The Hemingford Scandal

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The Hemingford Scandal Page 21

by Mary Nichols


  ‘I shall return home, go on helping Papa. I wonder if Mr Allworthy will withdraw his patronage now I have turned him down?’

  ‘Oh, Jane, Jane, what am I to do with you? Why do you always think of everyone else instead of listening to your own heart?’

  She did not answer. Did he know what was in her heart, did he know how much she loved him, that she would forever regret her part in his downfall and that, now he had pulled himself up again by his own efforts, she would never subject him to gossip and rejection again?

  ‘Well, I shall not let you go until you have danced with me and ridden out into the country on the back of a dear little mare I have picked out for you,’ he said. ‘Only then will I be convinced you are truly recovered.’

  ‘I shall like that.’

  ‘Next week,’ he said, as they mounted the steps to the front door, going carefully one step at a time. ‘It will give you time for your leg to become a little stronger.’

  The week passed much the same as those preceding it, except that there was a kind of restraint in their dealings with each other, a quietness. The laughing and teasing, though still evident, seemed a little forced. She found herself asking Anne to accompany them more often on their outings but on the day Harry had chosen to take her riding for the first time, Anne had arranged to visit a friend and so she and Harry went alone.

  It was strange to be in the saddle again. Harry lifted her up and carefully put her feet in the stirrups, handed her the reins and stood back to see how she felt. She felt wonderful. As long as she had enough strength in her thighs to guide the animal, her damaged leg, hidden beneath the wide skirt of her habit, seemed not to matter. She sat tall, eager to be on the move.

  ‘Good?’ he queried.

  ‘Amazing.’

  He turned and mounted himself and together they left the stable yard and walked the horses across the park. He watched her carefully. She had a great deal of courage and it was that courage which had pulled her through. Oh, how he ached to hold her in his arms, to make love to her, to marry her, but she had made it clear that she wanted no more than friendship. But could he endure that? When she needed him no longer, would it not be better to turn away, go somewhere where he would not have to see her day by day, tortured by her presence?

  Gaining confidence, she broke into a trot and then a canter. He measured his own mount’s stride to hers and stayed alongside. ‘Oh, this is freedom,’ she called to him. ‘I am not a cripple while I am on the back of a horse.’

  ‘You are not a cripple at all, Jane. Having a slightly one-sided gait is not being a cripple, or I would be one too. And I deny that most vigorously.’

  ‘Yes, but you are so strong, so in command. No one dare look down on you because you are disabled.’

  He cursed Allworthy for not hiding his feelings. ‘And you will be strong too. Very soon.’

  ‘Now,’ she said. ‘Now. I will prove my strength.’ And she dug her heels in and urged the mare into a gallop.

  He smiled and followed. She had always been at ease on a horse, ever since she had learned to ride with him and Anne as children. She had been the one ready to try anything, jumping a hedge or a wall, or even a brook. Thundering along the common, hair flying, scattering rabbits and birds as she went. ‘Take care!’ he called after her.

  ‘Come on, I’ll race you to that fallen elm,’ she shouted, pointing with her crop.

  He let her go a little ahead, preferring to stay just behind her, to make sure she came to no harm. His heart was in his mouth as she leaped a ditch, but she landed safely on the other side and a minute later pulled up at the tree and slid from the saddle. Only then did she remember her weakness as her leg buckled under her. He jumped down to steady her, but she laughed. ‘Forgot,’ she said. ‘Lost my balance for a moment.’

  He smiled. ‘It is good to forget.’

  They let the horses graze while they sat on the tree trunk. She was breathing heavily, but there was a glow about her as if she had suddenly come awake after a long sleep. Her eyes shone; her hat had come off and her heavy hair was all over the place. ‘Oh, Harry, that was good.’

  ‘Glad to be of service,’ he said laconically, then added, ‘If you were not in such a hurry to return home, you could ride here every day.’

  Mr Allworthy had said something very similar, when she visited Coprise. She startled herself remembering the name of the place. She remembered its neat perfection, the manicured park and the beautiful horses. She had accused him of bribing her to marry him. But Donald Allworthy and Harry Hemingford were not alike in any way.

