by Anne Ashley
He certainly never appeared particularly interested in pursuing any masculine outdoor activities, and seemed quite content to accompany his mother wherever she wished to go: social events in the evenings; about the town during the day to visit her friends. Not surprisingly they were regular visitors to Lord Exmouth's home, and it didn't take Robina very long to notice that their arrival at the house usually signalled Daniel's immediate departure from it.
Consequently she began to see far less of him. Lady Phelps's frequent calls were by no means solely responsible for this. July's arrival had brought a further influx of visitors to the town, which included good friends of Robina's from Northamptonshire, Olivia Roade Burton and her recently married sister Beatrice and her new husband, the very charming Lord Ravensden. Her visits to the Ravensden household, and her growing friendship with Frederick Ainsley who, unlike Lord Phelps, was fond of fresh air and regular exercise, ensured that Robina was frequently away from the house too.
Daniel's very good friend Montague Merrell also arrived in town, and quite naturally Daniel was keen to spend time with him, pursuing wholly masculine interests. Understandably enough, he did not always make himself available to squire Robina and his mother out in the evenings. This in itself caused no particular problems, except that Robina did miss him, a circumstance that she was not prepared to admit to until she was forced to do precisely that, when Daniel, one morning over breakfast, unexpectedly announced his intention of moving in temporarily with his friend Mr Merrell.
'For heavens' sake why, Daniel?' the Dowager responded, voicing Robina's particular thoughts very succinctly.
'It may have slipped your memory, Mama, but your grandchildren are due to arrive today.'
'Well? What of it? We've room enough to house them very comfortably. There's absolutely no need for you to move out.'
'Perhaps not,' he conceded, glancing at Robina, who was staring fixedly at the letter she had been reading, and had placed neatly beside her plate, 'but it would make things a deal more comfortable for you all if I do. Added to which, I flatly refuse to house Miss Halliwell in one of the attic rooms. She has been a constant comfort and support to the girls since their mother's death, and I will not have her treated like a servant. Hannah and Lizzie can share my room, and Miss Halliwell can occupy the one next door.'
Evidently the Dowager fully appreciated the kind consideration he was displaying towards his daughters' governess, and after a moment's deliberation she nodded in agreement.
'Good. That's settled then,' he responded, considering the matter now closed, and turned to Robina, who remained thoughtfully staring down at the letter by her plate. 'You're very quiet this morning, child. I trust your mother's missive brought no bad news?'
'W-what...? Oh, no. Not at all. Just a little local gossip. My family are eagerly awaiting the arrival of my cousin. She may already have arrived by now, of course.'
Robina forced herself to look at him, hoping the acute disappointment she was experiencing at his imminent removal from the house did not show in her face. 'You may remember I told you that Mama offered Cousin Deborah a home after her mama, my aunt Frances, passed away last year. I dare swear the vicarage will never be quite the same again once she takes up residence there. Darling Deborah has an unfortunate tendency to be—how shall I put it?— slightly accident-prone on occasions.' She glanced briefly at the letter once again. 'But apart from that, Mama only writes briefly that no one has been charged with Sywell's murder as yet.'
'It may well turn out to be one of those cases that never does get solved,' Daniel suggested, after a moment's thought. 'Although, from what Merrell was telling me t'other day, Prinny seems keen to have the thing cleared up.'
Lady Exmouth frowned at this. 'Why is that, do you suppose? Sywell was never a close friend of the Regent's, surely?'
'From what I can glean, the Marquis wasn't anybody's friend,' Daniel returned, his dry sense of humour coming to the fore. 'No, that isn't it. It's simply that Prinny ain't too happy when he discovers that a member of the peerage has been—er—bumped off. There's been enough of that going on in recent years across the Channel. Our future king don't want anything of that sort starting here, and I can't say I blame him. Can't have gangs of revolutionaries going about bumping off our aristos, now can we? It might be my turn next!'
'I am the only person likely to murder you, my boy, for deserting me in this fashion!' his mother retorted. 'Thank goodness I still have dear Robina to bear me company. I'm seriously considering persuading her to return with me to Bath, after the summer, to be my constant companion. She, I am persuaded, would never desert me!'
