The lane curved a little, passing close to the banks of the tidal river, which was very constricted at this point. The tide was out, leaving shining mudbanks that were just visible in the darkness, but soon the water would rush in again in the form of a tidal wave called a bore. It was a natural phenomenon for which the Severn was famous, and it made the river very dangerous indeed for navigation. A canal was being constructed, connecting Gloucester with the estuary, downstream of the hazardous bore, but it was far from complete yet, and so all shipping still had to negotiate the winding watercourse that had claimed countless lives and vessels over the centuries. Blanche had lived close to the Severn all her life, and knew its power only too well. She disliked driving along this part of the lane in the dark, with the water flowing so silently just a few feet away, and she was glad when the curve of the lane moved away from the banks again.
There was a fork ahead, one leading to the village, the other veering off to the right to lead over the hill, past St Mary’s church, to the deserted fishing house where elegant house parties from Amberley Court had once enjoyed the fashionable diversion of catching salmon and elvers. Projecting right out from the riverbank, the water visible beneath the boards of its verandah, the fishing house had at last become too dangerous to use, and was now in a state of disrepair. Blanche and her brother Jonathan had played there as children, until their father had found out and had punished them severely for being so foolish. He’d always meant to have the fishing house pulled down, but somehow he’d never done so, and so it was still there, falling further and further into disrepair with each winter.
The lights of Amberley St Mary twinkled in the darkness ahead as the trap approached the fork in the lane. The wheels rattled, and the pony’s hooves clattered, so that no one heard Sir Edmund’s carriage coming up behind at a very smart pace indeed. The coachman was tooling the dappled grays a little recklessly for such a narrow, dark lane, and he didn’t see the unlit trap until it was almost too late. Like the stagecoachman on the main highway a few minutes earlier, he was forced to rein in sharply and apply the brake.
Blanche turned suddenly, giving a scream as she saw the horses rearing and plunging only a few feet behind her. Hannah heard the scream and turned with a frightened gasp, clutching so hard at Jake’s arm that she made him jerk the reins. The pony swerved, almost catapulting the trap and its passengers into the ice-cold water of the little brook that flowed beside the lane.
Jake was unhurt, and Hannah only a little flustered, but Blanche had been flung bodily against the side of the trap, and was so badly winded that she could only lie on the floor, too racked with pain to move.
CHAPTER 5
The coachman struggled to bring his frightened team to a standstill, and for a moment or so there was silence, then Hannah turned anxiously, reaching down to touch Blanche. ‘Miss Blanche? Are you hurt?’
‘I-I don’t know….’ Blanche could barely speak.
The carriage window was lowered suddenly, and Sir Edmund leaned out a little irritably. ‘What in God’s name is going on, Richards?’ he demanded.
‘There was a pony and trap in front of me, sir, and it wasn’t carrying a lamp….’
‘Is anyone hurt?’
Before the coachman could reply, Hannah called out anxiously. ‘It’s Miss Blanche, Sir Edmund! Please help!’
He flung the carriage door open and vaulted lightly down, his scarlet uniform a vivid splash of color even in the darkness. He hurried to the trap, leaning in to where Blanche lay.
‘Miss Amberley?’
The pain was receding, and as it did so, Blanche was able to think more clearly. She turned her head slightly to look up at him. ‘Sir Edmund?’
Her hair was in a confusion of curls around her face, and he pushed it away gently, his gloved hand resting concernedly against her cheek. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Just a little winded, I think. I fell against the side of the trap.
‘Can you sit up?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Let me help you.’ Taking one of her hands, he slipped his other arm beneath her, easing her into a sitting position and then steadying her. ‘Is that all right?’
She nodded, and made to get out of the trap, but he held her back.
‘Take it easy, give yourself a minute or so before you do anything else.’ He looked at Hannah and Jake. ‘Have either of you come to any harm?’
Jake shook his head. ‘We’re all right, sir.’
Sir Edmund held his gaze. ‘In future, I suggest you carry a lamp.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Cutler, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Jake looked at him in some surprise. ‘How did you…?’
