by Kruger, Mary
“I don’t know, Mother.” Once he might have agreed with that idea. That, however, had been before his life had been turned topsy-turvy by a golden-haired woman who made him remember desires and dreams best forgotten. The thought of marrying someone just out of the schoolroom was unutterably depressing. Surely he wouldn’t need someone that young, just to have children. Someone older, more mature, a widow, perhaps... “As to that, Mother,” he drawled, “Anne has already proven herself to be a good breeder.”
Julia bent forward again, and then relaxed. “You think to hoax me. Very well, have your fun. But mark my words, boy. She’ll hurt you if you let her. And she’ll leave you again.”
Giles rose. “It will be time for luncheon soon, and there are matters I still need to see to. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Of course.” Julia nodded, and then leaned her head back against the chair, closing her eyes. She was so tired, and her joints ached so much. This dratted sea air. But, there, her children’s welfare was what mattered, and wasn’t it lucky for them she was here? Both might very well make disastrous alliances without her guiding hand, Beth with a younger son, and Giles. Now, there was the real danger. She didn’t trust the Warren girl at all. She was flighty, light-minded, and a hussy. Not at all a suitable match for the Duke of Tremont. She thought, though, feeling sleep overtake her, that she had discouraged that prospect. Yes. She had done her work well.
The day set for the excursion to Battle dawned clear and fine. It was a colorful party which set off on horseback along the white, dusty road leading east along the coast, the soldiers in their blue coats and red shakos, the women in fashionable riding habits. Anne’s was of soft peach broadcloth, with a matching hat set rakishly atop her head, and Beth looked well in a flattering habit of sky blue. She was, in fact, looking quite remarkably pretty lately. At breakfast this morning her eyes had been bright with anticipation, probably at seeing Lieutenant Bancroft today. Anne remembered well what it was like, that delicious mixture of nervousness and excitement at the thought of being with someone to whom you were attracted. Someone who made you feel more alive, and, at the same time, more feminine. She’d never feel that way again. Being with Giles brought only pain.
It had not been easy living in the same house with Giles this past week. Every time she saw him her heart speeded up, her breath caught, her blood began to thrum. Every time she saw him, she reminded herself that he was not for her, every time, until the conflict within her rivaled the battles that Jamie staged with his soldiers. She wanted him; she didn’t want him. She would stay with him; she refused to give up everything she had worked for, for a man who had once chosen someone else over her. For a man who had not, and did not, love her. He wasn’t for her. No man would ever be for her again. She’d decided that long ago. It was going to be a very long summer, until she could return to Jamaica.
“A fine morning, isn’t it?” Giles said beside her, and she looked up, startled. This was going to be difficult.
“Yes. Heavens, Giles, you’re actually smiling. Don’t tell me you’re enjoying yourself.”
Giles’s smile broadened. “Of course. Jamie seems to be, too.”
Anne followed his gaze. Jamie was riding his pony alongside Lieutenant Bancroft and was pelting him with questions. “Oh, dear, I hope he won’t be a nuisance. I’d like him to see Battle, because who knows when he’ll have the chance again, but I fear it will be too much for him.”
If Giles noticed the reminder that Anne would someday leave, he didn’t show it. “If he tires, I’ll take him up with me on the way back,” he said easily, making her look at him again. “You look very well, Anne.”
“Oh, la, yes, it was thoughtful of you, Giles, to find me a chestnut mare to complement my habit. I declare, I feel most fashionable.”
Giles grinned, the twinkle in his eyes telling Anne he knew exactly what she was doing. For some reason that sent a frisson of excitement through her. It seemed like an age since she had been young, since she had flirted with a handsome man, since she had simply had fun. The future was distant, and who knew what might happen? For now, she would enjoy the day.
The party rode on, chattering and laughing, eventually coming to the small town of Hastings. Once one of the Cinque ports, its harbor had long since silted up, turning it into a sleepy village. Here the party turned inland, passing the ruins of Hastings Castle and riding along the grassy South Downs, the line of low, rolling chalk hills that were so important a feature in the area’s landscape. Eventually, somewhat weary, they reached the picturesque village of Battle.
