“Do you make Mr. Oakley's clothes?”
“Lors, no. He has a tailor in London for that. I have sometimes…” the dressmaker clamped her lips shut as if she’d said too much.
“Yes?”
“It’s nothing I should discuss with a nice young lady like yourself…” Then as if she couldn’t help herself. “But sometimes Mr. Oakley might buy a new dress for a lady friend. Like Mrs. Somerson. Though she turned her nose up at my dresses.” The dressmaker sniffed. “Only Paris fashions are good enough for her. Not that she’ll get many of them with things the way they are.”
“Mrs. Somerson is coming this weekend, I believe.” Catherine felt her heart drop. She’d heard from Aunt Harriet that Mr. Oakley was besotted with the beautiful young widow.
“So I hear.”
“In that case, Miss Alyssa and I will wear your beautiful clothes with pride,” said Catherine, smiling, “and show her what she’s missing.”
At that the dressmaker’s eyes filled with tears of gratitude. “What a lovely young lady you are. It’s a pity that Mr. Oakley…” She left it there, and despite Catherine’s entreaties, refused to be drawn into any further discussion.
When Catherine entered the dining room later that evening, dressed in a gown of pale blue silk, Alyssa ran towards her. “Oh darling, you look so pretty. Does she not, Mr. Oakley, Mr. Harrington?”
Mr. Oakley stood up and bowed. “I fear that with the two Miss Willoughby’s and Aunt Harriet,” he bowed to his aunt, who was already seated on account of her age, “we’re surrounded by far too much beauty for mere mortals, Andrew,” he said.
Aunt Harriet twittered slightly. It had occurred to Catherine some months before that in bringing his aunt to Oakley Castle, Mr. Oakley had not only done Catherine and Alyssa a good turn, he’d also helped his aunt. She had been widowed at around the same time Jimmy died, and was left with very little income. It was also noticeable how everyone called her Aunt Harriet, even Catherine, Alyssa and Mr. Harrington. The lady seemed to enjoy the title, perhaps because she had very few relatives apart from Mr. Oakley, and she liked to think of herself as being part of a family.
“You’re hardly a mere mortal, Mr. Oakley,” said Catherine, as he held out her seat for her. She felt sure he was only teasing her about being beautiful, when Alyssa, dressed all in white was a sheer vision of loveliness.
Mr. Harrington helped Alyssa into her chair. He was clearly already besotted with her. But Catherine had been told that his family was almost as impoverished as the Willoughbys. If Alyssa was to be cared for, then she needed a much richer beau. Catherine felt a little bit ashamed about being so mercenary, then reminded herself that Alyssa also understood that and was quite content with it. “I’ve heard it said you can walk on water,” she said to Mr. Oakley.
“Now you’re teasing me, Miss Willoughby.”
“I’ve never seen him walk on water. Seen him fall into the Channel a few times,” said Mr. Harrington as he took his own seat.
“I don’t need to come to my own home to be insulted,” said Mr. Oakley. “I have many more places I can visit for that.” Despite his jocular tone, Catherine sensed an undercurrent, as if he were warning Mr. Harrington about something.
“I can’t imagine you have many chances to fall into the Channel nowadays,” said Catherine. “Is it even safe to cross it?”
“I know I should be terrified,” said Alyssa. “I’m sure the French must be waiting to attack any English boat.”
“I assure you we are just as ready to fight back, Miss Alyssa,” said Mr. Oakley.
“I’m told that you both served in the army with Jimmy,” said Alyssa. “You must tell us all about the battles in which you took part.” She was looking at Mr. Harrington as she spoke, her eyes full of admiration.
“I’m sure you’d soon be bored,” said Mr. Oakley, with a somewhat cynical tone to his voice. “And I’m sure that young ladies such as yourselves should not be discussing such things.”
“Not at all,” said Catherine. “Women can be just as interested in great battles as men.” Given that Oakley had been forced to resign his commission, she doubted he’d have much of a story to tell.
“Is it true you were accused of insubordination, Mr. Oakley?” asked Alyssa.
