‘I – I do not wish to marry again, Sir Humphrey,’ Catarina managed. And especially not another elderly man, she added to herself. ‘I am flattered by your offer, but I must refuse. I esteem you, of course, and you have been a good friend to both me and Walter, but friendship is all I can accept from you.’
He did not appear at all put out.
‘I am too soon. It is just as I expected. I respect your honesty, your reverence for Walter’s memory, but he would not wish you to languish, a widow for the rest of your days. I will not speak of it again, just yet, but I know you will come to agree that becoming my wife will be the best for you. Now I must go, I have other calls to make.’
She avoided the kiss he attempted to drop on her forehead and moved quickly to ring the bell for Staines. As soon as Sir Humphrey was out of the room she collapsed into her chair and tried to stifle her giggles. She had been daydreaming about another proposal, one that would, she admitted, have been far more welcome. How could she avoid Sir Humphrey’s threat to repeat his? It was a threat, she acknowledged. She’d known him for so long and recognized he was a stubborn man, prepared to hammer away at whatever he desired until the sheer weight of his persistence wore down the opposition.
Needing to calm herself she went up to the bedroom which had been turned into a nursery for Maria. Playing with her little niece, watching the baby smile as she clutched at the coloured ribbons and balls hung above her crib, always delighted her. She thought sadly of what Joanna was missing, and wondered yet again at her sister’s unfeeling attitude towards her own daughter. Many women, she knew, sent their little ones to a wet nurse, often a villager near their country houses, and did not have them in their own homes for years. They might see them only occasionally until the children were a few years old. It was something she had never been able to understand. Watching Maria, and the almost daily changes in her, was a constant source of wonder.
How could she deter Sir Humphrey? He would come back, she knew. Marry someone else, said an insidious little inner voice. If Nicholas proposed, would she accept? Did she feel fondly enough towards him? Was it love she felt for him, or just a sort of satisfaction that an attractive, eligible man appeared to want her? Did she love him in the consuming way Joanna appeared to love her Eduardo? She had not decided by the time she went to bed, and told herself she was worrying about nothing, since Lord Brooke would, when he married, want a well-connected young girl as his bride.
Before Nicholas could go to the Dower House again he received a message from Brooke Court that Olivia had suffered a fall from her horse. It was not serious, Miss Shipton said, just some bruising, but the message sent both of her brothers hastening to her side.
Olivia was shaken, badly bruised, but no bones were broken and the doctor said she would soon recover.
‘It will not prevent our going to London, will it?’ she asked, anxious. Her debut had been delayed once because she had suffered from an attack of measles soon after Christmas. ‘The bruises don’t show, and I will not be so stiff in a few days. Have you found someone to chaperon me yet? I was hoping to be in London by the beginning of May when Princess Charlotte marries Prince Leopold. I think that’s so romantic, that she refused the man her father wanted and chose him.’
‘I’ve written to Lady Mortimer, Mama’s cousin. Do you remember her? I am expecting a reply any day now. But I will send the servants to open up the house so it will be ready for us whenever we wish to go.’
Olivia gave a sigh of relief. ‘I was so hoping it would not have to be Aunt Clara after all.’
Nicholas grinned. ‘Don’t worry, I will find someone even if Lady Mortimer cannot oblige.’
The next day he received that lady’s reply, which was favourable. She wrote she could start for London in a week’s time and go straight to Grosvenor Square. Olivia insisted she would be able to travel in a few days, so he left her in the care of Jeremy and Miss Shipton while he made a quick visit to London to ensure everything was in readiness, and to learn what was happening in Parliament. Seeing Catarina would have to be postponed for a while, but as soon as Olivia was installed in London he could return to see her.
He had been somewhat shocked by his instinctive reaction on meeting her and relief that she was well and safely back home. Despite his numerous liaisons, he had never before been in love, which was what he supposed his feelings for Catarina were. Those liaisons he had always treated lightly, diversions similar to a game of cards, or a day at the races. But he knew deep within himself that Catarina would be far more than that and the thought of possibly losing her, if she married someone else, was unbearable.