‘Your name was mentioned to me in connection with the occasional removal of game from my property.’
‘That’s a lie, sir!’ protested Jake immediately.
‘Is it? Well, I suggest you see that it is from now on,’ replied Sir Edmund shortly, returning his attention to Blanche. ‘I think you should continue the journey in my carriage, Miss Amberley.’
‘I’d rather not,’ she said quickly, not wanting to be closeted in so small a space with Lady Hetherington.
‘I’m not giving you the choice, Miss Amberley,’ he said. ‘I insist that you travel in the carriage, because you’ve been badly shaken and it wouldn’t do at all for you to remain in an open vehicle on such a cold night. Believe me, I’m quite prepared to see that you do as you’re told.’
She stared at him. ‘That won’t be necessary, sir.’ ‘Good.’ He held out his hand to assist her from the trap.
Reluctantly she accepted, but as she stepped down, she swayed a little, and he put an arm quickly around her waist. The moment of dizziness passed, and she pulled away from him. ‘I’m all right now, Sir Edmund.’
He inclined his head, and gestured toward the carriage. Without another word, she preceded him toward it, allowing him to help her up onto its luxurious green velvet seat.
Athena sat motionless inside, and said not a word as the extra passenger took her place. The silence was very heavy and embarrassing, and Blanche wished more than anything that Sir Edmund Brandon had left her to complete her journey in the pony and trap.
Jake was already driving swiftly on toward the village, and as Sir Edmund climbed into the carriage and closed the door, Richards urged the team into action again.
The Red Lion alehouse stood on the edge of Amberley St Mary, and it was bright with lamplight as the trap drove past, followed by the carriage. Raucous laughter and the sound of bawdy singing emanated from the open doorway, but there was no one to see the odd little procession. The lane swept uphill toward the armorial gates of Amberley Court at the top, dissecting a wide expanse of green that was lined on either side by a haphazard scattering of thatched, half-timbered cottages. Christmas wreaths adorned the neat doors, candles glowed in windows, and woodsmoke curled up from the chimneys, to be wafted away by the cold draft of air coming inland from the sea.
Orchard Cottage, Blanche’s home, was the dwelling closest to the gates. It was fairly large by village standards, with latticed windows peeping sleepily from beneath a sprawling thatched roof, and it had become the Amberley family’s residence because it was part of the estate and had happened to be empty at the time of the financial blow that had so reduced their circumstances. Behind it stretched the ancient cider apple orchard from which it took its name, and in front of it was a neat garden, with an ash path that led away from a gate flanked by two holly trees. The only lighted window was that of Blanche’s father’s bedroom, where candles glowed behind the green-and-white-chintz curtains.
Richards maneuvered the carriage to a standstill by the cottage gate, while Jake drove the trap on around to the back of the cottage, where a little stable looked out onto a walled yard.
Sir Edmund opened the carriage door and climbed down, turning to hold his hand out to Blanche. The silence had continued in the vehicle, but Blanche now felt a belated des
ire to warm the atmosphere if she possibly could. She turned to Athena. ‘I-I hope you’ll be very happy at Amberley Court, Lady Hetherington.’
‘Do you indeed,’ came the chilly reply, and Athena looked pointedly away.
Wishing she hadn’t weakened, Blanche accepted Sir Edmund’s hand and alighted, but if she thought that that was to be the end of the unwanted encounter, she was mistaken, for far from taking immediate leave of her, he opened the gate and showed every intention of escorting her to the door.
‘There’s no need, Sir Edmund,’ she said quickly, glancing back into the carriage.
‘On the contrary, Miss Amberley, there’s every need,’ he replied.
There was nothing for it but to do as he wished, and as they proceeded up the ash path she heard the back door of the cottage close, as Hannah went in from the yard. Amoment later, candlelight flickered beneath the front door as the housekeeper waited discreetly inside to answer the expected knock.
