Hareton Hall: Richard and Rose, Book 6

by Lynne Connolly

  Mr. and Mrs. Steven Drury have taken a house in the district, but they only arrived last week. I believe they deliberately kept their presence quiet because they knew you would be here. Barbara has just informed me she invited them to come tonight. She’d asked my mother if she could invite a friend, but had not told her who that friend was.

  I believe they mean to surprise and unnerve you, so I’m writing to tell you this. I hope you believe I had nothing to do with this.

  Yours etc,

  Tom Skerrit

  I folded the paper carefully and put it on the table. Richard spoke to my maid. “Nichols, if your mistress decides to go tonight, I want you in attendance and vigilant. Look about you, befriend their attendants if you can. I want to know why they’re here.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Nichols clasped the necklace around my neck, and I knew what we should do. “We have to go. They can’t drive us away.”

  “I agree,” Richard said. “But do you want to face it?”

  He touched my shoulder once more and I moved my head to touch it with my cheek, his warmth bringing me comfort, together with a tingling awareness that was never absent when he was close. “I must. We need only give them a polite but distant greeting. Society knows we are not on good terms, but I don’t want to make a spectacle for gossip.”

  I leaned back in the chair and held my hand to him. He took it. “They just want to create mischief for the sake of it.”

  Steven had wanted to marry me once, and done his best to kill us and disgrace us. He’d said since that hiring an assassin was a mistake, done on the spur of the moment, but I didn’t entirely believe him. His wife, Julia, was more venomous and more dangerous, desiring power rather than the immediate sensual gratification her husband preferred. We had every reason to suppose they were still conspiring against us.

  We told the others when we met them in the hall. Lizzie swiftly explained to her fiancé. “Steven Drury used to be the curate here, but he came into money when he married Julia Cartwright and he moved into society. He has offered several insults to my sister, and she has good reason to take him in extreme dislike.”

  “I won’t let them spoil this evening,” I assured them. “Or let me forget the happy reason for it.”

  Freddy made me laugh. “Give me the word, Lady Rose, and I’ll kill him for you.” Not that he didn’t mean it, but the twinkle in his eyes dared me to take him up on his offer.

  We went outside where the carriages waited.

  The journey to Peacocks didn’t take long. We arrived well within the hour.

  As Richard helped me down and Nichols adjusted my skirts, I looked up at the old building. Gervase alighted from the vehicle behind us and examined the façade with pleasure; Gervase took a great interest in the old and antique. I glanced at him and we exchanged smiles.

  He was dressed as finely as his twin brother, but in a different style. Where Richard was exquisite, Gervase was simply attired, the fabrics darker in colour and less elaborately decorated. He wore his own hair, not the wigs my husband along with most of fashionable society used, but its bright gold looked wonderful against the dark fabrics of his coats.

  The day was beginning to draw in, although this was late afternoon; hardly noticeable yet, but autumn was definitely on its way. I placed my hand on Richard’s outstretched arm, and we followed Martha and James through the open front door into the magnificent hall at Peacocks.

  Before I’d met Gervase, I’d hardly noticed the hall, I was so used to it. Tom Skerrit and I grew up almost like brother and sister. Many people had assumed we would make a match of it, but I’d never reason to suspect that Tom thought of me as anything other than a friend until after I’d met Richard. Tom deserved happiness.

  I was delighted to see him again. He did look well, dressed in the finery he’d bought in London last year. The conventional white wig covered his dark hair, and his height and breadth of shoulder set off his deep red coat admirably.

  Barbara stood by his side. She put her hand on his arm and disposed it to show off her diamond betrothal ring. Her looks had improved since I saw her at Eyton in the summer, though I couldn’t say precisely why. Perhaps her betrothal had given her confidence. She was in pink, which set off her pretty face and powdered hair very well, and wearing pearls I didn’t think I’d seen on her before.

  “Such a pretty necklace, Barbara,” I ventured.

  She cast a happy glance at Tom. “Yes, Tom gave them to me.” Her mother, who stood just behind her, smiled too.