Everyone agreed that luncheon was the first priority, before setting out to see the Abbey. At the George Inn they engaged a private parlor. Anne, keeping a close watch on Jamie, was relieved to see him wolf down his food with nary a complaint. She was proud of her son. Young though he was, he was behaving like a perfect gentleman, bright and interested, but well-mannered. She let him skip ahead of her as, luncheon over, the party proceeded down the High Street toward the Abbey. The buildings were a pleasant mixture of styles, from the Old Pharmacy in its half-timbered house at least two hundred years old, to the church of St. Mary, dating from the 13th century. Ahead was the gateway to the Abbey, a beautiful old piece of masonry, built when the Abbey had been crenellated, or fortified. Jamie craned his head back, staring at it in awe. “Now this is something like!” he exclaimed, turning his bright shining gaze on Giles. “Are there knights here, Uncle Giles?”
“Not anymore, lad.” Giles laid his hand lightly on Jamie’s shoulder. “This is where William the Conqueror fought King Harold.”
“I know. 1066,” Jamie said, with such a smug, knowledgeable air that Anne and Giles exchanged amused looks.
“Precisely. William decreed that an abbey be built here to give thanks for his victory. We’ll just pay the gatekeeper and go in.”
Jamie scampered ahead, tugging on Anne’s hand. “It’s all ruins! Come on, Mommy, I want to see!”
“In a moment, Jamie.” Anne let him pull her through the gate. “Oh, look, Jamie.” Stonework, ancient and yet still precise, was everywhere. What looked like the ruins of a church were to her left, while ahead was a building that appeared to date from more recent times than William’s. Elizabethan, perhaps. “Look at that, over there.”
“The monks’ dormitory,” Giles said, joining them and looking at the one building which still stood, ruined but impressive, against the deep blue sky. “Not much left, is there?”
Jamie wriggled free of Anne’s grasp. “What happened to it, Uncle Giles?”
“A man named Sir Anthony Browne was given the Abbey when Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries, lad. He pulled down most of the buildings and built a home, that building ahead. He paid for it, though. Rather, his family did.”
“What happened?”
“Well, the legend is, when he was dining for the first time in the Great Hall, a ghostly monk appeared and told him his family would end in fire and water.”
“Like our ghost, Uncle Giles?”
“Not quite, Jamie,” Anne said, glaring at Giles. “You shouldn’t tell him such stories.”
Giles’s grin was unrepentant. “Boys like ghost stories. Sir Anthony was one of Queen Elizabeth’s guardians when she was young, and he began to build her a house, there.” He pointed. “Unfortunately, he died before it was finished.”
“By fire, Uncle Giles?”
“Do you see what you’ve started?” Anne said.
Giles ignored her. “No, that happened later. Actually, only a few years ago.” His face turned serious. “His family moved to Midhurst. Do you remember, Anne? Cowdray Park burned down, and then the heir was drowned a week later.”
“I remember it well. Jamie probably will, too,” she added in a lowered voice. “If he has nightmares tonight, I’ll let you cope with him.”
“He’ll be fine. You coddle him too much, Anne. Come.” He took Jamie’s hand. “Let’s do some exploring.”
Grass and flowers had long ago gro
wn up among the ruins, belying the fact that once a great battle had been fought here. Though others were there besides the party from Brighton, the place had a peaceful quality that pervaded Anne’s soul, making her relax. For a little while she would forget why she was in England, she thought, listening to Giles’s deep, patient voice as he answered yet another of Jamie’s questions. For just today she would pretend that they all belonged together, she and Jamie and Giles, folly though it was. Reality would return soon enough.
At length she and Giles rejoined the others, who had found a bench under a broad, shady oak. “‘Tis warm, is it not?” Felicity said, smiling sympathetically at Anne as she sat beside her.
“Oh, yes, but I’m glad we came. This was worth it.”
“And we’ve yet to see the high altar,” Giles said. “We don’t want to miss that.”
“Oh, dear.” Anne looked down at Jamie, whose head was in her lap. His eyelids drooped, and his thumb was tucked securely in his mouth. “I fear Jamie is tired.”