'If you are not very careful, Mama,' Daniel warned, his smile slowly fading, and his gaze unusually intense, 'you might succeed in persuading her to do just that.'
As Daniel's time was taken up with organising the removal of some of his more personal belongings to take with him to his temporary lodgings, Robina had of necessity to forgo her lesson in the curricle that morning. She remained in the house with the Dowager, receiving the steady stream of morning callers, a regular feature of the past few days, but after luncheon was determined to go out for a breath of fresh air, and was delighted when Mr Frederick Ainsley arrived on the doorstep just as she was about to set forth, and offered to accompany her.
Only just of average height and, with the possible exception of a pair of clear, intelligent grey eyes, having no looks worthy of note, Mr Ainsley might not have been to every female's taste. Unlike Lord Simon Phelps, who gained attention wherever he went, Mr Ainsley could attend a party of an evening and most other guests present might never recall his being there, and yet Robina much preferred his company to the handsome young Earl's.
His many wonderful qualities, Robina considered, more than compensated for any lack of striking physical attributes. He was very much the gentleman, both courteous and attentive. He was intelligent too, and a most interesting conversationalist, unlike Lord Phelps who seemed to drift off at a moment's notice into a world of his own, leaving Robina with the distinct impression that he had not heard a single word that she had said.
Robina found that time always passed remarkably quickly whenever she was with Mr Ainsley. This occasion proved no exception, and she arrived back at the house rather later than she had intended to discover the butler in the process of organising the swift removal of the variety of baggage which littered the hall. Therefore she wasted no time in going up to her room to remove her bonnet, and tidy her hair, and then went straight down to the front parlour to discover, as expected, Daniel's daughters sitting with their grandmother on the sofa, and a female in a plain grey gown seated nearby in one of the comfortable chairs.
Daniel himself was also present. He rose to his feet the instant she entered the room, and greeted her with, 'Ha! So the wanderer returns at last,' which might well have been meant as criticism. If it was he tempered it with a welcoming smile, and a raised hand beckoning her forward.
'Miss Perceval, permit me to present my daughters, Hannah and Elizabeth.'
Although she and her three sisters might differ slightly in looks, there could be no mistaking their close relationship. The same could not be said for the two girls who now stood before her, executing curtseys with differing skills. Hannah, with her dark hair and soft brown eyes, certainly favoured her father in looks; whereas Lizzie, Robina suspected, was bidding fair to becoming the image of her lovely mother, having a pair of limpid blue eyes and a riot of bright guinea-gold curls.
She swiftly discovered that they were vastly different in temperament too. Hannah, seeming older than her twelve years, was quiet and refined; whereas Lizzie, it quickly became apparent, possessed all the boundless energy of a nine-year-old child, wanting always to be on the move. Her father, however, managed to persuade her with very little difficulty to sit quietly beside her grandmother once again, while he introduced Miss Halliwell.
Robina's experience of governesses was limited. Private tutors were luxuries her parents co
uld ill afford, and she and her sisters had received their education at the vicarage from their parents, both of whom were highly intelligent and well read. There had been one or two governesses residing in the locale over the years, and of course her good friend Lady Sophia Cleeve had received private tuition from several different females during her formative years, all of whom, as far as Robina could remember, had been cast in a similar mould: gaunt, bespectacled and middle-aged. Miss Halliwell certainly did not conform to this stereotype, for she was, Robina judged, only in her mid to late twenties, and was very attractive, with a slim, shapely figure.
'Before you joined us,' Daniel said, once again seating himself after Robina had done so, 'we were discussing what we could do tomorrow to entertain the girls. Have you any ideas?'
'Well, if the weather remains fine,' she responded, after giving the matter a moment's thought, 'and it shows every possible sign of doing so, we might go into the country somewhere and have a picnic.'
The suggestion gained immediate approval from both girls, and Hannah in particular, who was keen to take her sketching pad to record the local scenery.