He had been made aware of Sir Humphrey’s proprietorial attitude towards her when they had both been at the Dower House. Whether it was fatherly or something warmer he had not been able to judge. But surely Catarina would never again marry an old man? She had, at sixteen, little choice, but she seemed to have been content with Walter and sorry when he died. If she had freedom to choose, would she not prefer a man nearer her own age?
She had not repulsed his kiss; perhaps she had been too startled. The rain had started so soon afterwards there had not been time for anything but running into the house. Then Sir Humphrey had appeared, and any chance he might have had of talking to her had vanished.
He fretted all the way to London, had to ask his Grosvenor Square housekeeper to repeat some of her questions, and paid little heed to the debates in the House. When Lady Mortimer arrived he was distracted; more than once she asked him if he had heard what she said.
‘You seem like a man in love,’ she commented, after dinner the first evening she was there. ‘Who’s the gal? Yet I gather you have been down in the country. Don’t tell me some country miss has achieved what none of the debutantes of the past dozen years has managed.’
‘Very well, then, Cousin, I won’t.’
She laughed. ‘I shall be watching you with more than normal interest. You will be coming back to Town soon, I hope.’
‘Once Olivia is settled with you, I must go home for a while. Jeremy may stay, but he is having difficulties at Marshington. The people do not want to accept the reforms he is proposing.’
‘Marshington? The Grange? Of course, you inherited the estate last year, did you not?’
‘And I have given it to Jeremy. Or I will do as soon as the formalities of breaking the entail are completed.’
‘I believe Sir Walter left a young and, if reports can be believed, beautiful widow,’ she said slowly, and suddenly laughed. ‘I shall look forward to meeting her. No doubt she will be coming to London now her year of mourning is over. I shall insist you present her to me.’
‘If she does come,’ he replied, trying to sound as though it mattered nothing to him one way or the other. ‘I believe her house in Mount Street is let. Now, have we settled all the details about Olivia? You will choose a day for her ball when you have had time to see what else has been planned by other debutantes’ mothers. Have her bills sent to me, but no doubt there will be occasional expenses, so if the amount I have given you is insufficient let me know. I have no idea how much a come out will cost, but I don’t want Olivia to economize.’
‘I shall have great pleasure in spending your money, Nicholas. You have far too much!’
The day after Sir Humphrey’s proposal, Sir Ivor Norton arrived at the Dower House. For once it was not raining and Catarina was in the garden, talking to her head gardener about the vegetables she wanted him to plant.
‘Though it’s been so wet the ground’s not fit,’ he said.
‘Well, do what you can, when you can, and if you really think it would help to extend the glasshouses along this wall, arrange to have it done. I confess I would miss my early peas and potatoes, and would be happy if you can make them grow under glass.’
‘The little ’un will be ready to enjoy some by then, well mashed up,’ he said. ‘My missus says it don’t do to keep them just on milk, like some do, and she’s reared six.’
‘
I’m sure she will enjoy them,’ Catarina began, when she was interrupted by a harsh voice haranguing someone.
She heard him before, with a sinking heart, she turned to face Sir Ivor who was striding down the path towards her, followed by Staines.
‘Catarina, I wish to speak to you. Tell this fool to stop bleating and go and order some refreshment. It’s a long drive from Bristol.’
‘Come into the house, Uncle. A nuncheon should be ready by now; no doubt you are hungry after your journey. Will ham and fruit be enough for you, or should I order some mutton chops to be cooked?’
‘How do you get fruit at this time of year? Spending your money forcing it, or buying it at outrageous prices from Bristol, no doubt.’
‘We still have apples – they store well – and yes, I do buy oranges. Papa’s partner brings some on the wine ships.’
He snorted. ‘I’ll have a couple of chops.’
‘See to it, please, Staines. This way, Uncle.’