“Leave him with me,” Felicity suggested, bending to lift the boy onto her lap. He muttered a sleepy protest, and then snuggled his head against her shoulder. “The young people would like to walk some more, I think.”
Anne looked over at the others, the two soldiers, and the young girls. Beth was looking up at Lieutenant Bancroft in a starry-eyed way. “We are no longer young, Felicity.”
“Of course you are! But in any event, we cannot let the others roam about unchaperoned, can we?”
“I suppose we cannot.” Anne exchanged an amused glance with Giles, and then rose. “Very well. It seems we’re to be chaperones, Giles.”
“Oh? Very well. I suppose it is my responsibility,” he said, smiling in such a way that Anne felt her heart twist.
“Quite,” she managed to say weakly, hoping her feelings didn’t show. Why did she have to love him so?
Lieutenant Bancroft came up to them. “I was just telling Lady Elizabeth about the terrace, sir,” he said. “We plan to walk there to see where the battle was actually fought.”
“We were just discussing the same thing,” Felicity said, sending Anne so knowing a look that Anne was stunned. Did her feelings show so plainly? “Whitehead and I will stay here.”
“As you wish, ma’am. Lady Elizabeth?” Thomas Bancroft held out his arm to Beth. She looked a little startled, like a fawn about to take flight, but then, with accomplished grace, she laid her hand on his arm. Anne was so proud of her that she forgot her own role in this matchmaking, until Giles spoke to her.
“If we are to be duennas, Anne, we must go, too,” he said, a little twinkle in his eye. “And I would like to see the high altar.” Anne forced herself to return his smile and took his arm quite as smoothly as Beth had. There. This was just a simple walk in the Abbey grounds, no different from that taken by other couples. Well, perhaps a little different, since she wasn’t on the catch for this man. Nothing, though, was going to happen, and that was just as well, of course. Of course.
They set out together, the three couples, but eventually the differing intensities of conversation and the pace separated them, until Beth and Thomas, far ahead, reached the terrace overlooking the rest of the town. Here they stopped. “Here is where Harold arrayed his men,” Thomas said, waving his hand in a broad sweep that encompassed the entire terrace. “William’s men came up the hill. Harold nearly won the day, you know. Things would have been a lot different if he had.”
Beth, distracted for a moment from what Thomas was saying, glanced back, to see the others far behind. It was frightening; it was exciting. The lieutenant was like no man she’d ever met before, not gentle and philosophical like Reverend Goodfellow at home, or eager and callow like the few boys she had met at local assemblies. The lieutenant had been in the war already, in the disastrous retreat from Corunna. He may have purchased his commission, but he had since earned it. He was tall and walked with a confident stride that managed not to be a swagger, and the arm under her fingers was rock-hard. It was a bit of a relief that Giles was nearby. But not too close. She felt almost giddy with the freedom of it. “Yes.” Her voice was a little breathless. She didn’t particularly wish to discuss old battles, no matter how important. “I am glad Napoleon never succeeded in his invasion plans.”
“Yes, thank God for that.”
“What do you plan to do when the war is over?” she asked, surprising herself by her daring in changing the conversation. “If the war ever ends. It seems it’s been going on forever.”
“It has.” Thomas’s tone was grim, but he softened it at the anxious look on her face. “As long as anyone can remember, practically. But it will end, Lady Elizabeth. We’ll beat Boney. You may be assured of that.”
Strangely enough, she did feel reassured. “And then? Do you plan to stay in the army?”
“No. Won’t be much need for men like me, then. Actually, ma’am, what I want to do is rather dull,” he said, flashing even white teeth at her in a smile.
“Oh, do tell me.”
“If you insist. I have a small estate in Kent, a legacy from my grandmother. It’s a lovely little place, Lady Elizabeth.” He smiled at her again. “I think you’d like it.”
Beth made her answering smile noncommittal. “Do you plan to farm? My brother does.”
“Yes, and no. It’s wonderful land for growing things, but I was thinking of something different. The estate is in a valley. It’s sheltered and mild there, and it doesn’t seem to rain as much. What I’d like to do is grow grapes.”
