by Sandra Heath
Hawkins announced Mr. McDonald and she looked up quickly. “Good afternoon, sir.”
He gave a graceful bow and she hid a smile. His elegance never ceased to surprise her. He would never look like an engineer; he was formed for the drawing room, not for ditches add drainage schemes. “Good afternoon, Lady Grenville. I am happy to tell you that I have completed my survey and so am able to tell you my findings.”
“Please sit down, sir.”
He obeyed. “First, I must tell you that in my opinion it will be reasonably easy to drain King’s Cliff Moor.”
“Easy?”
“Most of the medieval workings are still there, and those which aren’t can be made good speedily enough. None of it requires such major work that things will become complicated or difficult. It is merely hard work, if you follow me. The rhines do not at present carry away the excess water, but that is because they are choked and virtually useless. If they were dredged and maybe widened a little, then the water would begin to move again. I have studied the system’s outfall into the River Parrett and believe it is adequate still for the volume of water involved. With five hundred laborers, the work could be commenced and well on its way by this autumn. By this time next year it could be complete and King’s Cliff Moor well on the way to becoming fertile farming land, as Sir Nicholas wishes.”
“Five hundred men?” she gasped, taken aback.
He smiled. “The projects I have worked on with Sir John Rennie in the Fenlands have employed upward of a thousand men, Lady Grenville.” Something caught his eye outside and he looked out to see Augustine and her mother mounting their horses for a ride. “They will be sorry, I fear, for it will rain in a few minutes, and quite heavily too, if I’m not mistaken.”
I sincerely hope it pours down and leaves them like drowned rats, she thought. “You can read the weather, Mr. McDonald?”
“I have learned to take note of all the signs—being stranded out in the middle of a marsh when a downpour happens along is not exactly a pleasant experience, I assure you, and it has happened to me more than once.”
She smiled at him. “Thank you for coming here, Mr. McDonald, your helpfulness has been much appreciated. I realize that the cost of what you suggest will not be low, and for that reason I cannot give you any instructions to go ahead until after the forthcoming auction, of which you have no doubt heard.”
“I saw the notices in today’s newspapers.”
“As will the rest of the land.”
“It will come as a shock to many. The King’s Cliff hunt in particular is practically an institution.”
“Well, I trust that someone with a bulging purse wishes it to continue so somewhere else. Mr. McDonald, will you tell Sir Nicholas what you have told me?”
“I will indeed.” He stood. “Lady Grenville, I must decline to dine here tonight, for I am already overdue at my aunt’s house in Bath. She is a little crotchety at the best of times, and tardy nephews appear to bring out the very worst in her.”
She smiled. “I quite understand, sir. I have enjoyed your excellent company at dinner this past week.”
He inclined his head. “You are most gracious, my lady.”
She wondered how much he was aware of the situation in the house? Could he have missed the fact that Sir Nicholas Grenville and his wife hardly ever saw each other? Could he have missed the fact that Augustine Townsend appeared to be too often with the master of the house? No, thought Laura, he could hardly have missed any of it, but there was nothing in his manner to hint that he noticed anything. She held out her hand to him. “I trust, sir, that you will hear from us in the not-too-distant future.”
He kissed her hand. “And I hope, Lady Grenville, that the auction goes well and thus lifts the weight from Sir Nicholas’s shoulders.”
She sat down to work again when he had gone, and she had been writing for some time when she heard the first heavy drops against the window. A rumble of thunder spread across the skies and the rain began to fall more heavily with each passing second. She sat back, smiling. Let the heavens open, and let there be no shelter for Miss Augustine Townsend and her mother!