He glared at the house.
‘Far too big for you now you’re widowed.’
‘Not yet ready to have guests as the bedrooms need decorating,’ Catarina said hurriedly. It would be disastrous if he expected to remain the night.
He waved aside her remarks.
‘Bad organization. But I have to be back in Bristol tonight, however late it is. That wasn’t what I came about. How dare you take your sister to Portugal without my leave? I’m her guardian and she’s under age. Now I have this impertinent letter from some knave of a foreigner saying he’s married her and wants her fortune. Well, he can whistle for it. She married without my consent, so not a penny will she have until she’s of age!’
Catarina reined in her temper. She led him into the drawing room where Staines was ready with the decanter of Madeira, and excused herself, saying she needed to wash her hands and tidy herself after being in the garden. Hastening up to the nursery she warned Clarice not to bring Maria downstairs until the visitor had gone.
‘But the weather is good, and fresh air good.’
‘I know, but I don’t want this particular gentleman to know about Maria, not yet.’
Clarice smiled and nodded. ‘He not like children?’
That was the easiest explanation, so Catarina nodded and, on her way back to the drawing room, slipped into the kitchen to warn Liza and Staines also not to mention the baby.
‘He … will not approve of my adopting her,’ she said, and surprised a sceptical look in Liza’s eyes. Did Liza not believe the story?
Dismissing the idea, she went back to Sir Ivor and managed to keep her temper during the meal. She explained to him that Eduardo was very rich, had large estates in Brazil, and a connection with the Portuguese Royal family, but none of it placated her uncle.
‘How long had she known the wretch?’ he demanded. ‘Was that why you stayed there for so long, when you told me you were going to visit your mother’s family? No such visit ought to last for months.’
‘We have many cousins there,’ Catarina explained. She did not need to tell him that they had in fact visited only her mother’s sister. Also she did not want to admit how short a time Joanna had known Eduardo, or that she had gone with him on the ship without telling Catarina. She would, she decided, let people believe Joanna had known him for a long time, or even that she had left Portugal much earlier. It would also be better if they thought she had gone before Maria was born.
To her relief, having vented his fury on her, eaten some very good mutton chops and drunk a considerable amount of wine, he soon afterwards took his leave, saying he must be back in Bristol before it was too late. Feeling weak, she waved him off and almost staggered back into the drawing room. When Staines appeared at her elbow with a glass of wine she laughed.
‘This is the good wine, my lady, not what I served at table.’
‘You had better have one yourself, Staines. I am so sorry he was so rude.’
‘I have had occasion to meet Sir Ivor before, my lady, so I knew what to expect.’
‘I’m ashamed to be related to him!’ she burst out.
‘Most of us have relations we might prefer not to know. Cook is preparing your favourite syllabub for dinner and I have fetched up another bottle of the best wine.’
How fortunate she was with her servants. They took good care of her, were enchanted with the baby, and clearly capable of keeping their mouths closed when necessary.
So far very few people knew of Maria’s existence. But she could not keep the baby hidden and had no desire to do so. The next time Mrs Eade called she must tell her the story she had told the servants, that Maria was a dead cousin’s child. Then the entire neighbourhood would know within days.
It was two weeks before Nicholas returned to Marshington Grange. Catarina saw a carriage sporting the earl’s crest sweep past the Dower House late one afternoon, but it did not stop. She knew it was Nicholas, and the following morning dressed in one of her best gowns and her most fetching cap, trimmed with more lace than the ones she normally wore about the house.
If he meant to make her an offer it would not do for her to be wearing mourning black, or even half mourning, so she pulled out a silk morning dress in deep cream which she had bought just before Walter’s death, and never had an opportunity to wear. The sleeves were close-fitting; they and the bodice were trimmed with coquelicot embroidery, and a coquelicot rouleau edged the skirt. It suited her colouring and, with a shawl of the same colour round her shoulders, a pearl necklace and pearl drops in her ears, she told herself she was looking her best.