  ‘How can you say I am in a hurry?’ she said. ‘I have been away from home three months now. Papa will have forgotten what I look like. And I can always hire a hack and ride in the park.’

  ‘It’s not the same, though, is it?’

  ‘Harry, you are very wicked to tempt me so. I must go home, you know that.’

  ‘You could marry me instead.’ He spoke quietly, throwing the suggestion into the air, waiting for her reaction.

  It was tempting, so very tempting, but he had spoken so casually, not as if he truly meant it, might even have mentioned it because he thought she was expecting it. But whether he meant it or not, she could not entertain the idea. Her refusal of Donald Allworthy would soon become common knowledge, if it hadn’t already done so, and everyone would blame her. It would be worse if it appeared she had turned him away in order to become a future countess. And worse even than that, Harry would be condemned as a man who enticed another’s intended bride away from him. She could not allow that to happen, even if it meant denying the love she felt for him.

  ‘Oh, you will have your little jest, Harry,’ she said, giving herself no more time to think. ‘But you would run like a hare if you thought I would take you seriously.’

  ‘Yes, a merry jest,’ he said, laughing to hide his hurt. After all, what had he to offer but a broken body, a tarnished reputation and empty pockets? ‘I am glad you know me so well or I would be halfway to Lincoln by now.’

  ‘I do not know about Lincoln, but I think we should go back or we will be late for dinner.’

  Dismissed, he stood up and held out his hand to help her to her feet. He did not speak again until they were both mounted and walking their horses slowly back to the stables. ‘You still have not danced,’ he said. ‘No.’

  ‘Then we shall have to remedy that before we leave.’

  ‘We leave?’ she queried.

  ‘Yes, naturally I shall escort you. And as the family travelling coach is still lying in fragments at the bottom of a Yorkshire ravine, we shall have to go by stage or the Mail.’

  ‘Was your grandfather very angry about the carriage?’

  ‘He was thankful none of us was killed. I have been entrusted with the task of ordering a new carriage from Robinson and Cook.’

  The holiday was at an end. Her broken body had mended, she had turned down two proposals of marriage and now she had to pick up the pieces of her life again, go back to being the dutiful daughter, back to her copying and housekeeping for her father. It would not be easy, but there was no help for it.

  They parted on the landing to go to their respective rooms to change for dinner. Nurse, hearing her come in, arrived to help her dress. The old lady was more used to looking after children than grown women, but she was a wise and gentle soul and this was what Jane needed. She did not want to be laced into a corset, nor sit for hours to have her hair put up in some fashionable style. She had neither the strength nor the inclination for it.

  Having helped her into a peach-coloured silk gown with a high waist and leg o’ mutton sleeves, which covered the fading scar on her arm, Nurse set about her hair, trying to untangle the knots. ‘Like curly wire, it is,’ she told her and then laughed. ‘Rusty wire at that.’

  ‘I know. I think I might have it cut short, like a man’s. The windswept style might suit me.’

  ‘Windswept!’ The old lady laughed. ‘You are halfway there already. Did your hors
e take you through a bush?’

  ‘No, but I lost my hat. Harry sent the stable boy back to look for it.’

  Nurse finished tying a ribbon in a large bow to one side and stood back to survey her handiwork. ‘That’s the best I can do.’

  Jane thanked her and made her way down to the drawing room, to find Anne and the Earl already there. She curtsied to the old man and sat down beside her friend. ‘I have been riding,’ she announced. ‘And it was wonderful.’

  ‘Good for you,’ Anne said.

  ‘I think it means my recovery is complete. I am so grateful to you, to Harry and to his lordship, for everything you have done for me…’

  ‘My goodness,’ Anne said with a light laugh. ‘What has brought this on?’

  ‘It is time I went home.’

  ‘Oh. You have not quarrelled with Harry, have you?’