Chapter 29
Mr. McDonald was still engaged with Nicholas when the thunderstorm at last ended and the sun came out. The birds sang their hearts out in the park and the leaves dripped, their colors more vibrant and fresh now. Augustine and her mother had not returned, and Laura had inquired of Hawkins where they were, only to be told that their destination had been the Countess of Bawton’s house. Their purpose had been twofold, first to meet the Duke of Gloucester if possible, and second—and more important as far as Laura was concerned—to arrange the reception at King’s Cliff at which Laura was expected to receive the ladies of the neighborhood. Her heart had sunk on hearing this, for she had been praying that Augustine would let the matter drop, but obviously that was not to be. Augustine was hardly likely to let such an ideal opportunity of making her rival’s life more miserable slip away.
With the sun came Mr. Dodswell, intent upon seeing Nicholas, but when he was informed that the engineer was with the master, the agent found himself shown instead into Laura’s presence.
She smiled, putting down her quill. “Why, Mr. Dodswell, how good it is to see you. Please sit down.”
“I—er, came to see Sir Nicholas.”
“Mr. McDonald is with him. Can I help in any way?”
“I—no.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Is something wrong, Mr. Dodswell?”
“No, my lady.”
“Does it concern the estate?”
“Yes.”
“Then please be good enough to tell me.”
The agent cleared his throat uncomfortably, for the last thing he wanted to do was speak to Laura about this particular matter. But she waited, and he had no choice but to tell her. “It appears that a certain portion of Langford Woods, at present due to be auctioned, should in fact be offered to Dr. Tregarron first. I found a paper signed by Sir Jasper to this effect, as apparently the doctor had once expressed an interest in the land, which adjoins his own property.”
“And is the paper legally binding?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Then the land must of course be first offered to him.”
Mr. Dodswell knew his cheeks were flaming now. “I am anxious not to cross Sir Nicholas in any way, my lady.”
“Of course.” She thought for a moment. “I will see Dr. Tregarron, and thus you will be spared any involvement.”
“You?”
“Why not? I have no quarrel with the doctor, indeed quite the opposite, for in him I have found a good friend. I will go to see him this afternoon.”
The agent was inwardly aghast that his visit should have produced this result, but outwardly he showed nothing but a polite smile. “There is no need, Lady Grenville—”
“Nonsense, someone has to see him about the land and I am quite capable of performing the task.”
The agent stood, and she looked curiously at him again. He seemed very odd today. “Are you sure that there is nothing wrong, Mr. Dodswell?”
“Quite sure, my lady.”
“You are not unwell?”
“I am perfectly well.”
“I hope you are not working too hard, sir, for I realize that you have had a great deal to do of late.”
He smiled then. “I believe I work no harder than you, Lady Grenville.”
“I have nothing else of importance to do.” She lowered her eyes then.
“If anyone should be asked if he is feeling unwell at the moment, Lady Grenville, I believe that person to be the Earl of Longford.”
“Oh?”
Mr. McDonald smiled again. “He saw the notices in the newspapers this morning, and I believe Mount Vesuvius gives a poorer show of fireworks than our noble earl.”
“Good, I hope he bursts with rage.”
“From what I heard, my lady, that seems a distinct possibility.”
She walked to the m
ain doors with the agent, her shawl trailing a little on the top step as she watched him ride away. How very strange his mood had been today. Something was on his mind, that much was for sure, but what could it be? It seemed so very odd that his own close friendship with Daniel Tregarron could stand in danger simply because Nicholas and Daniel had parted so acrimoniously. As the agent rode out of sight someone else approached King’s Cliff. For the second time that morning her heart sank, for the carriage bowling swiftly along the drive now belonged to no other than James Grenville, Earl of Langford.
Swiftly she went back into the house, determined to face Nicholas’s cousin in a place of her choosing, not his. But she had hurried up the staircase and along the passage toward the library when not far from Nicholas’s room she encountered Mr. McDonald. Dismayed, she halted, but she smiled warmly enough at him.
“You are about to leave us, sir?”
“I am indeed, Lady Grenville. Sir Nicholas was good enough to tell me that if the auction proves successful, then he will send for me to commence the work on the marsh.”
