by Mary Balogh
"Almost seven," Primrose said. "I was only nine years old. I hardly remember his being here. He was away much of the time even then, you see, at university."
"Yes," Rebecca said, waiting for the girls to join her in the pasture, "it must be that long. How time does fly!"
"He never did come home even once when he was married to Angela," Primrose continued. "It always seemed strange. You would have thought she would have liked to see the place where he grew up, would you not? But they always stayed in London. We had to visit them there."
"It was lovely for us, though," Ellen said. "I hope that Christopher will not move permanently away from London now that he is a widower. It would be most provoking just when we are of an age to take part in the social activities there."
"He is coming for a visit," Primrose explained, "now that his year of mourning is over. He does not say how long he plans to stay. But Mama and Papa are over the moon, and Julian. I think he likes the idea of having a rich and fashionable brother to show off." She giggled. "And so do we. Christopher is most awfully handsome, Miss Shaw. We shall enjoy walking down the street in the village holding on to his arms. Shall we not, Ellen?"
"Maybe he will buy us some new bonnets and trinkets," the older girl said. "It would be a shame if he did not. He is very rich, you know."
Primrose, walking-or rather tripping along-beside Rebecca, looked up at her with a bright smile. "You must have known Christopher when he lived here," she said. "You are almost as old as he is, are you not?"
"He is three years my senior," Rebecca replied. "And three years seems quite a wide span to children. I did not know him well when we were very young." She did not define what very young meant, but Primrose seemed satisfied with her answer.
"He was handsome even then," the younger girl said. "I remember that at least. I'll wager all the girls were in love with him, were they not, Miss Shaw?"
Rebecca laughed. "I daresay he had his fair share of admirers," she said. And she added lightly, "It was a black day, indeed, for the female inhabitants of this county when he took himself off to London and decided never to return."
"Well, fortunately he has decided to return again," Ellen said. "The day after tomorrow, Miss Shaw. And he is single again. He surely will want another wife. He must have got used to the married state and will feel lonely without Angela. We think perhaps he will like Harriet. She is certainly lovelier than Angela was."
He had said never, Rebecca was thinking. He had said he would never return. And never had turned out to be less than seven years. She supposed it was only natural that he would want to return to his parents' home at least for a visit when he had recently lost his wife and the child that she was unable to deliver before her death. It was understandable. But very unfair. She had thought that never meant not ever. She could have lived with that.
Primrose was nudging Ellen, and Ellen was giggling. "Is Mr. Bartlett at home this afternoon, Miss Shaw?" she asked finally. "Or has he gone out?"
“I believe he and Lady Holmes were going driving in the phaeton together after luncheon," Rebecca replied, "but I think it likely that they have both returned for tea "
"Do you not consider him handsome, Miss Shaw?" Primrose asked. "Ellen does, though he is a little too short for my liking. I admire tall men. And I do not like men with red hair. Lady Holmes looks very well with it, but her brother would look better with brown hair, I believe."
"It is not red," Ellen protested. "It is auburn. Is it not, Miss Shaw?"
Rebecca considered. "Certainly Mr. Bartlett's hair is not as bright a red as his sister's," she said. "But is he not a little old for you, Ellen? I do believe he is at least of an age with me." She smiled in some amusement at the blushing Miss Sinclair.
"Well, you are not old, Miss Shaw," she said. "Besides, I have not said I have a tendre for him. Stop it, Prim," she said crossly as her sister nudged her again. "I have met him only once, when Lady Holmes brought him to call yesterday. And he had remarkably superior manners. Both Mama and Papa said so. Is he to stay long, Miss Shaw?"
"I really could not say," Rebecca replied.
Mr. Stanley Bartlett, Maude's older brother, had arrived quite unexpectedly three days before, followed by a valet and a veritable mountain of luggage. Nothing had been said in Rebecca's hearing about the expected duration of his visit. But no one was anxious to see him leave-thus far, at least. He was a man of considerable charm. He had that rare gift of being able to adapt his manner to all kinds of people so that all the varied members of the baron's household liked him, including Rebecca. His presence was a welcome addition to their family group and-if these girls were in any way typical-to the neighborhood.
