by Mary Balogh
Lady Romley and the dowager Countess of Brampton were helped into the closed carriage. The dowager declared that although the day was hot and still now, a treacherous breeze would be caused by the movement of the carriages and might bring chills with it. Better to be safe inside a closed conveyance, she said. They were joined by Lucy and Sir Henry, Faith and Kenneth.
Annabelle and Ted climbed into the landau and sat side by side, facing the horses. Charles had that morning offered to take his curricle, on the private condition that Charlotte ride with him.
"I shall leave the landau for Lady Brampton," Susanna now announced loudly and magnanimously, "that is, if Captain Adair will not object to my company in his curricle?" She fluttered her eyelashes in his direction.
What could he do? He gave the expected gallant reply, grasped her plump waist, and hoisted her into the high seat beside his. He threw a helpless glance in Charlotte's direction.
Lord Romley and Rodney Langford meanwhile appeared on horseback, ready to accompany the carriages.
Devin Northcott was quick to size up the remaining possibilities. He did not wish to place Miss Wells in an embarrassing situation.
"Lady Brampton," he said smiling and extending a hand to her, "d'ye trust my driving well enough to accompany me? Am considered an adequate whip. Ask Bram there."
Margaret smiled and took his hand. "I do not need to ask, sir," she assured him. "I know I can trust such a good friend of my husband's." She allowed him to lift her carefully to her seat.
It cannot be said that either Brampton or Charlotte was entirely pleased with the turn of events, but they both conversed brightly with the two other occupants of the landau during the four-mile drive.
The vicar did indeed prove knowledgeable about the old church. He was delighted with his large and distinguished audience. He discoursed eloquently on the history and architecture of the building as he led the party down the nave toward the altar.
It soon became apparent, though, that the desire for an outing more than an eagerness for a history lesson had prompted most of the party to come. By the time the vicar reached the altar, more than half an hour after he had begun his guided tour, only Lord Romley, Margaret, Devin, Susanna, and Rodney remained of the original sixteen. Susanna would have been gone too if she had seen Charles slip away. As it was, she had to make the most of Rodney's company, commenting at one point, sotto voce, that these old buildings were frightfully cold; she shivered delicately. Rodney rejected his first instinct, which was to take off his coat and place it around her pretty, plump shoulders, and his second instinct, which was to put an arm around her; he took the only other possible course. Soon they too were headed up the aisle, her arm in his, headed for the warmth of the sun in the graveyard.
"If we stay here, Mr. Langford," she pouted prettily, "we shall be caught again by the vicar and forced to listen to the history of every horrid tombstone."
He grinned in appreciation of her opinion. "By all means, let us explore the village," he said.
Charles and Charlotte, meanwhile, were already in the village, sitting on a rustic bench outside the alehouse. They were arguing.
"I cannot ride back with you," Charlotte was explaining crossly. "It would be uncommon rude to Susanna."
"Charlotte, my love, have mercy on a man's tender constitution," Charles pleaded. "Boredom is a terrible-enough disease; it could be fatal. I might forget to continue living. But much worse is the very real danger of contracting pneumonia."
"You had better explain yourself," Charlotte said tartly. "You cannot expect silly, simpering misses to understand such obscure talk."
"By Jove, you are as cross as a bear today, are you not, my love?" Charles commented. "I merely meant that such a draft is caused by the fluttering of Miss Kemp's eyelashes that I am in mortal danger of catching a chill."
"Hmm," said Charlotte.
Charles leaned forward and looked into her face. "Out with it, Charlotte, my love," he said.
"Out with what?"
"With whatever it is that is bothering you."
"Whatever do you mean?" she said irritably. "There is nothing bothering me."
"I know you better than to believe that," he said. He thought for a while, still staring into her face. "Is this house party not to your liking?" he asked. "Is there someone missing that you would wish to be here?"
"No, of course not!"
"Hmm. Then, is there someone here that is not paying you the attention that you would wish?"
"Charles, stop this, this instant. I should like some lemonade, please."
"All in good time, my love. Who could it be? Ted Kemp? No, too milk and water for you. Rodney Langford? No, you would never be sure the right twin was making love to you. Devin Northcott? No, he is too old and set in his ways."
"He is not old," snapped Charlotte. "You told me yourself that he is but thirty."
"Aha! My love, I hope you never take to lying," he said smugly. "You would never convince anybody."
"Whatever do you mean?" she said.
"So the independent little Miss Wells is in love with a confirmed, old bachelor, is she?"
Charlotte opened her mouth to protest the description of Devin, then shut it again. "But I am just making a cake of myself," she said, the bad temper gone from her voice. "He does not know I exist."
"I would not say that," Charles mused. "He seemed very aware of your existence that day he rescued you from certain death in the park."
"Don't tease, Charles. This is no joke to me."
"Poor Charlotte," he commented, an affectionate smile in his eyes. "What can we do?"
"I don't know," she replied seriously. "We need a plan."
"Well, while you are devising one, smile and look cheerful," he advised. "Here comes the gentleman with your sister, and you do not wish him to know that you are languishing for him, do you?"
