by Sandra Heath
Opposite her, Max lounged with his usual grace. He seemed oddly withdrawn today, she thought, and there was obviously something on his mind. He spoke when spoken to, but made no attempt to keep any form of conversation flowing. She tried once or twice to break the lengthy silence but after a while gave up. They traveled the last few miles to Kimber Park in absolute silence.
At last they reached the lodge, and her heart tightened at the well-remembered sound of the wrought-iron gates swinging open. As the carriage turned onto the drive, she at last saw across the lake and the valley to the great white house on the knoll opposite. Something like a pain passed through her as she gazed at it. How she loved this place and how she missed it! Suddenly she wished that she had taken her mother’s attitude and refused to come, for seeing it again made her realize anew that no other house would ever take the place of this one, and no other house would ever be really home.
She gazed out at every well-loved feature: the trees, the sparkling waters of the lake, the little Mercury rotunda…. She stared at this last for a long time, remembering her dream, and she felt the hot color stealing inexorably across her cheeks. She couldn’t help glancing at Max, her eyes lingering for a moment on his firm lips. So real had that dream been that now, when she was actually by the lake and the rotunda with Max seated so very close, it was as if the dream had been no dream at all, but had really happened. She looked quickly away, fearing that if he had met her gaze in that moment, he would have been able to read her every thought.
The carriage came to a standstill before the great portico of the house, and Max alighted first, turning to extend his hand not to Charlotte, but to a rather astonished Muriel. For the first time that morning he smiled a little as he handed down the diminutive maid. “No doubt you have many friends here that you are longing to see, and I’m sure Miss Wyndham doesn’t require your services. Is that not so, Miss Wyndham?”
Charlotte was as astonished as the maid, for it was a very transparent move to see that there was little chance of a chaperone. When she didn’t immediately reply, his blue eyes swung quickly toward her. “Do you require her, Miss Wyndham?” he asked again.
There was something so compelling in his gaze that she could only shake her head. “No, of course not.”
He smiled a little, nodding at Muriel. “You may go, then. You’ll be sent for if you’re needed.”
“Yes, sir. Miss Wyndham.” Muriel bobbed a hasty curtsy and then hurried thankfully away in the direction of the stables, and thence to the rear of the house and the kitchens, where she knew most of the servants would be found.
Only then did Max extend his hand to Charlotte. “Propriety isn’t about to be mortally wounded, Miss Wyndham, you have my word on that.” There was a noticeable edge to his voice.
She was embarrassed, but managed to meet his gaze. “I didn’t for one moment imagine it would be, sir.”
“I’m relieved to hear it, for I’d hate to think a chaperone was deemed necessary because of my dastardly reputation.”
So he had been irritated. “No, sir, it was deemed necessary because of my reputation, dastardly or otherwise,” she explained quickly.
A slight smile reached his lips then. “You’ve a way of saying the unexpected, haven’t you? I could certainly never accuse you of being dull.”
She looked at him for a moment. “Unlike you so far today.”
“The unexpected yet again? I confess to being quite bewildered by the lightning darts of your personality.”
“Do you? Come now, sir, you aren’t in the least bewildered.” She didn’t quite know why she was saying all this; it was all just slipping from her lips as if she had no control over her tongue.
“You evidently have your forthright hat on today, Miss Wyndham.”
“I was merely remarking that during the journey your conversation was less than scintillating.”
“I rather thought that idle pleasantries irritated you considerably, Miss Wyndham.”
“That was quite uncalled for.”
He nodded then. “Yes, it was, and I apologize.”
“If you would prefer not to proceed with this visit, I shall quite understand.”
“It isn’t that at all, I promise you. I was indeed a little surly on the way here, and for that too I apologize. I’ll endeavor to improve from now on.”
“Sir, you really do not have try on my account.”
