“I would love it.” The girl’s face lit with joy. “We have not been happy here in ever so long.”
“Richard has promised to help with the guest list directly after lunch. May I count on you to help write the invitations?”
“Of course.”
The carriage arrived then with George and his friends. He had taken them to town immediately upon their arrival and now they tramped into the house together, filling the drawing room with introductions and laughter. Then Dinah remembered how much she liked these particular young men just because they took nothing seriously. They might drink too much on occasion and lead George into scrapes, but she could never accuse them of being grumpy.
Giles, with his black curly mop, was already making Ophelia giggle with some tale and Freddy was talking nonsense to Richard about his father’s sheep and making him smile. Freddy affected the same brown mop as George and she wondered who had copied whom.
After a lunch of potato and leek soup, quickly complemented by some hastily fried ham and poached eggs, George took the boys on a tour of the house, though he was ill equipped to do so. She anticipated they would end their journey in the newly stocked wine cellar.
Richard, Ophelia and Dinah put their heads together over a guest list that included all the neighbors, the clergy and several important families from the village. Ophelia wrote the notes of invitation at Dinah’s urging. She did not believe Mary Ann would do it and she did not want to usurp yet another duty.
Dinah had skirted two obstacles: gotten the good will of the daughter and increased the chances of the guests’ willingness to come. She pondered why Mary Ann would not want company. These were her neighbors, but she would be greeting them in changed circumstances, no longer the mistress of Hammersmith Hall but a pensioner. And that was something Dinah could not put right.
Ophelia left them to see the garden boy about carrying the notes around the neighborhood. Dinah relaxed and smiled at her co-conspirator. She knew it was not the thing to be left alone with a gentleman caller but surely his being a man so close to the family made sitting here with him unexceptional.
When she picked up the sketchbook where they had been writing the names, she dropped it and a line drawing of Richard slipped out. He bent to retrieve it before she could and they almost knocked heads. They both stood up awkwardly, her with the sketchbook, him with the picture.
Richard turned it slowly in his strong hands and got a strange expression on his face. “Truly, is that how you see me?”
“I am an amateur.” It was clear the drawing troubled him—possibly he found it too intimate. She had been struggling to constrain her admiration and liking for him in case it was not reciprocated and now she may have revealed it.
“You are very talented, lending nobility to a subject who has none.”
She took a step back and stared at him. “Do you think I care for a title?”
“That is not what I meant. I wish I were this man you drew so well.”
“You are; you simply don’t see yourself. Keep the drawing if you wish. It might amuse your mother. I have…others.” She whispered this last sentence and saw a realization pass over his face. He knew how she felt now. The rest was up to him.
He rolled the sheet carefully and kept it curled in his hand as though he were cradling an egg. “I see myself differently, at any rate. I should go.”
When she saw Richard out, she asked, “Can you invent a way to reconcile Mary Ann to the situation? Shall we trust Ophelia’s judgment that she will come ’round to the idea?”
“I’m not sure it’s the notion of the party that has her upset. Possibly she still fears your father will come.”
“I see. She hates him as much as her husband did. After all, he did jilt her.”
“I begin to wonder about that.” Richard rubbed one strong hand over his jaw which was now starting to show some dark stubble. “She is acting embarrassed, not angry.”
Dinah tilted her head to stare at him. “What other interpretation could be put on his leaving so abruptly? He only speaks of arguing with Rupert and being cast out by their mutual uncle, as though he’d had some expectations and they were dashed.”
“What if she rejected him?” Richard asked.
“I see, but that’s all in the past, and I would never ask her.”
“It would explain why my mother has not set foot in Hammersmith Hall in all these years. She liked your father.”
Dinah liked a puzzle and immediately began to think of all possible interpretations. “Could she have disliked Rupert enough to keep away?”
“Still? It’s Mary Ann she shuns, even at church. She almost said no when I asked if they could live with us.”
“Oh, she decided Mary Ann married the heir to get the estate.”
“Unlike you, many women have no choice in whom they marry and must take the best offer they can get.”
Dinah nodded. “Or she may have succumbed to parental pressure. I refuse to condemn her for being mercenary without the facts.”
Richard chuckled. “Do you always do that, make excuses for people?”
“I had rather think the best of them.”
“And do they often prove you wrong?”
Dinah heaved a thoughtful sigh. “I have been betrayed now and then by everyone I know but anger isn’t in my vocabulary. It’s such a destructive emotion. I just move on.”
“I wish I had met you sooner”
“But we have met now.”
His face took on a sadness that actually hurt her. What secret was he keeping that brought him so low? Did he have a fatal illness? But she could never ask. She did not know him well enough except to know she already cared for him.
“I must go and try to talk Mother into coming to your fete. Would you be willing to visit her tomorrow if I come get you? I understand you have a thousand things to do but you could convince her.”
“I would love to meet her.”