Charlotte smiled.
The vicar had finally exhausted all the information he knew about the interior of the church. He suggested that he take his party of three into the graveyard to show them some of the older and more interesting tombstones.
Margaret lagged behind as they emerged from the cold darkness of the stone building into the bright heat out of doors.
"Take m' arm, Lady Bram?" Devin offered, turning back to her and perceiving her fatigue.
"Thank you, Mr. Northcott, but I must find somewhere to sit down for a while," Margaret replied. "I have become dizzy from so much standing."
"Lean on me, ma'am," he said, looking into her face with concern.
While the vicar disappeared around the eastern corner of the church with the one remaining member of his audience, Devin led Margaret to sit on the low stone wall surrounding the churchyard.
"Ah, that is better. Thank you," said Margaret, sighing.
"Not feeling quite the thing, Lady Bram?"
"Oh, I shall be fine now," she said. "If it were just not so hot!"
"Shall I fetch Bram to you, ma'am?"
"Oh, no," Margaret said hastily. "Really, sir, I shall be quite rested in a few minutes."
"May I?" he asked, and sat beside her on the wall when she nodded. He removed a handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and used it, without too much effect, to fan her face beneath the brim of her chipstraw bonnet.
Margaret, whose feeling of faintness and slight nausea was leaving her, suddenly saw the humor of the scene. She turned and laughed up into his face, bare inches away. "Thank you, Mr. Northcott," she said gaily. "I feel quite recovered now, but I think your handkerchief was meant for other uses, sir."
Neither of them noticed the party of four which had just emerged from a confectioner's shop across the street. Devin helped Margaret to her feet, took her arm, and led her toward the tavern, where he hoped to find some shade and some water or lemonade for her.
Lord Brampton escorted Susanna and Annabelle into a haberdasher's store, but he took no part in the discussion they were having with Rodney Langford about the choice of s
ome ribbons. He was brooding on the radiant smile his wife had just bestowed on his best friend, and at such close quarters.
Chapter 11
Nobody was ever quite sure where the idea for the Brampton Court Fair originated. All the house guests seemed to contribute some idea. It began perhaps with Margaret's suggestion to her husband that they give a large dinner party for all the leading families of the area. Someone-perhaps Brampton himself, perhaps Charles-added the idea that perhaps, since they were going to all the trouble of inviting and catering to so many people-eight families in addition to the house guests, they might as well have a ball too.
Someone else-Charlotte perhaps?-thought it a shame that only the wealthier families should be part of the festivities. Yet how could one invite all the tenants to dine at the house? Soon there was a tumult of suggestions, most of which centered around the idea of moving the activities out of doors.
Eventually some sort of ordered plan emerged. The festivities were to include all the tenants of the estate and their children, and the invited families of the neighborhood. And they were to begin during the afternoon. There were to be races, pony rides, and other games for the children, baking and needlework competitions for the women, games of skill and strength for the men. There were to be booths for drinks and other refreshments.
During the early evening, oxen and pigs were to be roasted on outdoor spits for the tenants to feast on while the invited guests dined in the house. In the evening there was to be a dance out on the flat, lower lawn before the house. It was to be an occasion at which the rich would rub shoulders with the poor.
Invitations were sent out, the house party was extended a few days beyond the two weeks-only Sir Henry and Lady Lucy would have to return to London before the big day-and the plans were put into effect with feverish energy by the earl and the countess.
Margaret was more grateful than ever to have such a competent housekeeper as Mrs. Foster. Without any indication that she had been given an unusual assignment, that good lady began to organize the preparation of the food. It was a prodigious task, as all the tenants were to be fed liberally throughout the afternoon and evening, in addition to the regular meals for the guests and inhabitants of the house and the banquet for close to forty people.
Brampton made all the financial arrangements and made all the plans for the afternoon fair and the setting up of a large board floor on the lawn for the dancers. He arranged for the hiring of extra staff and of an orchestra.
The guests found new enthusiasm in helping with the preparations. The Langford twins accompanied Faith and Susanna into the village to choose prizes for the various competitions. Charlotte and Charles undertook to organize the children's games. The dowager and Lady Romley agreed to see that enough lamps and lanterns were gathered to hang in the trees surrounding the lower lawn. Lord Romley was seen to confer with the butler on the ordering of wines. Annabelle promised to help Margaret with flower arrangements on the day.
Margaret found her time very full with duties and obligations. She was finding herself almost constantly tired. She both welcomed and resented her lack of leisure time. She welcomed the fact that she had little time to brood on her troubles. Yet she resented the fact that she could not find the time to sit quietly and think about her situation.
Nothing had changed with Richard, except that she saw less of him than ever. Almost the only times she ever saw him alone were in the library when they were going over together some plans for the fair, and for the ten minutes or so when he visited her room each night. And on those occasions he rarely said more than a good night as he was leaving. Only on one occasion had he stayed longer or said more.