  “Pearls were the first jewels Richard gave to me,” I commented, remembering.

  “You were in mourning,” Richard said. “It was the only appropriate gift at the time, except for your betrothal ring, and that took some time to find.”

  Mrs. Sturman glanced down at the great ruby, back where it belonged on my left hand, but said nothing. We could say no more as other guests were waiting, so we moved on, farther into the hall.

  “They’re by the fire,” Richard murmured to me.

  I knew better than to look, but Gervase shifted a little closer to me on my other side. “If it all gets too much, faint,” he advised me.

  I laughed. “I don’t care,” I assured them both. “But thank you.” I caught Freddy’s anxious glance at me and I sighed. “I’m not made of porcelain. I’ll manage.”

  “Still,” Richard said. “I will not allow him to insult you again.”

  He steered me to the other side of the room, where, with a sinking heart, I saw my old nemesis Eustacia Terry with her gaggle of female friends and several male admirers, but we passed them by. Eustacia, my persecutor when I was a girl here in Devonshire, had continued to torment me, or attempted to. Her fair good looks and vivacious character had drawn her a number of followers, but I was never among them.

  It was a large gathering of perhaps thirty people, but I knew almost everyone here. I smiled at one or two of them, exchanged polite greetings with others. Then I saw someone I didn’t know, and my curiosity was piqued. “Who’s that?”

  A young man was paying a great deal of attention to a little group of young women, including my sister Ruth and Tom’s sister Georgiana. He was causing a great deal of laughter. Richard followed my gaze to Eustacia, who watched the newcomer, speculation in her pale eyes.

  “That’s Sir John Kneller,” Martha said. “He’s been here for a month now. He comes from the north, and he’s taken Fourways.” The house James and Martha had hired for a brief period when Hareton was being rebuilt.

  “It’s a neat house near Penfold,” I told Richard. Fourways wasn’t the largest house in the district, especially now that Martha and James had extended Hareton Hall, but it was a comfortable residence, just right for a gentleman of means.

  A new addition to the stockpot of young eligible males in the district was bound to create a stir. “Married?” was my next, inevitable question.

  “No,” came the response.

  That would bring the local misses swarming around him.

  I heard the rustle of my skirts as I crossed the room and felt the simple pleasure of knowing I was well dressed. Richard had told me once that clothes lent confidence and he was right. I’d come to enjoy the feel of well-cut clothes made of fine material, although a couple of years ago I’d have laughed at the thought. Those were the days I dressed simply and disliked having to spend my pin money on a new gown.

  I put my chin up as I swept down on them. “Keeping him to yourself, Ruth?”

  The man had watched my approach with evident appreciation. I kept my eyes on him as Ruth introduced us.

  He bowed over my hand with a flourish, but I wasn’t flustered as once I might have been. I’d received flattery from some of the finest in the land recently, relieved to find they were only human after all.

  This man appeared younger than my husband, but it was difficult to guess at his exact age. He wore his own hair, very dark, almost black, and his eyes were grey and sparkling with amusement. He looked up at
me as he drew back, retaining my hand in his longer than strictly necessary. He would draw some female admiration with that trick. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he held himself well, his tawny coat cut to fit his frame. The lace at his wrists, I noted, was fine continental stuff, and I wondered if it was smuggled.

  “I have been looking forward to meeting you, my lady.”

  “Have I met you in London?” I said.

  “No, my lady, I lived in Whitby for most of my life.” He added, “It’s in Yorkshire.”

  I raised a brow. “Yes, I know. What brings you so far south? Devonshire is hardly the centre of the social scene.”

  He looked around the room. “You could be mistaken.”

  I smiled when I saw what he meant, the way some of society’s notables thronged the room. “They follow my husband. Lord Thwaite is one of his particular friends, and Mr. Kerre is here to see Lizzie married.”

  He inclined his head. “I have been honoured with an invitation. To answer your question, I inherited Fourways from my great-uncle. I came to see what kind of house it was before I sold it.” He glanced at Ruth, smiling. “I could be persuaded to change my mind.”