At the door with its holly wreath and crimson ribbons, Sir Edmund turned to face Blanche. ‘Miss Amberley, it seems very likely that our paths are going to cross from time to time now that I’ve at last taken up residence here, and although our original meeting was far from agreeable, and our second one barely less so, I do hope that we can get along from now on. It isn’t my wish to be at daggers drawn, I promise you.’
‘Nor is it mine, sir,’ she replied, suddenly able to smile at him. ‘Thank you for your kind assistance tonight.’
‘Not at all, for it seems to me that the fault was probably on both sides. Richards was proceeding too quickly, and you were proceeding too invisibly.’
‘Yes, I fear we were. Sir Edmund…?’
‘Miss Amberley?’
‘I’m truly sorry about Lady Hetherington’s clothes, but it was an accident.’
‘Miss Amberley, I didn’t for a moment imagine that the wine was hurled deliberately. Lady Hetherington has a rather, er, hasty temper, and is inclined to fly off the proverbial handle. She didn’t mean to say some of the things she did.’
Didn’t she? Blanche was of the opinion that spiteful Athena had meant every unkind shrewish word, and that Sir Edmund Brandon was laboring under a grave misapprehension where his beloved was concerned.
He glanced back at the carriage. ‘Well, perhaps I should take my leave of you now. Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘Good night, Miss Amberley.’
‘Good night, Sir Edmund.’
But as he turned to go, he halted suddenly, putting a hand out to the door to steady himself. She heard his breath catch, and saw the swift glance of pain on his face. His hand moved convulsively, seizing roughly upon the Christmas wreath and wrenching it from the string tying it to the door knocker. There was a deathly pallor on his skin, and beads of perspiration on his forehead as he stood there, his head bowed as he waited for a spasm of deep pain to pass.
She put an anxious hand on his arm. ‘Sir Edmund?’
‘Forgive me, Miss Amberley, I fear I’m not yet in full health.’
‘Can I get you a glass of water? A cognac, perhaps?’
‘There’s no need.’ He drew a long breath and raised his hand. ‘It’s passed now. I’m rather afraid I’ve ruined your Christmas decoration.’ He held out the crumpled wreath.
‘It can be mended, Sir Edmund,’ she replied, taking it.
‘I trust you didn’t labor too long over it.’
‘Not at all, but even if I had, making Christmas decorations is such an agreeable pastime that I would not mind doing it again.’
‘You’re too kind, Miss Amberley.’
She looked at him. ‘Sir Edmund, are you often taken ill like this?’
‘More often than I would wish.’
‘I’m very sorry.’
He smiled. ‘So am I, Miss Amberley, so am I.’ He glanced back toward the waiting carriage, where Lady Hetherington sat with her face still averted from the cottage, having witnessed nothing. ‘Good night again, Miss Amberley,’ he said.
‘Good night, Sir Edmund.’
She remained by the door as he retraced his steps to the gate and the waiting carriage. As he climbed in and closed the door, Richards urged the team forward again, and the carriage bowled across the road toward the armorial gates, which swung open as it approached. The lodgekeeper snatched off his hat as the carriage passed through and then vanished among the evergreen trees and shrubs that formed a screen to hide the park from the road. The drive curved away toward the big house, following a circuitous route that was intended to show off as much of the estate as possible.
Blanche listened until the sound of the carriage dwindled away into the night, and then she turned to lift the latch on the door, stepping inside to find Hannah waiting anxiously with the lighted candlestick.
‘You shouldn’t have dallied on the doorstep like that, Miss Blanche, not after what happened on the way home,’ the housekeeper said, putting the candlestick down on a little table on which stood a bowl of holly and ivy, and then coming to relieve Blanche of the crumpled wreath. ‘Whatever happened to this?’
Blanche explained. ‘I fear Sir Edmund isn’t at all well yet,’ she finished.
‘So it seems. Well, he’ll be even less well after a Christmas spent with that shecat, but that’s his problem.’
Blanche removed her cloak, shivering because the whitewashed hallway with its garlands of festive greenery wasn’t the warmest of places.