"We are almost there," Ellen said, looking to the attractive yellow brick mansion ahead of them, its walls ivy-covered, its base surrounded by pink rhododendrons. "Now, remember, Prim, you are not to say a word. And you are not to jump up and down looking as if you were ready to burst. You are not to drop any hints at all."
Chapter 2
Ellen was the first into the drawing room after the butler when they arrived at Limeglade. She was rewarded by the sight of both Lord and Lady Holmes as well as Mr. Bartlett and Harriet, all seated and obviously awaiting tea, though the tea tray had not yet been brought. She was less gratified by the sight of her brother, also seated.
She curtsied to all the occupants of the room and greeted each in turn. She turned to her brother last. "Julian," she said sharply, "you did not say at luncheon that you planned to ride over here. I suppose you galloped as hard as you could. And I suppose you have told already?"
Julian Sinclair, a tall, slim young man with a pleasant, eager face and thick, unruly brown hair, raised his eyes to the ceiling for a brief moment. "I knew I would not have had a moment's peace at home for a month if I had breathed a word," he replied. "No, the pleasure is all yours, Ellen."
"We thought you were never coming home, Rebecca," Harriet was saying crossly. "I met Julian while out riding and invited him back for tea, and we have both been waiting here for half an hour. Maude insisted that we wait for you, though I do not see why. You know when teatime is, and even if you are not here on time, you will not starve. You can eat when you come."
"The walk is too long, Rebecca, my dear," the baron added, looking at his niece with disapproval. "You would not be late for tea, you know, if you would just take the gig as I have advised you to do. Your cheeks are positively red, my dear. You will be fortunate if you do not do permanent damage to your complexion, or-worse-take a chill. Perhaps I should summon Dr. Gamble to look at you just in case?"
"But it is a good thing we did wait, Harriet," Lady Holmes said calmly. "Now we can have tea with the Misses Sinclair too."
"The rosy cheeks are vastly becoming to my mind," Mr. Bartlett said with a dazzling smile and an elegant bow in Rebecca's direction.
Rebecca smiled at everyone. "I am certainly ready for a cup of tea," she said. "And Miss Sinclair has brought some news that will be of interest to everyone."
She sat down as everyone's attention turned to the elder Miss Sinclair.
Ellen was no more able than her sister had been to play with her audience and enjoy their attention for as long as possible before divulging the core of the matter. "Christopher is coming home!" she said, beaming first at Harriet, then at Maude, and finally at Lord Holmes. "In two days' time he should be here."
"Splendid!" the baron said, showing a flattering degree of interest in the youthful Miss Sinclair. "Shocking affair, that of his wife. Still in mourning, is he? A fine figure of a man he was when I saw him last. Fashionable. Top of the trees, you know. Liked to risk his health rather too much, perhaps-riding and boxing, you know. It is ironic that Mrs. Sinclair should be the one to pass on. One can never be too careful." He sighed deeply. "He should have chosen his physician more carefully. One can never be too careful I always say. One should choose one's physician with as much care as one chooses one's tailor." He paused a moment. "Perhaps even more carefully
."
Harriet waited impatiently for her father to finish his monologue. "Christopher Sinclair is coming here?" she said. "Papa and I met him several times when we were in town a few years ago. I hardly remembered him from before he left here. But there he was a spendidly handsome man. We would have entertained him more often if it had not been for his wife. She was the daughter of a cit," she added, the explanation directed toward Mr. Bartlett. "Rather a vulgar creature, I am afraid." She seemed suddenly to realize that she was in the presence of the brother-in-law and sisters-in-law of the late Mrs. Sinclair and had the grace to flush. "Of course," she added, "one must not speak ill of the departed."
Fortunately two events occurred to cover her confusion. The tea tray arrived and was carried over to Lady Holmes, who proceeded to pour. And Mr. Bartlett took up the conversation.