  Ruth smiled at him. If that was the way the wind blew, this young man might bear investigation. I’d talk to Carier if Richard didn’t get there first.

  His address was excellent. Now that I’d joined the ranks of the elite I’d been toad-eaten by the best, but I was glad to detect no trace of it in this man. “My brother has some property in Yorkshire,” I commented.

  “Hareton Abbey. Yes, I know, but that’s in the south, nearly in Derbyshire in fact. Whitby is much farther north, and I’m afraid I’m only on nodding terms with most of the society of the county. I’ve attended the Assembly Rooms in York, of course, but I never saw such a collection of beauties there as I find here.”

  I didn’t let myself be swayed by such blatant flattery. “So you plan to stay here?”

  “That would be difficult since most of my interests are so far north, but…” he cast a glance at Ruth, “…I shall do my best to make it possible. Fourways is a fine house, and I’m tempted to keep it. The practical thing would be to sell it and consolidate my holdings in Yorkshire, but I like it here.”

  I had to agree with him. Anyone who had a soft spot for my native county could depend on kindness from me. “I have moved farther afield, but something of me remains here. Perhaps we should buy Fourways from you.”

  “I’m not sure I want to sell it.” His smile was charming, without guile. I couldn’t help but smile back.

  We were interrupted when Lady Skerrit ushered us through to dinner.

  The dining room contained a huge table supposed to have been at Peacocks since its inception. Tonight it was decently covered with damask and well laid out for dinner. I enjoyed seeing the room again, where I’d spent many childhood hours playing with Tom.

  Dinner consisted of three courses with many dishes, but I wasn’t very hungry and I only ate a little. Richard knew what dishes I preferred and made sure they came my way, but I had more interest in watching the guests, especially Tom and Barbara. I still hadn’t decided whether I was jealous, but I had made my mind up to be honest with myself, even if the results showed me in a poor light. Facing one’s shortcomings gives one the hope of curing them, but I didn’t have to worry in this case. Seeing them together I decided I was not, and the discovery gave me much relief. Sometimes feelings aren’t apparent until they intrude.

  Tom attended to his betrothed meticulously, and she received his attentions with smiles that spoke volumes. Once, his hand touched hers in an accidental way, but she didn’t withdraw it, she let it lie quietly under his and they exchanged a smile.

  Satisfied that my friend had made the choice that was right for him, I turned my attention to the other guests. Talk grew both general and genial, tending towards the frivolous. Lizzie discussed the latest fashions with Eustacia and Ruth, and I sat close enough to add the occasional comment. It was still light, September had only just turned into October, and it was only late afternoon, but it had been a chilly day. The roaring fire in the large, old fireplace sent its warm, flickering light over the jewels of the guests, making the reflections dance over the shining silver cutlery and the cut glass.

  I leaned back and enjoyed the sight, thinking how such everyday things were so often taken for granted.

  “You look,” Richard commented, “like the cat that got the cream.”

  “Perhaps I have,” I answered.

  His slow smile reflected my contentment. “I always thought there was something catlike about you. We’ll have to see how well you lap later.”

  I almost choked on my forkful of fricassee and had to take a deep draught of wine. A footman immediately leant forward to refill it.

  “Will you go to London, now you have travelled so far afield, Sir John?” Ruth asked him.

  “I think I might,” he said, looking at her with warm regard. His message was unmistakable. If she was going, then so would he. I’d certainly have to watch him, and when I turned my head slightly, I saw Richard watching them too. Very little escaped his notice. I exchanged the briefest of glances with my husband.

  The footman returned my refilled glass, and I sipped while I listened. In some ways I felt as though I’d been away forever, and yet I also felt as if I’d just returned after leaving the room for ten minutes. In the back of the minds of many people here tonight, I was still Miss Rose Golightly, reliable dinner guest and local nonentity.

  The Drurys sat farther up the table, but within earshot. I didn’t feel at all guilty about eavesdropping, but their conversation was for the most part general until Lady Skerrit asked Julia how long they intended to stay.

