"You can't leave. Jane, please stay." Anne hadn't realized that she was going to say the words until she said them. "I need a secretary, and you would be perfect for the position… So, don't stay for Eva's sake, stay for mine. You're more than capable of acting as my secretary. I need someone to deal with my estates and with the endless correspondence from Kingston's relations."
Jane looked at the stable floor. She'd tucked her arms around herself.
"You needn't decide now of course, I won't press you…" Anne said gently. "And if you decide that you'd rather not take a position with me, I understand perfectly. Be assure that I will write you the best of recommendations… I'm pleased with everything you've done."
"No — I accept the position my lady, of course I do — with pleasure, and relief. Young ladies do tend to wear on one…"
Anne chuckled. "But?" Anne was convinced that there was something that Jane wasn't telling her.
"I — it's just that…"
Anne frowned. Jane had colored up in the most amazing fashion. "Whatever's the matter, my dear?"
Jane put both hands to her face. "I don't want to see Major Baker-Cornhill again."
"Oh." Whatever Anne had been expecting Jane to say, it wasn't that.
Anne's eyes widened. Why hadn't she seen this? So Jane had developed a tendre for the major. "Jane, that's perfectly all right. You needn't see the major — we won't see much of him at all. We don't have any connection with Lord Delmere now — that's at an end. And I doubt that the major will haunt Almack's. He must be all of 40."
Anne knew that Jane was in her mid-thirties, so… Why not?
No, definitely not, she decided after thinking for a moment. She'd heard gossip about the gallant major. He was a rake of no mean ability. She shuddered. She could never countenance Jane's connection with anyone who resembled Major Grove. One male of that sort was enough in any family.
"I'm sorry, you must think me foolish beyond permission — at my age."
"You're not any age at all." Once again, Anne decided that she would do something for Jane. Every woman deserved the right to marry if she wished. Not Major Baker-Cornhill of course. He wasn't suitable. But there had to be someone. A vicar, with his own living. No, not a vicar…
Anne shook her head. "Come, it's cold. Let's go inside. We'll have some tea… I'm sure that Henry's convinced Molly to bake almond crescents — and Molly wants us to taste her Christmas cakes, before we pack the cakes into the tenants' Christmas boxes."
12
Catherine, Anne, and Henry were in the small drawing room at Gostwicke Hall, unpacking boxes of Christmas decorations, while Jane sorted sheet music with Eva at the pianoforte.
Tomorrow was Christmas Eve.
Anne reflected that they would have precious little time to themselves before Christmas Eve's midnight service. Snow had fallen earlier today. However, the night was cold and clear. Their older relations had retired to rest. The younger guests were amusing themselves in the public rooms, playing cards or charades.
Most of the servants had retired. Catherine had insisted that everyone look after themselves after dinner this evening. She’d sent the servants to their rest, because they'd get little sleep until after dinner on Christmas Day.
A bright fire crackled, and soon they would retire to their rooms to wrap their Christmas gifts. Anne smiled to herself. Tomorrow… another Christmas Eve. She missed her mother, Elaine, and Melly. She and Catherine had sent off several large parcels to Scotland.
"Delmere stays at The Oaks, so we needn't concern ourselves with him," Catherine murmured. She was still engaged with her lists of guests and their accommodations. A brace of Eardley cousins had declined with regret. One of their girls had just come engaged, so they were celebrating at home. "His horses will be here of course."
Anne had just handed Thomas a set of pretty glass angels for the mantel in the large salon. She'd been listening to Jane and Eva tinkling at the pianoforte. Eva had merely raised her eyebrows and shrugged when Anne had told her that Lady Jane was working as her secretary, and that she would employ a new chaperone for Eva when they returned to London.
Finally she realized what Catherine had said. "What — Delmere? Surely not?" she asked Catherine. "Didn't he cry off?"
"No, why would he?"
Anne glared at Catherine and raised her eyebrows.
"Delmere hasn't sent his regrets, and you could hardly expect me to write to him to put him off. That would be beyond anything."