Only Alyssa could get away with asking such a direct question, but even so it took everyone by surprise. Catherine was grateful, as she was interested in knowing what happened.
“It is not something of which we speak,” said Aunt Harriet, primly. “Alexander’s father was most annoyed.” Then as if remembering who was feeding her and keeping a roof over her head, she added, “I am sure Alexander had his reasons.”
“Is it true, Mr. Oakley?” asked Catherine, determined to find out the truth of the matter.
“It is true,” said Mr. Oakley. “And if I had my time again, I’d do exactly the same.”
“What happened?”
“Our Commanding Officer became very drunk one night and decided that a nearby village was harbouring insurgents, despite the fact that we’d had no intelligence of the sort. He ordered us to go and ‘wake up the natives’. What he intended was a cold-blooded massacre and had we gone, we’d have been guilty of an atrocity beyond measure, and for no military benefit. So I ignored the order hoping that he would forget it once he’d sobered up in the morning. Unfortunately he didn’t.”
Catherine could see the haunted look in his face, as if he was thinking of what might have happened to the innocent villagers. She shivered slightly.
“So Oakley, who had quickly worked his way up the ranks, was just as quickly busted down to Captain and politely asked to resign his commission,” said Mr. Harrington. “Several of us, myself and Jimmy included, followed him as a measure of our support.”
“What happened to the Commanding Officer?” asked Catherine. She wondered why Jimmy had never told her the story, instead letting her and their father continue to believe that Mr. Oakley had behaved badly, when in fact he had behaved with great courage and nobility. “Surely he wasn’t allowed to continue in his command?”
“He’s dead,” said Mr. Oakley. Now there was a definite warning note in his voice as he looked at Andrew Harrington. “But this is not a discussion to be having with two young ladies. I suggest we move on to more cheerful topics. Andrew, I’m sure you have some gossip from the Court with which to delight and enthrall our young guests.”
As Mr. Harrington kept Alyssa amused with talk of The Prince of Wales and the court, Catherine kept going back over their earlier conversation, feeling there was something she’d missed that might be important.
“Please,” she heard Mr. Oakley say to her quietly in his warm, deep tones, “put it out of your mind. I should never have told you. It isn’t a proper discussion to be having with two young ladies.”
“I’m glad you did,” she replied. “I must admit that in the past I’ve had an opinion of you that I now know is unfair. I thought you cared about nothing but clothes and …” she was going to say women, but changed it for ‘horses.”
“Horses?” His raised eyebrow suggested that he knew exactly what she’d intended to say.
“Yes. But the kindness you’ve shown me and my sister, and your courage in defying your Commanding Officer tells me that you’re a very different man. So I owe you an apology.”
“You owe me nothing of the sort. Sometimes the image we put out to the world is the one we wish them to see.”
She wondered what exactly he meant by that. As she looked across the table at him, Catherine began to think that perhaps she could trust him. As Mr. Harrington amused Alyssa with yet another piece of Court gossip, Mr. Oakley leaned across to her and said in a low voice, “If you’re wondering if you can trust me, then the answer is yes. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
She glanced down at her meal, feeling unnerved. How could he know her every thought and every feeling?
Chapter Three
Catherine didn’t get a chance to talk to Mr. Oakley the n
ext day. His guests from London arrived in a convoy of magnificent carriages, and Oakley Castle was a bustle of activity as they were presented then shown to their rooms.
“Miss Willoughby, Miss Alyssa, I would like you to meet Mrs. Somerson,” said Mr. Oakley, as a red haired beauty climbed the steps where Catherine and Alyssa waited.
Phoebe Somerson made a beeline for Alyssa. “Oh, Xander, you were right about her. She is such a doll. I will make you my pet when we go to Court, dear, and ensure only the very best looking and richest young men talk to you.” She took Alyssa by the arm, and walked into the house with her, virtually ignoring Catherine. Alyssa glanced back, alarmed, clearly not liking the idea of being Phoebe Somerson’s pet very much at all.