  She turned her head, her pale blonde hair gleaming in the candlelight. “We have taken Hyvern House, which as you know was vacant. I love the place.”

  “We are thinking of buying it,” said Steven.

  I kept my face away from Richard’s. I had no need to look at him. I knew he’d be listening to the exchange as keenly as I.

  Lady Skerrit was the first to comment. “Surely Devonshire is too far away from London to be convenient?”

  “The roads are improving all the time,” Julia said. “I have taken a fancy to the house. Hyvern is the right size for us, and the location is beautiful, overlooking the sea on one side and the countryside on the other.”

  My heart froze, and I could imagine how Martha must feel. Martha and James had made their decision to move the main country residence of the Golightlys from Yorkshire to Devonshire, and to have this poisonous pair on their doorstep was a severe blow to them.

  “New neighbours!” exclaimed Mrs. Terry in evident delight. Her chins wobbled in enthusiasm. Since the death of her husband, she’d indulged a little more than previously in the pleasures of the table, and her ample form, thrust up in too-tight stays, was evidence of it. Considering what the Drurys had done to her daughter in London, how callously they had tried to use her, she must be a foolish woman indeed.

  Or maybe Eustacia hadn’t told her. She’d always had a soft spot for Steven when he lived here, despite his lack of fortune, so perhaps, along with her mother, she thought this new, richer Steven Drury would be an asset to the district. Idiot woman.

  I leaned back in my chair and saw Richard’s hand resting on the table beside me. He wore an emerald ring tonight, matching the colour of his coat, and it winked in the candlelight. I longed to touch his hand. I still found his touch a balm, but he wouldn’t like it, so I desisted. In any case, it would appear mawkish.

  “To lose two of our esteemed neighbours was a blow,” said Mrs. Terry. “But to receive two such acceptable replacements more than makes up for it.” That was a trifle insensitive, considering death had taken the previous residents away. “Will you be attending the Assembly Rooms, sir?”

  Sir John looked up from his contemplation of my younger sister. Ruth appeared pleased with his attentions and it gave her a soft, pretty ai
r. “Assembly Rooms?”

  She smiled. “The cream of Devonshire society will be there.”

  Sir John didn’t miss the sarcastic edge to her remark. I saw a quick smile, just as quickly suppressed. “Then I must certainly go.”

  “Should you like to go, Rose?” Richard asked me. I caught the amusement in his clear blue eyes.

  “I don’t know,” I confessed. “Perhaps, yes, if we have time.”

  “It would be the first time you went as Lady Strang.”

  “Would it amuse you?” I asked him.

  He paused while he reached for a dish for me and after I nodded, helped me to some of its contents. “I think so.”

  Lord Thwaite lifted his glass in a silent toast to me. “You could find mischief anywhere, Strang.”

  Richard laughed. “That, coming from you, Freddy, is the outside of enough.” I had to laugh too, for Freddy’s escapades were the talk of London.

  A spirit of mischief seized me. “All the young ladies at the Assembly Rooms will be respectable ones, you know, Freddy.”

  A quiet voice at my elbow murmured “Shame!” and I nearly lost my composure.

  “You might find a match,” I pointed out. “Doesn’t your father wish you to find a bride soon?”

  I watched with delight as Freddy tried to hide his horror. Freddy enjoyed flirting and his affairs too much to devote himself to one woman. Where Richard’s licentious behaviour had sprung from a desire to get his own back on the world, Freddy genuinely enjoyed it. Richard and Freddy were the example of the old adage opposites attract. Freddy had a basic, animal attraction which went well with his dark good looks, and served to attract women to him like iron filings to a magnet. Richard’s appeal was different, but just as potent. He’d charm, wit and poise, matched with a drawing power that went with the inner vitality he concealed in public.

  As the heir to a substantial estate, Freddy knew he would have to marry and produce heirs one day, but the longer he could put it off the better he liked it. Richard had been under the same pressure when I first met him, and had chosen Julia Cartwright, a woman he thought was cold, heartless and stupid, someone who wouldn’t interfere in the life he’d made for himself. He was only wrong in one instance. Julia was far from stupid.