  ‘No, of course not. He has been my saviour, but I must stand on my own feet now. Papa needs me…’

  ‘And we do not, I suppose.’ Anne’s voice was sharp.

  ‘Need me?’ Jane laughed. ‘I have been a millstone round your neck, an invalid stopping you from doing what you want to do, someone who has to be carried and coddled.’

  ‘Jane, that is not true…’

  ‘Leave her be, Sis.’ Harry had entered the room unobserved. He moved over to bow to the ladies. He was in a black evening suit, with a pale blue waistcoat and a white muslin cravat. ‘Jane has said she wants to go home, so I will take her home. There is no more to be said.’

  Anne subsided into silence, though Jane knew she would return to the subject when they were alone and she must be firm. It would be so easy to give in, to say she would marry Harry, to allow herself to be persuaded, but she had done with being biddable, of subjugating herself to the will of others. From now on her decisions must be her own and Anne must be made to see that.

  The butler came to announce dinner was served and they moved into the dining room, the Earl leading the way with Anne, and Harry and Jane bringing up the rear. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered to him. ‘I do not think I could survive a quizzing tonight.’

  ‘Then no one shall quiz you.’

  The food was good and plentiful, but in spite of the exercise of riding, Jane had no appetite. She was still with Harry in the woods, feeling his warm dry hand holding hers, listening to him suggesting they should marry. It had not been a proper proposal, couched as a formal question, any more than it had been when they had become engaged before. Perhaps that was why she had been so quick to reject it, to suggest he had been joking, although did it matter how it was delivered if that was what they both wanted? But even if he had been serious, she could not have agreed, knowing he would be hurt by it.

  ‘You are quiet, Jane,’ Anne commented.

  ‘A little tired,’ she said. ‘I have had more exercise today than I have had for a long time.’

  Harry chuckled. ‘She even managed to gallop.’

  ‘Was that wise?’ Anne asked.

  ‘My infirmity disappears when I am on horseback.’ She paused. ‘You should have come with us.’ If Anne had been there, Harry would not have spoken as he had and she would have been saved a painful conversation. ‘I mean to ride again tomorrow, why don’t you come too?’

  ‘Oh, you are not dashing off to the Smoke first thing, then?’

  Jane ignored the slight acerbity. ‘Not unless you wish to be rid of me.’

  ‘Oh, Jane, you know nothing would please me more than you should stay here forever.’

  ‘And you know that is not possible,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Anne!’ Harry admonished. ‘I am taking Jane back to her father on Friday, that’s three days from now. You may come or not, as you wish.’

  ‘Of course I am coming.’

  ‘But, Anne,’ Jane protested, ‘it’s late in the year. The place will be dead.’

  ‘I have things to do. And you must be chaperoned.’ She looked from one to the other in puzzlement when they burst out laughing. ‘London is not like Lincolnshire,’ she added lamely. ‘Arriving back in the capital unchaperoned would cause the tongues to wag.’

  ‘So, I am to lose all three of you at once, am I?’ the Earl said. ‘And when shall you be back? Will it be before I stick my spoon to the wall, or only for the funeral?’

  ‘Grandfather,’ Anne cried, ‘please do not speak of such a thing. You are not dying and it is unfair of you to pretend that you are. I shall be back.’

  ‘And Harry?’

  Harry, who thought he was only there on sufferance, did not know what to say. ‘If you want me to, then naturally I shall return.’

  The old man shrugged. ‘Do as you please. I expect it is too much to expect you to give up this mad idea of going into manufacturing? You would do better to find yourself a wife and settle down.’

  ‘I am doing my best, sir,’ he said and then winked at Jane. She blushed scarlet and looked down at the portion of raised mutton pie on her plate. ‘The trouble is, she will not have me.’

  The old man chuckled. ‘Try harder.’

  He knew exactly what had been going on, Jane was sure, and he delighted in goading his grandson, but that did not mean he did not love him. She was sure he did, but he was used to having his own way and he could not bear to be crossed. And Harry did not like to be beaten either. They were as stubborn as each other. She wondered how she would feel if Harry did find himself a wife. Horribly, horribly jealous, she was sure.