It was the middle of the morning before Nicholas came. It was another fine day, after several when it had rained almost continuously. Clarice had taken Maria outside to sit on a bench under one of the apple trees, where the baby could watch the changing patterns of the branches against the sky.
Staines, beaming, showed Nicholas in.
‘His lordship, my lady,’ he said, and Catarina, nervous, thought his tone was almost paternal. Did her servants suspect the same as she did?
‘How are Jeremy and Olivia, my lord?’
‘They are both in Town. Olivia makes her come out this Season, under the auspices of a cousin of our mama. Jeremy is there too, and I believe has for the moment given up trying to convince the villagers of the advantages of his proposed changes.’
‘Olivia is looking forward to the Season?’
‘With some trepidation, but Lady Mortimer is the sort of woman who can give her confidence.’
‘Will you have some Madeira, my lord?’ Catarina asked, suddenly aware of the decanters she had asked Staines to bring in earlier, so that she would have something ready to offer Nicholas if he came.
‘No, thank you. Catarina. For once it’s a fine day; can we not walk in the garden for a short while? I did not have an opportunity to see it the last time I was here.’
Catarina led the way through the doors at the back of the drawing room which opened on to the terrace, and they trod down the steps at the end on to one of the gravelled paths. Nicholas took her arm and they made stilted conversation as they walked through the flower garden and into the small walled garden where the new glasshouses were being built.
‘You plan to grow more grapes?’ Nicholas asked.
‘Amongst other things. The weather has been so bad this year we are going to try some of the early vegetables under glass, but I’m not sure the new glass houses will be ready in time.’
They went on towards the small orchard at one side of the garden. As they reached the gate leading into it, Nicholas stopped, put his hand on it to stop her opening it, and turned towards Catarina.
‘My dear Catarina, I think you must know how I feel about you. I was so worried when you were away for so long, without anyone here having any news of you.’
He reached out towards her, but just at that moment Maria began to wail. Nicholas gave a start and turned round to see Clarice coming towards them, Maria cradled in her arms.
‘I take her in, she hu
ngry,’ Clarice said, and, as she walked towards the gate, Nicholas hurriedly stepped back. He watched, silent, as Clarice came through the gate and held Maria out for him to see. ‘See baby, pretty, no?’
‘Whose baby is that?’ Nicholas asked, his voice hoarse. ‘Is it yours?’
‘Yes. No. That is, yes, she is in a way. I have adopted her. She is a cousin’s baby, the cousin died,’ Catarina stammered.
He was looking at her so accusingly she was almost incapable of speaking. He watched Clarice go towards the house, then took a deep breath.
‘I will speak to you another time. Goodbye, my lady.’
Chapter Eight
CATARINA LOOKED DOWN at the letter in her hands. It was the round, unformed calligraphy of a schoolgirl, and Olivia had crossed the lines so much she had difficulty reading it. Besides, she was finding it hard to concentrate after Nicholas’s abrupt departure the previous day. He had suddenly become cold when he had seen the baby. Did the notion of her having adopted a child make him change his mind? She had been so certain he was about to make her an offer. Was the thought of having to accept a baby as well as herself such a frightening one he had decided he did not after all want her as his wife?
She forced herself to concentrate on the letter. Olivia sounded happy. The dreaded Lady Keith had gone to Paris, so she was making her come out under the auspices of a cousin of her mama’s. Already she had met a few other girls, and it wasn’t nearly so terrifying as she’d expected. Lady Mortimer, her cousin, would be arranging a ball for her soon, and she did so hope dear Catarina would come up to Town for it.
Catarina shook her head slightly. The town house was let and she would not stay in an hotel. She had no friends she could visit, and if Nicholas remained cold she had no desire to meet him again, as she would be bound to do at Olivia’s ball. Her thoughts swung back to the previous day and the unanswered question. Why had the sight of Maria changed him?
Scandal at the Dower House Page 10