"What? Of course Delmere will be here," Henry said. "I spoke to him at Sommerforth… he's sending his grooms with a couple of hunters that I especially want to ride — never say that you've quarreled with him, Anne!" She glowered at Anne.
Anne didn't know what to say. For some reason, she'd expected that Delmere wouldn't come. She didn't want him to, she told herself firmly. She almost believed it.
Christmas Eve arrived. Just one day remained until the Boxing Day Hunt.
"Don't fuss yourself, my lady." Bendish, Gostwicke Hall's steward, leaned on the desk in the estate office, and handed Anne a bill.
Anne, who was seated behind the desk, with her curls frizzed into a golden halo and ink on her hands and nose, had just complained to Bendish that they would never find stabling for all the guests' horses. "I can't imagine why a man would say he's bringing two horses, and then announce he's sending us five of the beasts," she complained.
She glanced at the bill, and shuddered. "And yet another bill from the corn chandler." She rubbed her forehead.
"Don't fuss," Bendish repeated.
He bent to move Three aside, so that he could place another couple of split logs into the small stove. "Move, you little fool," he said to the dog, "you'll roast yourself."
Anne smiled when Three shook herself, gave Bendish an annoyed glare, then jumped into her basket.
"You know that he'll wait for his money," Bendish went on, ignoring Three. "He knows that I'll pay in spring, when I sell those four yearlings that you and Miss Henry decided had to go."
Henry hated selling horses, so that had been a memorable battle.
"Lord Delmere arrived at The Oaks this morning," Bendish said casually.
Anne's pen jittered, blobbing ink onto the ledger.
"His head groom said he'd come today to see to his horses."
So Anne wasn't shocked when, not half an hour after Bendish left, Thomas knocked on the estate office door, and announced Lord Delmere.
Three leapt from her basket with a happy bark. Anne sighed, and stood. She'd hoped that he wouldn't arrive until she'd had a chance to wash the ink away, and dress more becomingly.
"My lord," she said, when he loomed in the doorway.
He entered the room and closed the door behind him.
Suddenly the room seemed very small. Anne nodded to him, and sat down again.
"My lady, you're looking very well."
Anne had to laugh at that. "Untidy hair, and ink stains. Thank you, my lord. You know that I look a complete mess, but I do thank you for the generous sentiment."
He picked up Three who attempted to lick his face, then dragged a chair from the side of the room and put it in front of the desk. He waited for Anne to sit, then seated himself. "Into your basket," he said to Three. He stared at Anne. "You didn't expect me to come."
"Well, so I didn't." Anne met his gaze. She forgotten how handsome he was. It amused her to think that when she had first seen him, she hadn't thought him handsome at all. She blushed, confused at her own thoughts.
Then she remembered the horse. "But — you're here. And so is Midnight. Why would you —"
"Because I bought him for you."
"And I said no. But…" Anne grinned, unable to help herself. "Since he's here, he's mine. I'm keeping him, and I thank you for him. He's a wonderful horse."
He smiled too, showing his relief. "As I said, I bought him for you…" He hesitated for a moment. "You know that I owe you an apology – heaven knows I apologized to Sommerforth se
veral times, but he wouldn't listen. I daresay I'll have to apologize many more times before he forgives me… If he forgives me. Not that I care about his opinion. I care about yours. I'm very sorry, my lady."
Anne bit her lip. "You don't need to apologize to me. I am not so nice in my attitudes."
"Lady Buttrose and I parted company months ago. I don't know why she took it into had her head to arrive at Sommerforth Abbey – no I'm lying, I do know why. She wanted to see you."
Anne opened her mouth to speak. Then she realized then that she didn't know what she wanted to say and closed her mouth again quickly. She shook her head. "To see me?" She asked, unable to keep the disbelief from her voice.
"Yes, of course. She's heard the talk."
Anne rubbed her forehead, then the back of her neck. "You're determined to discomfit me aren't you? I don't know what you mean."
"Do you not? Lady Kingston, if you don't wish me to court you, then you must tell me so that I don't mistake the situation."
"Of course I don't wish you to court me!"
He snorted at that. Three, who'd had jumped back onto his lap, put her forepaws onto his chest and licked his chin. He chuckled.