He smiled again. “I know, and you may take that as a compliment. Miss Wyndham, I know very well that you’ve been told all manner of things about me by my former sister-in-law, and I realize that you must be wondering how much of it is true. Whatever conclusion you’ve reached, today I wish to forget all that. Rumor names me a monster and a rake, and it blames you as a hot-tempered, uppity bookworm. Now, I’m sure that I can be agreeable enough; in fact, I flatter myself that I’ve been occasionally known as good company, and I’m equally sure that you have the same excellent qualities, so I suggest that we are at our angelic best today and make the occasion do our bidding—in the most proper and polite way, of course.”
She smiled too. “Are you suggesting a fresh start, Sir Maxim?”
“Something of the sort.”
“Perhaps that would be the most civilized approach.”
“Civilized? I don’t know about that; it’s certainly the best approach, in my opinion.” He offered her his arm then. “Shall we proceed?”
She slipped her hand over his sleeve and they went slowly up the almost majestic steps beneath the great columned portico toward the huge double doors, which opened as if by magic as they came near.
It was strange to enter the house again, for it was at once the same and yet very different. The echoing vestibule and the sweeping double staircase had not changed, but now there were elegant crimson upholstered sofas and chairs arranged along the cream-and-gold walls, instead of the green-and-white-striped furniture that had been there in her father’s time.
Throughout the house the story was the same, with strange furniture and paintings taking the place of all that she could still remember so clearly from the past. Some things were the same, however, like the immense sideboard in the breakfast room, the long mahogany table presiding over the dining room, and her father’s silver brocade four-poster bed in the principal apartment. There were other items Max had purchased at the auction, and the faces of the servants were as she remembered, and of course the rooms themselves had not yet been physically altered; it was very strange indeed to stroll through it all, as if she were observing it all from a great distance.
They had completed the circuit of the house and were descending the staircase to the hall when suddenly they heard a carriage arriving outside. Max halted, his face suddenly very still, as if he knew who it was. Charlotte looked inquiringly at him, but he merely remained where he was, gazing expectantly at the main doors.
Someone knocked, and after a moment one of Max’s footmen hurried to open it. Charlotte’s heart almost froze as she saw Judith standing there, looking as gloriously beautiful as ever in a daffodil-yellow silk gown, a gossamer light yellow-and-white shawl and a dainty, flower-adorned straw bonnet tied on with yellow ribbons.
The footman hesitated, looking uncertainly at his master, still absolutely motionless on the staircase.
The undercurrents that had so suddenly sprung into being were almost tangible, and Charlotte could only stand there, wondering with a dreadful sinking feeling what was about to happen.
Judith stepped into the vestibule, the fresh brilliance of her clothes making a startling splash of color as she stood on the gray-and-black-tiled floor, her green eyes shining as she looked up at the two on the staircase. “Well, well,” she murmured, “how very cozy. I do hope I’m not intruding.”
Again Charlotte looked at Max. His face was dark with anger now. “Madam,” he said coldly to Judith, “you were asked not to come here.”
“So I was. Put my presence down to base female curiosity; I simply had to know how you were proce
eding with the little Wyndham.”
Max stiffened noticeably, turning quickly to Charlotte. “Please wait in the walled garden. I will come presently.”
“But—”
“Don’t choose this of all moments to show your independent spirit, I beg of you. Please, just do as I ask.”
She stared at him for a moment and then gathered her skirts to hurry on down the staircase. As she crossed the vestibule and passed Judith, the other’s low voice halted her momentarily.
“Charlotte Wyndham, if you thought I was your enemy before, it is as nothing to the enemy I am now. Be on your guard, for I’ll claw you down, you have my word on it.”
Charlotte said nothing, hurrying on and out into the warm sunshine.