Hannah took the cloak. ‘I’ll warm some water for a bath, Miss Blanche, and I’ll put some nettle flower balm in it.’
‘There’s no need, Hannah,’ replied Blanche, putting her reticule and gloves down on the table next to the candlestick.
‘Come the morning you’ll be feeling quite bruised, my dear, so you must take a bath, and then an infusion of camomile before you go to bed.’
‘If you insist.’
‘I do.’ Hannah glanced toward the staircase which led steeply up to the floor above. ‘Shall you go up to your father now, Miss Blanche?’ she asked quietly.
Blanche hesitated, and then nodded, for the sooner she broached the subject of her love for Antony, the better for all concerned. ‘Yes, I’ll go now.’
‘I’d be lying if I wished you well, my dear, for I think this is a mismatch of the highest order. Antony Mortimer isn’t the man for you.’
‘We love each other.’
‘Or does he love his inheritance more? He’s gained his father’s permission, but if he hadn’t, I wonder if he would still be marrying you? Would he defy him?’
Blanche fell silent, for the point had struck a little too close to its target.
Hannah looked sadly at her. ‘You’re wasting yourself on him, my dear, for he simply isn’t worth it, and if on his account you quarrel with your father, or with Master Jonathan….’
‘I don’t wish to discuss it any further, Hannah,’ interrupted Blanche, rather more sharply than she’d intended.
Hannah drew back. ‘As you please, Miss Blanche,’ she said, turning and walking away to the kitchen.
Blanche looked unhappily after her. She didn’t want to quarrel with anyone, she only wanted everything to be good again, as it had been two years before, and as it could be again now.
Picking up her reticule and gloves, and the lighted candlestick, she gathered her beige skirts to go up to her father, to tell him about Antony. She put her things away in the drawer in her own room, and then went to her father’s door.
CHAPTER 6
Lionel Amberley’s bedroom was the largest one in the cottage, and, like Blanche’s own, was at the front, overlooking the village and the gates of Amberley Court. It was simply furnished, with dark wooden furniture and a plain four-poster bed that was hung with the same green-and-white chintz as the curtains at the window. Firelight flickered warmly over everything, adding to the soft glow from the candelabrum on the small table next to the bed, where Lionel had fallen asleep over a volume of Milton.
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br /> He was sixty years old, with a patrician face and aquiline nose, and wispy gray hair peeping from beneath a tasseled black silk skull cap. He wore a purple paisley dressing gown over his white nightshirt, and a crocheted shawl was around his narrow shoulders. There was a silver locket around his neck, containing a lock of his late wife’s hair, and in sleep his hand rested upon it. He’d married late in life, and had adored his young bride, Blanche’s mother. Her death had broken his heart, and there had never been anyone else to replace her, even though as a wealthy, personable widower, he’d been much pursued until the events of two years before.
Blanche went to the fireplace, poking the fire a little and then placing a fresh log on the glowing embers. Fledgling flames licked around the log, sending smoke and sparks flying up the chimney to the dark, snow-laden sky above. The flames took hold, and the fire began to crackle loudly in the quiet.
Her father stirred, his brown eyes opening, and his head turned immediately toward her. ‘Ah, you’re safely home again,’ he murmured, holding out his hand to her.
She went to him, her fingers curling in his as she sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Safely home in the end,’ she said, smiling.
‘In the end?’
She explained about the incident in the lane, when the trap had almost been run down by Sir Edmund’s carriage. ‘Both sides were at fault,’ she finished, ‘for the carriage was traveling by far too quickly, and we should have carried a lamp.’
‘I must see to it that Jake has the wherewithal to purchase one the next time he’s in Gloucester, for I’m sure we can find the necessary sum.’ He studied her. ‘So, you’ve made Sir Edmund’s acquaintance again.’
‘And I’ve spoken to his bride-to-be.’
‘So the whispers were correct, he is to be married?’
‘It would appear so.’
Her father smiled wryly. ‘From which tone I take it that you do not care for the lady?’
A Christmas Courtship Page 5