Dinah closed the door after him slowly, then scampered to the window to watch him mount his horse. After a time that seemed an eternity, he rode out of the stable yard like a hero in a novel. He did not take the mare and other hack with him so he must intend for her to use them during the holiday. Perhaps he would even take her riding again.
As soon as he was out of sight, she meant to retreat to her bedroom and paint Richard astride his horse.
* * * * *
Richard chastised himself the whole way home for not telling Dinah about the engagement. He kept vacillating between what he should do—tell her—and his inclination to put off such an unpleasant task as long as he could. This was not like him, either the vacillating or the procrastination. What was the point of having her good regard another day or two when eventually he would have to confess?
The factor that made him delay was the apparent blossoming of feelings between Ophelia and George. That’s what had prompted him to consider whether Mary Ann might have been the one to break her engagement years ago. That was what he hoped Ophelia would do now. But if the girl had been told about the past, she would be unlikely to make history repeat itself.
What amazed him was how he could have resented Ophelia for accepting his offer. She believed it had been made in good faith. He had no reason to assume she had trapped him into it. That was a fiction he had made up so that he did not look so stupid. He was where he was because of a generous impulse of his own. It was not the first time generosity had gotten him into trouble.
When he told his mother of the plan to bring Dinah to luncheon, she brightened at the chance to meet Henry’s daughter and started planning a menu. He hoped she did not read anything into the invitation but neighborliness.
Chapter Four
Saturday, 23 December, 1815
Dinah left the boys, as she regarded them, busy finding skates and bows and arrows for the competitions. They had found skittles and balls in the basement, so planned to set up a lawn-bowling court outdoors. No one would even notice her absence at lunch. Mary Ann had
resumed her place at the foot of the table but barely spoke. George, of course, had sat at the head of the table. Fortunately he did not notice Mary Ann’s resentment at this.
Richard came for her an hour before lunch and they enjoyed a short gallop before his house came into sight. It was smaller than Hammersmith Hall but in visibly better repair. The single-story wings embraced a gravel courtyard and the rest of the three-story stone structure seemed inviting and warm.
She left her hat and gloves with the butler, along with her coat, and tucked up the tail of her riding habit by its loop.
Mrs. Chandler was working on needlepoint when they went into the morning room but she cast it aside along with formal manners and hugged Dinah, saying how much she resembled her father. The woman was gray haired with a smiling, open face, one that could never lie. Dinah liked her at first sight and sighed with relief at her greeting.
“I hope I got his better features.”
“He was always cheerful and hearty, making everyone laugh.”
“That doesn’t sound like Father. I mean he makes me laugh but not on purpose.”
“I hope you see through him. He used to be a great jokesmith.”
“There may be more wit to him than I perceive. I can always tell what he wants, like sending me and George here instead of coming himself. He would rather face an Atlantic gale than anyone in this area.”
“Or one person in this area.” Mrs. Chandler put her thin fingers to her lips as though she had rather not said that.
“Yes, Mary Ann. George and I have said everything is to remain the same and at first Mary Ann seemed relieved. Now I’m not so sure she wants to be here.”
Richard’s mother took her arm to lead her to the breakfast parlor. “She’s not Lady Hammersmith anymore.”
“There is no Lady Hammersmith. My mother died when I was little.”
Richard pulled out chairs for his mother then Dinah. “Can you shed any light on why Henry would not want to come?” he asked. “He was a friend of ours though I was much younger, and I have missed him.”
“That was a bad business. Here is Fletcher to serve us luncheon. We’ll talk later.”
From that, Dinah took it that she did not want to gossip in front of the servants. That would be prudent but Dinah did want to understand why her father was so reluctant to come. Did the broken engagement with Mary Anne represent a failure so hurtful he could not face her? An even stranger thought was that he might still harbor some affection for Mary Ann. Was she his lost love? That made Dinah sad, for it would mean that his marriage to her mother was false.
When she could jerk her head away from such thoughts, Dinah realized the fare was much better than at the hall. Dinah was careful to remark on how perfectly the capons were done and how much she liked the soup, cheese and baked apples. During the meal they talked of everything except the situation at Hammersmith Hall.
In fact they had a wonderful meal and seemed to be in such accord Dinah could picture a close relationship with this lady if Richard were to take an interest in her. She wondered if she was showing too much interest in him, but why hide her feelings?
They made plans to go to the evening Christmas service the next day.
Richard’s mother did not bring up the topic of Mary Ann and her father again and Dinah decided not to press her. Mrs. Chandler was not a gossip and seemed to want to let the past rest.
When it was time to go home, Dinah went to get her hat and coat.
Richard looked longingly after her and was brought to attention by his mother’s hand clamping onto his arm in an almost painful grasp.
“Richard, does she know about your engagement to Ophelia?”
He heaved a sign. “Not yet.”
“You must tell her. It isn’t nice to give her false expectations.”
Richard passed in quick review all his conversations with Dinah and he did remember them all. “I have given her no expectations.”
“She’s falling in love with you. I can see it in the worshipful look in her eyes. A woman knows these things. And from the way you hang on her every word, I believe the sentiment is mutual.”