"It's impossible," Anne said. "I don't wish to marry again. Most assuredly not."
"As you wish, of course," Delmere eyed her, and shrugged. "You'll find me very amenable to whatever you'd like. We could become lovers, although I —"
"How dare you!" Anne's face flamed. She blinked at him. If she'd been closer, she would have slapped him. "That's an outrageous thing to say!"
For a long moment, she stared hard at him. His mouth was set, but his eyes were alight with something she couldn't understand.
Then she understood. He knew.
She swallowed hard, and her face flamed. How could he know?
He looked down at Three, waiting for her to collect herself.
Anne decided then and there that she would shoot Catherine.
Christmas Eve, Gostwicke Hall
Anne was waiting for Catherine in Catherine's rooms.
Earlier, Catherine had looked harassed when Anne insisted on speaking with her. The house was full of guests. Mrs. Jago was dealing with them admirably, but Mrs. Eardley's friends all wanted to talk to Catherine about her mother's return, and about Lord and Lady Linton, who would also return to London for the parliamentary session in the new year.
Of course, the Eardley aunts and cousins all felt that they had a right to Catherine and Anne's company too. Henry and Jane did their best to help.
But Catherine, with her network of ton contacts, and knowledge of all the latest gossip — and the latest males who'd be plump pigeons on the marriage mart — was the guests' primary target. She'd taken to using the servants' stairs.
"We can chat while I'm dressing," Catherine had said. Her eyebrows lifted, when she realized that Anne was upset.
It was several hours later, and Anne waited for Catherine. She had already changed for dinner. She'd chosen one of the new evening gowns that Madame Lola had made for her.
When she arrived in Catherine's rooms, Catherine wasn't there. Anne dismissed Catherine's maid, telling her that she would help Catherine to dress.
She'd just placed another couple of logs onto the fire when Catherine swept into her sitting room, and slammed the door behind her. "I've had more than enough of people for one day — I'll tell you that for nothing… two of Mother's sisters want to exchange rooms, and one of them told me that her doctor has insisted that she mustn't eat flesh. So I had to visit Molly to see about cooking for her… Cheese and eggs, although she's bound to get tired of omelettes and soufflés … Molly's ready to give up her position. I think I'll run away to London."
She hurried into her dressing room. "Well, come on, if you've sent Jones away."
"Stand still, so that I can undo your buttons…" Anne grabbed Catherine's arm, and turned her around. "Settle yourself, and forget the guests for a moment. I'm angry with you — I'd quite made up my mind to shoot you. No one would blame me."
"Shoot me? Now whatever have I done to send you into the boughs?"
"You told Lord Delmere. How could you?" Anne's fingers fumbled at the buttons. She felt close to tears, then angry with both Catherine and herself for her misery.
"Oh Anne… I'm so sorry. Whatever possessed the man to speak to you?"
"He didn't. It was the way he looked at me."
Catherine allowed her dress to drop to the carpet. She stepped out of it, and turned to Anne.
Anne refused to meet her sister's gaze. "Then you could be mistaken," Catherine said lightly.
"For goodness sake, you admitted that you told him, and now you're saying that I could be mistaken?" Anne's voice rose, and she bit her lip. She had to calm herself.
Catherine shrugged. "What of it? You should be pleased that he knows… at least now he can court you without you shying away from him. He knows, and you know that he knows. The man isn't a fool — I think that he's rather pleased."
"Pleased? At my humiliation? You — "
"What a lot of fuss about nothing. Do you imagine that you're the only woman who's had an impotent husband? You're foolish beyond permission, Anne. At least the man's free to court you now, if he wishes it… And if you wish it, of course."
Catherine slid her evening dress off its hanger and slid into it. "Buttons," she said.
Was Catherine right? Anne couldn't think. Delmere knew… She hated that he knew. She would never have told him. She hadn't told anyone. It had been her secret.
"Do up my buttons Anne, and stop thinking about Delmere. What's done is done. Hurry please, I need you to brush out my hair. Just a simple style. I think I'll wear mother's sapphires tonight. She said that we could wear whatever jewels of hers we wished while she was away."