“I’m so glad, Mr. McDonald.”
At that moment the earl’s angry voice echoed in the vestibule. “I demand to see her!” he shouted.
Mr. McDonald was shocked, and Laura turned slowly as she heard the earl hurrying up the main staircase. He saw her immediately, and with his face red and his short plump figure-bristling with rage, he stomped toward her, waving a newspaper furiously as he did so. “How dare you stoop to vulgarly advertising what may yet be my property at an auction!”
“Please, sir,” began Mr. McDonald, quite appalled at such conduct in front of a lady.
“You keep out of this!” snapped the earl. “This has nothing whatsoever to do with you!”
Laura’s glance was withering. “Nor, sir, has it anything to do with you! What takes place on this estate is none of your business!”
“On the contrary, madam, it is entirely my business when I am heir to it!”
“Please leave.”
“Not until you agree to withdraw these abominable advertisements and cancel the auction.”
“If you do not leave, sirrah, I will have you forcibly removed.”
His eyes narrowed unpleasantly. “How dare you presume to adopt that insolent tone with me, madam!”
Another voice broke into the argument then. “Do as my wife says, James.”
With a gasp, Laura whirled about to see Nicholas leaning weakly against the door of his room. His face was ashen with the effort of rising from his bed, and his breathing was heavy and uneven. She hurried to him, drawing his arm around her shoulder and slipping her other arm around his waist as she called to the startled Scot to assist her.
James Grenville could only stare at his cousin.
Nicholas leaned slightly against Laura, holding the earl’s gaze. “Leave this house, James. You have no right to be here and no right to address my wife in that disparaging manner. She is my wife, and if you insult her, then you insult me. Never speak to her like that again, or so help me you will regret it. You will never inherit this house. I would as soon will it to the Langford smithy, for he would no doubt make a better fist of it than you! Now get out, and be warned that you will never be allowed to set foot over my threshold again.”
The enmity flowed evenly between the two Grenville cousins, and this time James knew he had met his match. It was James who backed down from further confrontation at that moment, turning away to walk quickly back toward the staircase. They heard his heavy steps descending, the main doors were closed loudly, and then there was silence.
Laura and Mr. McDonald helped Nicholas back into his bed, and when he was made comfortable, she looked anxiously down at him. “You should not have done that, you are not strong enough yet—”
“What he said to you could not pass unchallenged, Laura, for you are my wife.” He smiled a little wryly. “For better, for worse.”
Until your choice us do part, Nicholas. Your choice….
* * *
She alighted from the landau outside Daniel’s house. For a moment she stood there, looking up at the elegant red-brick facade. The house had been built at the time of Queen Anne, and it was small by King’s Cliff standards, but nevertheless it was a spacious and pleasing building, its raised main doors approached by a double flight of stone steps set against the wall. The formal grounds had been laid out after the Dutch fashion, a long canal stretching away before the house with symmetrical beds of flowers and herbs. Behind the house spread the green expanse of Langford Woods—but for which she would have been able to see King’s Cliff, some one mile away as the crow flew.
She mounted the steps then and Mrs. Thompson, the housekeeper, opened the door. Her eyes widened when she saw the identity of the visitor, but she stood aside and politely asked Laura to enter.
Laura waited in the red-and-white tiled hall. A beautiful vase of dark red peonies stood on a highly polished table, and several paintings which she judged to be by the very talented Mr. Turner hung on the wall opposite. A tall grandfather clock stood in an alcove, its slow pendulum swinging. Its mechanism began to whir and the delicate, melodious chimes echoed out in the silence.
Mrs. Thompson returned to the hall. “If you will come this, way, my lady, Dr. Tregarron will receive you in the drawing room.” The housekeeper’s keys chinked together as she led Laura up the black marble staircase.
Daniel stood by the window, his tall, slender figure bright in the shaft of sunlight that streamed in. The room was one of easy elegance, its chairs and sofas upholstered with bright tapestries and its walls hung with more of the landscapes and seascapes he seemed to favor so much.