“My sister, Miss Catherine Willoughby, is also pleased to meet you,” Alyssa said pointedly.
“Oh yes, Miss Willoughby,” said Phoebe, remembering her manners. She held out her hand, which was cold to the touch. “I think Xander might have mentioned you.”
Rather than being offended, Catherine was amused. She gave a small curtsey. “Mrs. Somerson. I think Mr. Oakley might have mentioned you too,” she said, mischievously.
She noticed Mr. Oakley’s lips twitch slightly and wondered if he was about to remonstrate with her. Instead he gestured for Catherine to go into the house with Phoebe and Alyssa, and he followed them.
There was no doubt that Phoebe Somerson already considered Oakley Castle to be hers, and that she was the hostess for the weekend. She had no compunction about standing at Mr. Oakley’s side as he talked to his guests, taking the honour they showed him as her due. She was charming to everyone, and everyone was charmed by her. Except Catherine, to whom she seemed rather brittle. But she was wise enough to admit to herself that seeing Phoebe Somerson at Oakley’s side irked her a little. In a short time she had come to admire him greatly and to appreciate why Jimmy did. She could not understand why a man of his intelligence and courage would want a woman who seemed to have very little of any importance to say. But, she supposed, he had other reasons for admiring Mrs. Somerson. That she was beautiful was without doubt. She would make a fine Mrs. Oakley.
In Phoebe Somerson Catherine also saw what Alyssa might become. Could she bear to see her sister turn into such a mercenary? For the first time she began to wonder if she’d done the right thing in bringing Alyssa to Oakley Castle. It was too late now. The die was cast. But she hoped that Alyssa might keep some of the humanity that Catherine knew was hidden amongst the love of fine clothes and flattering words from men. If only Alyssa could marry someone like Mr. Oakley. He might inspire her to be a better person. At that thought, Catherine wondered why she had not considered that before. Apart from the fact that Mr. Oakley was twelve years older than Alyssa, he would be the perfect choice. So why, when she thought of him with her sister, did Catherine feel even more irritation than she did seeing him with Phoebe Somerson?
The answer came to her in an instant. He had no intentions of ever marrying Phoebe Somerson. She might make a fine Mrs. Oakley in regards to her looks, but there was something rather cheap about her manner. Alyssa, on the other hand, was well brought up, and though young, behaved in a way a noble lady should. Mr. Oakley would never marry Phoebe Somerson, but he might marry someone like Alyssa.
“Are you well, Miss Willoughby?”
She jumped when she realized that once again he had crept up on her, but that once again she became acutely aware of his presence as soon as he did make it known. “I am very well, thank you, Mr. Oakley.”
“Only you looked a little upset. Has anything happened to disturb you?”
“No, not at all. It has been a long day and I’m just a little tired. We’ve lived rather a quiet life at Willoughby Manor. I’ve never been in the presence of so many people before. I feel as if…”
“As if what, Catherine?” The tender use of her first name surprised her so much, she had no chance to question if it was proper. All she knew is that she liked the way he said it in his deep tones.
“I’m being silly. And ungrateful. I’m sorry.”
“You feel as if you’d like to run away from them all, and go somewhere quiet.”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“It’s how I sometimes feel. Seeing the same people time after time. Hearing the same gossip. It all gets rather boring. But you are far too new to this to be tired of it yet. You’re young and beautiful, and should be surrounded by eager admirers. In fact I intend to take my friends to task about their lack of manners. I fully expected to be having to warn them all to stop crowding you.”
“I think Alyssa outshines every other woman in the room far too much for that.” She looked across to her sister, who was indeed surrounded by several handsome young men.
“And yet you don’t seem to mind? Most women would be vying for attention. Like Mrs. Somerson.”
As he said it, Phoebe Somerson laughed loudly, but without any real humour, drawing all eyes away from Alyssa and to herself.
“I’ve already told you, I’ve no wish to enter into the marriage market. I just want Alyssa to be happy.”