Boxing Day brought the Boxing Day Hunt, as well as the Hunt Ball. The riders, horses, and hounds would gather at Gostwicke Hall that morning, and the hunt would begin at ten.
The Eardleys' neighbor, and Mrs. Eardley's close friend, Colonel Marsden, was Master of Foxhounds. As was proper, the Master and the hunt servants wore "pink" — that is, red jackets. Today, Catherine was acting as a whip, so she wore pink too.
"I want to be a whipper-in," Henry had demanded when she first learned of Catherine's elevation to hunt servant.
At that, Anne chuckled, and Catherine scowled. "Idiot child — tell her, Anne."
"My love," Anne attempted to comfort her younger sister, "dear Catherine manages our wonderful and charming guests — not the hounds. Catherine will help control the hounds with the other whippers-in, yes. But her main function will be to control our guests."
"Perfectly said. Henry, if you feel that you have the temperament to insult our darling relatives and close friends by informing them that they're arrant fools for crossing the hounds, please — do ride whip." She said to Anne, "I'll wager that a few of the cousins would whip her. They'll expect me to growl at them, but they won't take similar cavalier treatment from a slip of a schoolgirl."
At that Henry's eyes had widened. She looked dismayed. "I didn't think…" She lifted her hands. "Apologies, Catherine. You may ride whip, with my good will."
Anne smiled when she recalled the conversation. She and Catherine had planned everything for their guests' enjoyment. Many of the guests who weren't hunting — which included most of the women — would follow the hunt in carriages. Those whose age or inclinations made the cold weather and horses and hounds viewed in the far distance unappealing, would stay at the house.
Mrs. Eardley's sister, Mrs. Smythe-Hamill, who was known to everyone as "Bunny", had arrived from London on Christmas Day. She would remain at the Hall and undertook to entertain the ladies and those few gentlemen who were not hunting.
Henry was thrilled at Bunny's arrival. She'd stayed in York with Bunny while she went to school on Catherine's orders. Anne suspected that Bunny had allowed Henry very much her own way in York.
Bunny informed them all that she'd give
n up on going to Scotland. "Left it too late, my loves. Snow arrived in York by the middle of November, and stayed. You should have seen the drifts… Then I thought — shopping in Bond Street, why not? And I'd come to you for Christmas — so here I am. Were you surprised?"
"Very," Catherine said. She stared at her aunt. "I'm glad you're here, and I intend putting you to work. Can you manage our guests tomorrow? And help Mrs. Jago and Mr. Morley with the preparations for the Hunt Ball? That will give me the opportunity to join the hunt."
"Go, you go, my love — that's why I'm here, so that you can put me to work."
Anne had lain awake most of the night. Try as she might, she hadn't been able to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. She rose at five, with the servants. By a quarter to nine, she was certain that Bendish had the horses and grooms well in hand, so she went up to her rooms to dress.
Marie had laid out her new dark green riding habit on the bed.
Anne shook her head. "No, Marie. Save that for London… I'll get muddy and wet today, so I'll wear one of my older habits."
"But ma'am, Lord Delmere —"
"Put it away," Anne said sharply, stepping out of her morning dress.
It flustered her that the servants knew, that everyone knew that she'd formed a connection with Delmere.
She'd seen Pierce at the stables earlier, and he'd told her that she'd picked a right one in Lord Delmere. "He'll bleed as well as you'd like," he told Anne cheerfully. "More than enough blunt to suit anyone. Suits me, particularly. I tell you now, I've no doubt I'll break his shins. He'll be part of the family, won't he?"
"I should hope he wouldn't be so foolish as to lend you money," Anne said crisply, hoping against hope that she wouldn't blush.
"He will — of course he will. I say — did you know that the Wentworths are staying in the village? Saw Belinda myself. She'll be hunting — hunting Delmere that is — so be sure that you don't allow her to cut you out. I heard they've hired a horse for her, and a carriage for her mother and that lady that goes about with them. Want my advice? Send her away. Don't allow her to to hunt."
The Lady And The Man Of Fortune: A Wicked Secret: The Eardleys Of Gostwicke Hall, Book 3 Page 13