Her mind was racing as she reached the peace and solitude of the walled garden, a place well away from the confrontation that was evidently taking place between Max and his furious mistress. Was it over between them? Had the argument she’d seen take place at Vauxhall Gardens been evidence of a much more serious split than she had hitherto realized? She gazed around at the beautiful, sun-soaked gardens and at the house beyond. Oh, she hoped it was, for she still couldn’t endure the thought of Judith Taynton living here. Nor could she bear to think of Judith lying in Max’s arms, close and cherished, sleeping at his side throughout the night and waking to feel his lips upon hers in the morning…. Charlotte closed her eyes, turning sharply away from the house. Such thoughts were so very wrong.
The minutes passed, and still there was no sign of him. She walked slowly along the neat gravel paths between the sweet-smelling flower beds. The doves cooed softly in the dovecote, their wings white against the blue sky as now and then they rose in a cloud. The roses her mother and Richard had planted all those years before were at their best now, their colors almost vibrant against the warm stone walls. Sitting on a seat beneath a bower of purple-blue wisteria, she listened to the remembered sounds of the park she loved so much, and at first she didn’t hear the sound of Judith’s carriage leaving. It wasn’t until the coachman’s whip cracked to bring the team sharply up to speed that she was roused from her thoughts. Hurrying to the arched doorway in the wall, she looked across the open park to see the eye-catching yellow carriage driving at almost breakneck speed down toward the lake. As it reached the valley, the whip cracked again, urging the team to even greater effort, and it almost flew along the shore toward the rising ground beyond.
She heard Max approaching and turned quickly. His face was a little pale and she could see the lingering anger in his blue eyes.
He halted. “I trust I haven’t kept you waiting too long, Miss Wyndham.”
She was a little surprised at such a bland statement after the bitterness of the confrontation in the vestibule. “Too long? Why, no, sir.”
He glanced past her toward the distant lodge and main gates, where Judith’s carriage was just passing out of sight onto the main London highway. “Then let us continue,” he murmured. “I was about to suggest luncheon. I do hope you are in good appetite.”
She stared at him. Not a word about what had just happened?
He seemed not to notice her surprised reaction, “I thought that such a fine day called for enjoyment of the great outdoors, and I’ve taken the liberty of having a picnic sent out in readiness. My phaeton awaits.” He offered her his arm.
Hesitantly and still a little taken aback, she accepted. “Where are we going?” she inquired as they walked back toward the house, where she could see his high red phaeton waiting, a groom holding the bridle of the leader of the team of six grays.
“I thought the Mercury rotunda on the far side of the lake, if that’s agreeable to you.”
Her breath caught and her eyes flew toward the little white building.
Chapter Twelve
The speed with which he drove the highly sprung phaeton was even faster than that previously attained by his mistress’s carriage. On his little perch behind the seat, the little groom clung tightly to his place, holding his beaver hat on firmly. Charlotte’s lace veil streamed in the air behind her, and the hem of her gown, even though it was padded and stiffened, lifted now and then in the breeze caused by the vehicle’s pace. It was as if by driving so recklessly, Max was exorcising the dark mood that had been with him at the outset of the day and that had returned when he had come face to face with Judith. By the time they reached the rotunda, he seemed almost himself again, driving the team at a spanking but not foolhardy speed across the smooth open grass.
It was pleasantly cool in the shade of the little marble building, which seemed larger now than Charlotte remembered. Memories of the dream that had awakened her to the way she really felt about Max were very strong as the phaeton came to a standstill and she gazed up at the statue of the god Mercury on the top of the domed roof. There was a slight breeze now, she could hear it whispering through the trees and among the rotunda’s six Ionic columns. From here she could look across the bright water of the lake toward the house, and beyond that the Surrey hills stretching away into the beautiful green infinity of the hazy, indistinct horizon. It was a peaceful, idyllic place, but for her charged now with a secret atmosphere that made her shiver a little, even though she was far from cold.