He had been later than usual coming to her, and Margaret had been dozing, curled on her side, one hand beneath her cheek. She had opened her eyes when he sat on the edge of the bed and took one of her braids in his hand.
"I am sorry, Richard," she had said, turning on to her back. "I must have fallen asleep."
He had looked down at her, his eyes smiling, but not his mouth. "My poor dear," he had said, "this is a very tiring time for you, is it not?"
"Indeed, Richard, I enjoy all the activity," she had assured him.
"But you are pale, my dear, and I noticed tonight that you played with the food on your plate instead of eating it."
"Indeed I ate sufficient, Richard," she had protested.
"And I am a cruel and selfish husband to come demanding more of your energy when you only wish to sleep," he had teased gently, a strange twist to his mouth.
"No, Richard," Margaret had said, calling all her training to her aid to keep her voice calm and her face expressionless. Her hands beneath the bedclothes had been clenched into tight fists. "I am your wife. I am never too tired for you."
"Then do your duty and obey this command," he had said. "Sleep, my dear." He had continued to gaze smilingly into her face, unaware of the painfully beating heart beneath the bedcovers. He had lifted the heavy braid that he was still holding, and placed it against his lips. And his lips had finally smiled.
Margaret could not obey his command. After he had left, she had wept into her pillow until she had finally gained comfort from holding the braid he had kissed against her own mouth. She had fallen eventually into an exhausted sleep.
No matter how busy her mind or her body might be over other matters, Margaret was almost constantly aware of her now-sure pregnancy. She felt well. Her tiredness was the only discomfort. The thought of having Richard's child growing inside her filled Margaret with a secret ecstasy that almost choked her at times. No matter what happened, or did not happen, between them in the future, part of him belonged to her and would continue to do so. Surely he would demonstrate her love when he knew, she sometimes thought. And she hoped fiercely that the child would be a boy so that Richard would be pleased with her.
Then at other times she would remember that he had married her only so that she would breed his children. Why should he love her for merely doing the duty for which she had been chosen? And would he stop coming to her altogether once he knew that his visits were no longer necessary? The thought filled Margaret with cold terror. She decided that she would wait until she was more certain before telling her husband.
For his part, Brampton did not welcome quite so eagerly the demands on his time and energy. He had arrived at the Brampton Court desperate with un-happiness over the loss of his angel and almost cursing his fate that had held her from him until it was too late for them to let their love grow openly. He had found it difficult to accept his wife's quiet, uncomplaining presence in his life. He had kept his distance from her, in an effort not to inflict his own unhappiness and ill-humor on her. For a few days he had been wretched with self-reproach. How could he have let her go without at least acquiring enough information to allow him to contact her again if he wanted? Only in his saner moments did he admit that what had happened was inevitable. There was no other alternative.
He had come into the country with the determined resolution to put the past behind him and to make a new start on his marriage. He intended to spend more time with his wife, to get to know her better, to resume his physical relationship with her.
He had found that matters were turning out not quite as planned. The obligation to entertain his guests proved quite arduous, particularly after plans for the fair got under way. He saw his wife probably more frequently than he had during the rest of their married life, but he was almost never alone with her, except when the press of business made personal talk impossible.
At night he saw her, but he always made his visits as short as possible. It had not escaped his attention that she sometimes looked pale and tired. And he believed that her slight little figure was even thinner than it had been. He hoped that his suggested house party was not going to reduce her stamina to the point at which she would become ill.
Brampton also found that putting the past behind him and trying to work on his marriage was not as difficult as he had expected. Physicall
y, he missed his angel terribly, but apart from that, he found there was not a great deal to miss. She had had a vitality and an impudence that had brightened his own mood, but really he had known almost nothing about her, not even her name. When he turned his attention to his wife, he discovered that she had great depth and strength of character. She was never a leading light among the people gathered at Brampton Court; one rarely heard her voice or noticed her-not unless one were deliberately watching. But Brampton began to notice that she was, in fact, a perfect hostess. She could initiate a conversation with just the right remark or question to set her companion talking on a favorite theme. Then she would sit and listen with a look of real interest.
He noticed that she quietly and unobtrusively ensured that everyone was always occupied in a way that would bring greatest satisfaction. And although Mrs. Foster was an efficient and able housekeeper, he noticed that it was his wife who really ran the household. And amazingly none of the servants seemed to resent the fact. In fact, Brampton noticed with fascination, they seemed to have a deep respect, even affection, for his wife.
Before many days had passed in the country, Brampton discovered that his wife was just the kind of person he would have liked his angel to be if he had had the chance to get to know her. Now if only his wife could have the life and passion of the other woman… He found himself wondering somewhat wistfully if she would allow herself to be loved, if he took the courtship very slowly and very gently.
But, he asked himself, did he want to love her? Was he ready to make the total commitment? He could not answer his own question with any satisfaction.
But he did know one thing: he was annoyed and-yes!-jealous of the friendship between his wife and Devin Northcott. He could not and did not suspect either of them of improper feelings for the other, but he resented the fact that they seemed to find it easy to converse with each other and to smile and laugh together.