He turned as she was shown in and she saw that he was wearing the same dove-gray coat he had worn the first time she had seen him. His dark eyes went to the housekeeper, who remained by the door.
“That will be all, Mrs. Thompson.”
The housekeeper’s eyes were reproachful, but she left them then, although Daniel knew that she did so against her own better judgment. He smiled at Laura. “Good afternoon, Laura, I see that you are as beautiful as ever.”
“Good afternoon, Daniel.”
“Does Nicholas know you are here?”
“No.”
“Then you risk his wrath.”
“I come on King’s Cliff business, which cannot offend him.”
“You think not?”
“I have not quarreled with you, Daniel,” she reminded him.
“To be sure you have not.” He came toward her then, taking her hands and raising them to his lips.
Slowly she drew her hands away. “How are you, Daniel?”
“As you see, I am well. But you look tired, Laura.”
“That is not what you should tell a lady when she has spent hours at her toilet, sir.”
“It is the doctor in me which speaks now, not the gentleman—the gentleman sees only that you are quite the most lovely of creatures, Lady Grenville, not least because you are so original.”
“Original?”
He went to a table and picked up a newspaper. “I refer to the auction, so loudly proclaimed in today’s publications. I know of no other woman who would have embarked on even half the projects you have undertaken in your husband’s name. The odds are stacked against you, your position is hopeless, and yet you go determinedly ahead with all this. Yes, Laura, you are very original. And to me you are devastatingly attractive.”
She stared at him. “Daniel—”
“Don’t embarrass you? Very well, I will behave. You say that you are here on King’s Cliff’s behalf?” He spoke lightly, but he was very close now to confessing his love. Was now the time? Would there ever be a better opportunity than this?
His words had disturbed her, but she collected herself. “Yes, I understand that you have first refusal on the portion of Langford Woods adjoining this house.”
“That is so.”
“Why have you not said anything? The first I knew of it was when
Mr. Dodswell came to me today.”
“There seemed little point in saying anything when I shall shortly be selling this house.”
“You—you are going to America then?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I hope to be gone within a month.”
“So quickly?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
He watched her for a moment, and then came a little closer. “Am I to hope from your reaction that you will miss me?”
“You know that I will—I miss you now when you are but a mile away. You will be so much farther if you go to America.”
“There need not be any distance between us at all, Laura,” he said softly, taking her face in his hands.
“Don’t, please—”
“I love you,” he said quietly, “As I believe you know well enough.”
“No!”
“Why did you come here today? Charles Dodswell could have done it, but you came in person. Why?”
She could only stare at him.
His thumbs caressed her cheeks. “I offer you the love Nicholas, denies you, Laura, and you are not indifferent to me, are you?”
“Please,” she whispered, “please let me go.”
He held her still, bending his head to kiss her on the lips. He took his time, his lips moving softly but firmly over hers, and to her shame she found herself clinging to him, returning the kiss. The shame overwhelmed her then and she pushed him away. “No!” she cried. “No, it’s wrong!”
“Why? Why is it wrong? Laura, I love you and I know that your marriage is empty. I am a man, not a mouse, and I want you even if your fool of a husband doesn’t. Maybe you think yourself in love with him, bound to him by marriage vows, but a moment ago I felt a flaw in that love, I felt your lips meeting mine as sweetly as I could ever wish. Maybe you think it is sinful, for I break one commandment in coveting another man’s wife, and I would break another by committing adultery if I damned well could! Do these protestations shock you, Laura? Well, they should not, for my heart is exposed to you now; I confess a love which has burned in me from almost the first moment I met you. I love you but your husband doesn’t, I can give you the warmth you are made for, but he never will. He has made his rejection of you quite plain, and now I make my love for you equally as plain. Come with me, Laura, and I promise you enough love to wash away the hurt and pain he has caused you.”