  Anne brought up the subject when the meal ended and they left the men to their brandy and went into the withdrawing room for tea. ‘Harry asked you to marry him, didn’t he?’

  She managed a smile. ‘It was not so much a question as a statement of what I could do if I chose.’

  ‘Same thing. And you turned him down. Why?’

  ‘Oh, for many reasons. It would not do. We had our chance two years ago and we both ruined it. I admit it was as much my fault as his, but we cannot turn the clock back. And I have just given Mr Allworthy his congé and no doubt the tongues are already wagging over it. I must go on quietly if I am to live that down and not embarrass Papa and Aunt Lane.’

  ‘I cannot believe Harry accepted that.’

  ‘He did. He is no more anxious to rake up old wounds than I am. He is set upon developing his gun, and it will not help if there is a cloud hanging over him, though I am sorry his lordship cannot find it in him to be more encouraging.’

  ‘He is stubborn,’ Anne said, confirming Jane’s own opinion. ‘He laid down the conditions for Harry’s return to grace some time ago and he is finding it difficult to change them. He thinks it will make him look weak.’

  ‘What conditions?’

  ‘He says he will reinstate Harry’s full allowance, and even add to it, if he marries and settles down to running the estate like a proper aristocrat. I thought you knew that.’

  ‘Oh, was that why Harry asked me to marry him?’

  ‘No, it was not!’ Anne snapped. ‘He loves you and you know it.’

  ‘Do I? I don’t think I can be sure of anything any more. His love may be as ephemeral as Mr Allworthy’s. I am sure he was relieved when I sent him away.’

  ‘Who? Mr Allworthy or Harry?’

  ‘I meant Mr Allworthy, but the same may be true of Harry. He may have mentioned marriage just to please you because you have been pushing him. After all, he wants to go into business, but I cannot help him do that.’

  ‘He would give up that idea for you.’

  ‘Anne, please stop. You are trying to bully me and I have decided I will no longer be influenced by what other people think.’

  Anne gave a hollow laugh. ‘But you are! You are worrying about gossip.’

  ‘Not for myself.’ She was near to tears. She had so wanted to accept Harry, had worried about the effect of gossip on the Hemingford family name and how it would spoil Harry’s reinstatement in Society and his stature as a hero, not to mention returning into favour with his grandfather; then to be told the Earl was trying to
bribe him to marry her was the outside of enough. ‘And I collect it was you who mentioned gossip at dinner, so you cannot be impervious to it.’

  ‘That was different. I only want to protect you both.’

  ‘I know, dearest Anne, I know. But you would do it best by accepting what cannot be changed.’

  ‘Then if you have quite made up your mind, I shall have to help Harry make his gun.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I still have the money my grandmother left me. It is not a fortune, but I mean to give it to him for his project.’

  ‘But, Anne, is that wise? You might need it yourself.’

  ‘I do not think so. As neither of us expects to marry, we might as well live together. I will be his housekeeper and his helpmate. With my money and his half-pay and what Grandfather allows him, we shall do very well and he shall have his ordnance manufactory.’

  This turn to the conversation was worrying Jane. It was as if Anne had known all along that she would not agree to marry Harry, or that Harry himself was not convinced that was what he wanted. ‘Anne, are you sure you should? The war might end before he could produce his gun and you would lose everything.’

  ‘He said when the war ended he would turn to making the perfect sporting gun. I know he will be a great success and everyone will have to acknowledge it.’

  ‘But it is tantamount to gambling.’

  ‘Jane, dear, I have faith in Harry, even if you do not. And I beg you not to refine upon it or we shall have a falling out.’

  Jane turned away as the men came into the room and sat down. Anne poured tea for them and they began a desultory conversation, polite but meaningless, until the Earl decided to retire. After he had gone, leaving the three young people to amuse themselves, Harry suddenly jumped up. ‘Jane wants to dance,’ he said, holding out his hand to her. ‘You will play for us, won’t you, Sis?’

 

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