The groom jumped lightly down from his position and hurried to steady the team, while Max fastened the reins and then alighted, coming around to her side and holding his hand up to assist her. Her fingers trembled imperceptibly as she stretched down to him, slipping from the high vehicle and down to the grass. She almost lost her balance, and he caught her quickly, his hands firm about her waist, their warmth quite plain through the soft material of her gown. She was so aware of his touch that she felt sure he must guess how she was feeling.
A rug and some cushions had been laid on the grass beside the rotunda, and he led her there now. As she made herself comfortable, the groom brought the hamper from the phaeton and then withdrew to a discreet distance. The food was delicious, but then, didn’t even the most ordinary fare always taste exceptional out of doors? And this was no ordinary fare: there was cold turkey and spiced ham, crisp salad and feather-light salmon mousse, tasty cheeses and fresh-baked bread. The butter had that subtle flavor she associated only with Kimber Park, and the various pickles were exactly as she always remembered them; one thing was clear: the kitchen staff had indeed continued as if nothing had changed.
The wine had been chilled with ice taken from the lake during the winter and stored in the icehouse deep in the woods, and as Max opened the bottle, he glanced, as if for the first time, at her new clothes. “So, Miss Charlotte Wyndham is restored to elegance. I confess I approve of the transformation.”
“Thank you.”
“And you are not only fashionably elegant once more, I understand you are on the point of reentering society.”
“We are fortunate that my uncle is in a position to provide for us.”
He smiled a little. “Will you be honoring society with your full presence? Or must we be grateful for the occasional glimpse at selected occasions?”
“Since I cannot be present at every single occasion, sir, I’m not quite sure how to answer that.”
“I think you know perfectly well what I mean. Does the advent of your uncle and his wealth mean that you will scuttle off to some new library and shun the Season as you have done hitherto?”
She thought for a moment. “My attitude has changed,” she admitted. “I know that before I was indeed always distancing myself from society, but this last year has made me see things differently. I’m truly looking forward to attending the opening of Waterloo Bridge, and I’m delighted to be going to the Parkstone summer ball.”
“I’m glad to hear it, for your previous attitude was a positive waste. You have a great deal to offer, Miss Wyndham, and your light should not be hidden under the proverbial bushel.”
“You have your complimentary hat on today, sir.”
“It must be the country air—and the excellent company.”
/> She studied him for moment. “You haven’t found me excellent company in the past, Sir Maxim.”
“Perhaps because you haven’t been excellent company in the past.”
“Ah, now that sounds a little more like the real Sir Maxim Talgarth,” she replied with heavy irony.
He smiled. “And that sounds like the real Miss Charlotte Wyndham.”
She smiled too. “Leopards and spots, sir.”
“No doubt.”
She looked across the lake at the house, deciding to change the subject. “What alterations do you intend to make? Nothing too drastic, I hope.”
“Hardly anything at all.”
She stared at him. “But, you said….”
“Perhaps I’ve changed my mind.”
“Oh.”
“Maybe the addition of a ballroom, but that’s probably all now.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“Seeing your delight in being here once more. If you find it so perfect—and quite obviously you do—then, who am I to find fault with it?” He gazed at the house. “I found it perfect in the past as well, that was why I was so anxious to possess it.”
She lowered her eyes quickly, reminded suddenly of what she had heard Sylvia tell Judith in Wyman’s library.
He was still looking at the house. “Do you think a ballroom would put the finishing touch?”
“I suppose so, if you intend holding balls.”
“That would be the general idea,” he replied, his shrewd blue eyes swinging toward her as he detected the subtle change. “Am I to take it that you think the addition of even a ballroom would amount to sacrilege?”
“No, of course not. I’m sure such a thing could only be an asset, especially when you have someone like Lady Judith to preside over things. She and I may loathe each other, but I have to acknowledge that she is a very accomplished hostess and will be ideal for….”
“For what, Miss Wyndham? It can hardly have escaped even your notice that things are not exactly sweet between Lady Judith and myself; indeed things are nonexistent. Whatever may have been the case in the past is not the case now, and the, er, liaison is at an end.”