"Mr. Christopher Sinclair is your brother?" he asked Ellen, his eyebrows raised, one hand toying with the handle of his quizzing glass. "I had no idea."
"You know him?" she said, all eager smiles and dimples.
"Why, yes, Miss Sinclair," he replied, "I am acquainted with him. And was with his wife." He turned with a reassuring smile to a still-flushed Harriet. "It is true that she did not share his breeding or his education, but she did have other qualities that perhaps saved her from being truly vulgar." He turned back to Ellen. "I might have known, of course, had I given the matter thought, that he is of your family. He shares a remarkable handsomeness with his brother and sisters."
Ellen blushed and giggled, and even Primrose looked gratified.
"Do you know my brother too, Lady Holmes?" Julian asked.
Maude looked up at him as she put down the teapot. "I am afraid not," she said. "I spent only a short time in London before my marriage. Stanley knows a vastly larger number of people than I do."
She turned her attention to Rebecca as the younger people continued to talk about the expected arrival and all the extra activities that the event was bound to bring.
"How was the school today, Rebecca?" she asked.
Rebecca shrugged and smiled rather ruefully. "There were only fourteen boys there," she said, "the fewest so far. But the weather is exceptionally good. I am sure there must be much work for them to do with their fathers."
"The Reverend Everett must be disappointed," Maude said sympathetically. "He sets great store by the success of the school, does he not?"
"Yes," Rebecca replied, "I am afraid he does. Poor Philip is so otherworldly himself and puts so much effort into all he does, that he expects an equal dedication from everyone. He cannot be contented with letting the school develop gradually. I keep telling him that it is a totally new idea for the people of the village and farms to be able to have their sons educated. They must be given time to get accustomed to the idea-a few years, perhaps."
"The Reverend Everett deserves success," Maude commented. "The welfare 6f others is always so much more important than his own well-being. I noticed last Sunday as I shook hands with him on leaving church that there was a patch on the hem of his surplice. I do admire him so."
"I call that affectatious," the baron added, having swung his attention from one conversation to the other. "The fellow does not need to walk around with a patched surplice. This is the richest living for miles around. It don't do for a clergyman to go around in rags. He makes the gentry look miserly. My brother never did that, Rebecca, dear, even though he had some peculiar notions.''
Rebecca smiled. "I am sure Philip will never be reduced to wearing rags, Uncle Humphrey," she said. "But I do know that he cares little for personal vanity."
"It is a kind of vanity to wear patched clothes," the baron added sagely. "He likes other people to notice how godly he is. I still believe that the niece of Lord Holmes could have made a better match, Rebecca."
She smiled affectionately at him but did not reply. They had exhausted all there was to say on that topic long ago.
"May I come with you one day, Rebecca?" Maude asked, looking almost beseechingly at the niece who was three years older than she. "I should like to see your school when the boys are there. I would not get in the way at all. In fact, I could perhaps be useful. You are by far more knowledgeable than I am. Yet you said yourself but last week that my French is better than yours. Perhaps I could teach a little?"
Rebecca opened her mouth to explain as tactfully as she could that she and Philip had decided not to include any language other than English in their school curriculum-at first, anyway. Not even Latin was to be taught. They had both agreed that the boys had a great deal to learn merely to read and write their own language correctly. However, the baron spoke before she did.
"There is no call for you to do any such thing, my love," he said to his wife. "It is bad enough to have my niece involved in such low pursuits. It would not do at all for Lady Holmes of Limeglade to involve herself in the running of a school for the vulgar. Such behavior would tarnish both your image and mine."
"But, my lord," Maude said, raising large eyes timidly to his, "it would give me something to do. Sometimes I feel so useless. The household runs so smoothly, and dear Harriet likes to do her part as she did before I came here. It is surely becoming for your wife to involve herself in charitable activities."
"I shall take you to visit the school one afternoon," the baron said, "and the boys can recite their lessons for us. That is charitable enough. But you will not teach. You have enough to do, my love, keeping yourself looking beautiful. You mustn't exert yourself doing much else. Work ruins the health and the complexion."