He swallowed hard and nodded. If his regard for Dinah was so obvious to his mother after two hours, what must it look like to the rest of the world? It was not the thing for him to be riding with her without a groom or for him to escort her even here without a maid. He had no excuse except that he wanted to spend every waking minute with her. If that was love then he was guilty of it. “You are correct as usual.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea.”
Dinah came back into the room. “All set and it should be warmer on the way home.”
“Tomorrow evening we will take the carriage,” Mrs. Chandler said. “I look forward to seeing you then.”
The whole way back to Hammersmith, Richard tried to come up with a way to introduce the topic of his engagement but everything he pieced together in his mind seemed abrupt and uncaring. He simply could not tell her, not on horseback anyway.
Sunday, 24 December
The next day he was determined to set the record straight. But first he had to speak to Ophelia. There was no longer any need for her to take refuge with him. He had observed even in his own bemused state that Ophelia was flattered by George, who seemed to be entranced by her. She might see reason or she might faint dead away.
When he got to Hammersmith, Dinah was involved in directing the servants, who were hauling in swags of greenery for the hall, which was to be the banquet room for the fete. He had never seen the large hall so cheery. In fact he had never seen it used before. The family usually lived in the smaller rooms. But a fire already blazed on the hearths at both ends of the long room.
The servants’ excitement showed they had already switched their devotion over to Dinah rather than the dour Mary Ann. But Dinah could afford to win their affection.
“Where is Ophelia?” he asked.
“What luck,” Dinah said. “She knows some musicians who might be able to play tomorrow evening. Won’t it be wonderful? George has gone with her to help engage them.”
“Alone?”
“No, Mary Ann has gone as well, possibly because she does not want to be involved here too much.”
“It will be a great success.”
“Will the neighbors like it?”
“They will be charmed, especially if you wine and dine them.”
“For the formal noon meal we shall have three removes, starting with poached salmon with watercress and baked ham and onion pie, followed by roast buttock of beef with mushrooms, pork baked with apples and sage, and biscuits and butter, of course. Then if George can find one, roasted pike wrapped in bacon, chickens with orange and tarragon and turnips and carrots. Then we’ll end with lemon syllabub and macaroons with almonds.”
“Sounds amazing.” He could not help smiling at her recitation. Her cheeks were pink with excitement and joy. He could not possibly squash this exuberance. But he had no choice.
“I can make a warm fruit soup with brandy. We’ll save that for the evening supper. Outside, we’ll have a bonfire so the archers can keep warm by it and two boys are pouring buckets of water on the depression in the lawn so we can skate.”
“Better than a pond. No one can fall through the ice.”
“After the dancing we’ll have a buffet supper with cold meats, a red currant fool and ginger biscuits and lemon curd. Did I mention the spiced pears?”
He shook his head. “No, you omitted them.”
“And a Christmas cake. I made it at home and have been plying it with brandy ever since.” She paused and glanced at his face. “I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
He smiled. “Not at all.”
She stared at him a moment. “Too much? You seem overwhelmed.”
“No, I am sure all will please everyone, but I must speak with you a moment. It cannot wait any longer.” He could see her joy subsiding like a tide going out.
“Wh
at is wrong? Is it your mother?” Dinah’s ready sympathy pierced his heart.
“Nothing that you have done.” He took her hand and led her into the estate office, possibly the only cold room on the floor this morning. When he saw her shivering, he stripped off his greatcoat and wrapped it around her shoulders, then set her on the small sofa in front of the dead fireplace.
“The day before you arrived, Ophelia summoned me. They had just gotten your letter but put the worst possible interpretation on it.” He sat on the edge of the desk, trying to find the rights words, but here were none for this.
“I should have made myself clearer but I did not want to appear interfering.” Dinah clenched her hands together. “And now Mary Ann is so disturbed by the fete she doesn’t even want to be here.”
“That’s beside the point, but it does prove that a house cannot be ruled by two women.”
“I have made a mull of things. Still, all may be well.”
“Unfortunately all cannot be well. That morning Ophelia was in such a state of agitation I feared for her sanity and renewed my offer of having them stay at Chandler House.”
“Did your mother agree?”
“Yes. She didn’t like the idea but she understood my intention.”
“But of course there is no need now.” Dinah smiled or tried to.
Richard took a breath. “Ophelia thought that would look too singular, so I…” He hesitated when he saw her turn pale.
“Don’t say it, not for a moment anyway.” She came to him and embraced him. “I want you to realize these past few days have renewed my joy.” She stepped back from him with tears in her eyes, leaving him feeling like an axman.
Richard wet his lips, which had gone numb. “I’m not sure how it happened.”
“You were compelled to offer for her,” Dinah whispered.
“Somewhat reluctantly. Later I suspected she manipulated me into it, but that does her an injustice. I did offer.” He saw tears sparkling on Dinah’s lashes and raised a finger to brush them away but she ducked her head.
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