arrived in front of the draper’s shop.
Hammonds General Store in Abbot Quincey was not as imposing as Arthur Hammond’s emporium in Northampton, but it served a small town very well. Now that the seasons were turning, Mr Hammond had draped winter fustian and twilled cashmere about the door, and huge bolts of the cloth were stacked on shelves inside. Arthur Hammond himself was behind the counter and was encouraging the doctor’s wife to feel the quality of the nankeen that he had spread out over the top. He was a big man, florid and full of bonhomie. As ever, he was smart in a tailed coat and old-fashioned knee breeches, with a waistcoat straining over his ample stomach. He always dressed like a gentleman.
‘All our materials are purchased in London, of course,’ Lavender heard him say, in the oily tone that she so detested, ‘and you will not find a better quality of cloth anywhere, ma’am…’
He broke off when he saw Lavender and hurried to greet her, which set her teeth on edge even more. She noticed that Barney came forward unobtrusively from the shadows to smooth over his father’s defection and flatter Mrs Pettifer into making the purchase. Lavender felt awkward. She had no wish for Hammond to snub the doctor’s wife just because she was from Hewly Manor and Hammond always curried favour with his noble clients. Besides, she was only buying ribbons and thread.
Lavender’s transaction was almost completed when Barney emerged from the stockroom carrying a trestle table obviously intended for the display of some new goods. He gave Lavender a slight nod as he passed, but did not even speak to her. She knew that he was working and did not have time for idle chatter, but nevertheless Lavender felt slightly crushed, and was annoyed with herself for feeling so. She put her purse away, thanked Mr Hammond for his help, and made for the door.
It opened before she got there, to admit two girls whom Lavender recognised as the daughters of a farmer over towards Abbot Giles. Both had dark curly hair, and open, laughing faces. They were giggling together as they came into the shop, and edged over to the table where Barney was now arranging winter bonnets on the hat
stands. Lavender paused to watch. Her first thought was how incongruous it was to see a man of Barney’s calibre working on ladies bonnets. Her second thought was how much she disliked the giggling, pouting girls, who were now looking flirtatiously at Barney from under their lashes and asking him questions that were punctuated frequently by coy laughter.
As she stood in the doorway, Arthur Hammond bustled up, clearly unamused by all the banter. He berated Barney for his lack of skill with the display, cowed the girls with one sharp glance, and set to rearranging the bonnets, flitting here and there like a preening bird. It seemed to Lavender that whilst the son and heir had no disposition towards drapery, the father was obviously in his element. She went out into the street, wondering for the first time whether Mr Hammond found it frustrating that his eldest son had not inherited his talent as a merchant. She knew that Hammond was immensely successful, for as well as the emporium in Northampton he had a string of other shops in the county, and it was clearly his life’s work. Barney, on the other hand, looked as though he would be much more at home in some other occupation.
She walked down the main street, past the bakery and the Angel inn. The sun was bright and Lavender had just decided to take her sketchbook out to do some drawing that afternoon, when there was a step behind her and a breathless voice called:
‘Miss Brabant!’
She turned to see Ellen Hammond panting up the road behind her, face flushed with exertion. Hammond’s daughter was about fifteen, and had inherited the dark looks that gave Barney his enigmatic air. Lavender thought that Ellen would probably be a beauty, but the girl showed no signs of being aware of it. She was smiling with unaffected pleasure.
‘Oh, Miss Brabant, please excuse me! Barney—my brother—told me that you had given the kittens a good home and I so wished to thank you!’
Lavender smiled at her. ‘I was happy to be of help, Miss Hammond! They are the most adorable creatures, are they not? You must come over to Hewly sometime and see how they progress!’
An Unlikely Suitor Page 2