Maude's eyes had dropped to the tea in the cup she held with one hand. "I shall not go, then, my lord," she said quietly, "if you do not wish it."
Rebecca turned her attention away from this mild domestic dispute. She felt sorry for Maude. Her uncle's wife was a quiet and sensible girl. Yet she was married to a foolish and vain man thirty years her senior. He should have been much wiser than she, a father figure almost. Certainly he thought himself wiser. Consequently, he gave her very little freedom. It was not that he was a tyrannical or hardhearted man. Rather he was an aging man who was trying to prolong or recapture his own youth through a young wife. He cosseted her, protected her, and treated her more as a fragile doll than a woman. Having always been idle yet contented himself, he failed to understand that his wife was bored and restless.
It was a great shame that he refused to listen to her occasional pleas for more activity, Rebecca reflected. At least so far her suggestions had all been on the side of good. She had wished to create a flower garden to the south of the house, doing much of the work herself. The flower garden was now in existence, but Lady Holmes had not been permitted any part in its creation. She had wished to visit the sick, taking with her gifts of baking and needlework that she had made herself. She now did visit the sick one afternoon a month, conveyed in the baron's best closed traveling carriage. But she carried offerings that the servants had made. And now she wished to help at the school.
Perhaps if she became bored and frustrated enough, Lady Holmes would turn her attention to less desirable activities. Perhaps she would learn to ride recklessly or.. Rebecca's imagination at the moment could provide no vice more terrible than that. But she did feel sorry for Maude. She knew that she herself would chafe terribly against such restrictions. At least with Philip she would be sure of always having plenty to do.
She let her eyes roam around the rest of the group gathered in the drawing room. Julian Sinclair, eager and boyish, was talking earnestly to Harriet. He fancied himself in love with her, perhaps really was so. They had grown up together, were only a year apart in age. He must know her well enough to know that she was moody: haughty one minute, all contrite affection the next; coldly aloof at one time, warmly impulsive at another. Yet he still sought her company, beseeched her with his eyes for something more than the offhand treatment he usually received from her.
Harriet, Rebecca suspected, still did not know what she wanted of life. She shared much of he
r father's vanity and foolishness. Yet against all reason, Rebecca was fond of her cousin. She had little reason to be. Harriet had scant patience for Rebecca's apparent lack of interest in her personal appearance and advancement and for her devotion to helping others.
She had once called Philip a pompous ass, but that had been immediately after she had been forced to listen to a sermon in which he had condemned the vanity of worldly possessions. She had been convinced that the sermon was directed against her because she was sitting conspicuously in her father's padded pew at the front of the church wearing a particularly frivolous new bonnet. She had apologized to Rebecca later the same day, saying that the sermon could not have been meant personally as the Reverend Everett's sermons were always prepared in advance and he could have had no way of knowing that she would be wearing a new bonnet on that particular Sunday.
However it was, Rebecca considered Julian's chances of winning Harriet slim. He was too young and unsure of himself to control her headstrong temperament. And he was of no social significance. The Sinclairs were of good lineage and were a long-established family in the county. But they had never been particularly wealthy or prominent in any other way. Their only claim to distinction at present was their relationship to Christopher Sinclair, who had made himself quite fabulously wealthy by contracting a marriage with the daughter of a cit, a man who had amassed a fortune in business and trade.
Rebecca had no wish to continue that train of thought. She turned her attention to Mr. Bartlett, who was entertaining the two Sinclair girls. He was smiling; his eyes were dancing. The two girls were listening to him, bright-eyed and rapt. Rebecca found herself smiling too. Their family circle had certainly brightened since the arrival of Maude's brother, despite the fact that Maude herself had not seemed overjoyed to see him when he arrived unexpectedly. Maude still seemed not to think of Limeglade as her home. She seemed to have felt embarrassed that a relative of hers would invite himself to stay with Lord Holmes.