“Grapes,” she said, blankly.
“A vineyard. I saw vineyards in Spain, Elizabeth. They’re fascinating. And there’s a need for it. Do you know, most of our wine and brandy has to be smuggled in? Think of being able to have good English wine, and at a reasonable price. Of course, the vines don’t yield for a few years, but I’d say it’s worth a go.”
“Grapes,” she repeated.
“Grapes.” He smiled down at her. “I understand what you’re thinking. Sometimes I think I must be mad. But, there it is. It’s got into my blood. I’ve read every book I can get my hands on and talked to every vineyard owner I could. I have to try it. Do you think, Elizabeth—”
“Lady Elizabeth.”
“—that your brother would approve of a vintner?”
“I think it is much too early to even think of such a thing, Lieutenant,” she said, with just the right amount of reproof. She was proud of herself. Even though her heart had leapt at the meaning behind his words, she had managed to sound as calm and composed as the most accomplished flirt. Really, where was this new Beth coming from?
“Of course it is. My pardon, Lady Beth.” He grinned at her, so that she didn’t have the heart to correct him again. Lady Beth. She liked the sound of that. “He seems rather a starched-up fellow.”
“He isn’t,” she protested. “Really, Lieutenant Bancroft. Do you always speak your mind so?”
“Always,” he said, solemnly. “I am my mother’s despair. I am told that when I was a child she took me to a relative’s funeral, and when the casket was carried in I said something rather embarrassing for all the church to hear.”
“Oh, dear. What did you say?”
“I believe it was, ‘Hey, Ma. What’s in the box?’”
Beth burst into startled laughter. “Oh, no! Oh, your poor mother. She must have died with embarrassment.”
“She did. Not for the last time. You know, I like the way you laugh.”
“You do?” Instantly, she grew serious. “My mother says it is much too loud and unladylike.”
“No. It’s real. If I hear one more artificial giggle I may commit mayhem. That’s why I like you. You’re real.”
“No, I’m not,” she surprised herself by saying. “I’m what my mother wants me to be.”
“And maybe your brother, too.”
“No. Oh, maybe a little. But then, I think Giles is different, too. I’ve often wondered, if he’d married Anne as he was supposed to—”
>
“Mrs. Templeton?” Thomas twisted to look back. Giles and Anne had fallen farther back. “Seems like a mismatch to me. What happened?”
“She married someone else. A cousin, that is why her name is the same as ours. Poor Giles.” She sighed. “I think he’s had it very hard.”
“Tell me about him.”
“Why?”
“They teach you in the army to learn about your opponent.”
“Giles isn’t your opponent.”
“He may be, someday.” The look he gave her was so meaningful that she looked away. “I’m interested in people, Beth.”
“Lady Beth.”
“Lady Beth,” he agreed. “Tell me about your brother. Tell me why he takes his responsibility so seriously. He does, doesn’t he?”
“Oh, yes. Duty is everything to him. I think it always has been. At least, as long as I’ve been aware. Of course, he knew early on he was going to be duke one day, and our father believed very strongly in tradition and duty. Our mother does, too. Do you know, I wonder if it was hard for him? I never thought about it before.”
“He handles it well. But then, being the oldest—”
“Oh, no, he wasn’t the oldest. We had a brother, Edward.”
“What happened to him?”
Beth was looking out to sea. “He died.” When there was no reaction, she turned to see him watching her sympathetically. “It was—it must have been horrible. We used to spend our summers in Cornwall, near where my grandmother had grown up. Edward loved to sail. He was ten years older than Giles. My poor mother, she’s lost so many children. In any event, Edward took Giles sailing one day, and a gale came up. Their boat capsized. Edward managed to get Giles up on the hull so he was safe, but he—he drowned.” She stopped for a moment, swallowing hard, though she had never known this brother. “He was only fifteen.”
“So the duke was only five.”
“Yes. He never talks about it, you know. None of us do. But since then, he won’t go near the water. I was surprised when he agreed to come to Brighton.”