“And I’ve told you that you’re far too young and beautiful to make that decision. Unless like many women in this room you’re waiting for the Captain to jump through your window and propose.”
“Now you’re mocking me. Besides, from what I hear, the Captain has more than enough admirers.”
“True. It’s a wonder he gets anything done.”
Catherine laughed. “I’ve often thought the same. And if he kisses every woman he saves, he’s clearly not very discerning. But he is very brave and noble and his cause is a good one.”
“You should beware of fairy stories, Miss Willoughby. Sometimes people are not what the legends say they are.”
“You sound as if you know him.” The thought hadn’t occurred to Catherine before, but she supposed that if Jimmy had known the Captain then Mr. Oakley might have too. In fact, he could be in the room now. She scoured the faces of all the man, wondering, before her eyes naturally fell upon Oakley.
“I have never met the man,” said Oakley, firmly. “And I doubt very much he’s here. He is, by all accounts, the son of a tradesman.”
“Now I’m disappointed in you,” said Catherine.
“Why?”
“I did not think you were a snob.”
“I’m not, but many of the people here are. And whilst they may cheer on the Captain’s adventures, I can assure you, he would not be allowed to set foot in their drawing rooms.” There was something harsh about the way he spoke, as if such snobbery mattered to him personally. “Which reminds me. You and I need to…”
“Xander…” Phoebe Somerson stepped forward and put her hand on Oakley’s arm, her pretty lips set in a pout. “You’re neglecting me after I’ve come all this way. What are you and Miss Willoughby talking about? Were you teaching her some new nursery rhymes?”
“Actually,” said Mr. Oakley, “we were discussing fairy stories.”
Mrs. Somerson laughed, obviously relieved to hear it. “Well I refuse to let you tuck her in. Leave that to the servants. Come, I wish to play your wonderful piano, and you must turn the pages.”
Catherine felt as though she’d been slapped. Whilst she didn’t care what Mrs. Somerson thought of her, Mr. Oakley’s words put her very much in her place. To him she was nothing more than a child. If only he knew the truth! She bit her lip to stop some tears that threatened to fall, wondering why it mattered so much to her what he thought. A few weeks ago she hadn’t even liked him.
She glanced up to find him looking down at her, with a quizzical look in his eyes. Phoebe was already on her way to the piano which was in the salon adjoining the drawing room.
“Now you are upset,” said Mr. Oakley. “Why?”
“Xander? You promised to turn the pages,” Mrs. Somerson called from the adjoining room.
“I think Mrs. Somerson wants you,” said Catherine.
***
Xander had tro
uble concentrating on turning the pages, wondering what on earth had got into Catherine. Everything had been fine until Phoebe had come along. Then it began to dawn on him. But it couldn’t be true and if it was, he would have to nip it in the bud. He was nearly thirty years old, Catherine was only nineteen. What’s more he was her legal guardian and responsible for her welfare. But he’d have been a fool if he hadn’t noticed how her initial coolness with him had turned to admiration. Clearly she was building him up in her mind as some sort of hero because he’d helped her and Alyssa and because of the story he’d told at dinner the night before. He hadn’t considered how impressionable young girls could be, having spent most of his time in the company of either men or older women.
No, he’d definitely have to find some way to get down off the pedestal on which Catherine had clearly placed him. Her admiration was a complication he couldn’t afford, especially if he was going to encourage her to marry someone else. At that thought he felt himself getting angry. What if he chose the wrong man for her? What if she ended up living a miserable life with a husband who treated her badly? Or to a man who didn’t understand that, rare amongst women, she liked to discuss topics other than her pretty new bonnet? His duty would only last until the day she married, yet part of him felt that it went beyond that. It then struck him like a flash of lightning that the idea of her being married to anyone else but him was anathema to him. That came with the knowledge that she was very young, and if he approached her in a romantic way, she might even see it as a betrayal of the trust she’d put in him. He’d be guilty of taking advantage of a vulnerable young woman who, in the past two years had lost both her father and her brother, leaving her without a stabilizing male influence in her life.
Imitation of Love Page 3