'That's settled then,' her father said indulgently. 'All that remains is for us to decide precisely where we are to enjoy this alfresco luncheon. Any thoughts on that score, Miss Perceval?'
Robina felt certain that her cheeks were growing quite pink with the warmth of the smile he cast her, and she could only hope that the added bloom might be deemed to be the quite natural outcome of her recent walk in the fresh air.
'There is that very pretty wooded area we passed when you took me into the country for my very first lesson in the curricle. It is situated very near where they hold the horse fairs,' she explained when he frowned in puzzlement. 'I seem to remember you said there was a ruined priory somewhere nearby, which I should imagine would make an ideal subject for sketching.'
'Ha, yes! I know where you mean. There were always several pairs of swans on the river there, as I recall.' She received a further warm smile of approval. 'Clever girl that you are, Miss Perceval, you have come up with the ideal spot—sufficient shade for Mama if it becomes too warm, and a wood for the more energetic amongst us to explore.'
'Have you been teaching Miss Perceval to tool your curricle, Papa?' Hannah enquired, resembling her father more closely still when she frowned. 'I cannot recall your ever teaching Mama.'
'Your mama never betrayed the least interest to learn, unlike Miss Perceval who continually astounds me by betraying a surprising interest in a wide range of things.'
'Will you teach me, Papa?' Lizzie asked, wide-eyed and eager.
'Perhaps. When you're a little older. And providing you can learn to sit still for more than two minutes at a time,' he teased gently, rising to his feet as the tea-tray arrived in the room. 'In the meantime, we shall leave your grandmama to enjoy her refreshments in peace, while we go out and enjoy ices and lemonade.'
'Am I right in supposing that you herald from this part of the country, Miss Halliwell?' the Dowager remarked, after her son and granddaughters had left the room.
'Yes, that is correct, my lady,' she responded in a well-spoken voice.
'I seem to recall, too, your mentioning that you still have relatives residing hereabouts.'
'Yes, my lady. My brother and his family. My brother teaches in a school situated about five miles from Brighton.'
'In that case, my dear, why not take the opportunity whilst you're here of paying them a visit. In fact, why not spend the entire day with them tomorrow?' she suggested. 'My son would not object, I'm sure, to your making use of the chaise. We can easily manage with the travelling carriage. And I shall not be at all surprised if Exmouth decides to drive himself in the curricle.'
It was quite obvious by the sudden expression of delight that Miss Halliwell wished to accept the kind offer, and equally obvious that she was not one to neglect her duties when she said, 'But surely you will wish me to accompany you tomorrow in order to take care of the girls?'
'I'm certain that we can manage quite well. Miss Perceval has three younger sisters, and is quite accustomed to keeping young ladies entertained. So, we'll take it as settled.'
The Dowager smiled at Robina, as she requested her to pour out the tea, and then turned back to the governess. 'By the by, my dear, you and Miss Perceval have more in common than your ability to keep a watchful eye on young girls. Like yourself, Miss Perceval is the daughter of a clergyman.'
The conversation quite understandably turned to the busy and pleasant life to be had in a country vicarage. It transpired that Miss Halliwell had lost her mother some years before, and had been expected at a young age to take upon herself the duties of managing the household. When her elder brother had left the family home in order to pursue his chosen career as a teacher, she had remained with her father, until his demise four years ago, when the living had quickly been offered to another and she had found herself without a roof over her head. She had chosen to enter the same profession as her brother, and had been fortunate enough to find employment within a very short space of time in the Exmouth household.
After listening to this brief history of Miss Halliwell's life, Robina began to realise fully, for perhaps the first time, just how much she had taken for granted over the years, and how privileged her own life had been compared to that of the vast majority of clergymen's offspring. Unlike the late Mr Halliwell, her own father had been able to afford the luxury of employing servants to attend to the heavier household chores. She had not been asked to clean and cook, or lay fires. Nor had she been expected to grow an ample supply of vegetables in order to save a little money, as Miss Halliwell had been forced to do.
Furthermore, how many clergymen's daughters could boast to having enjoyed a Season in London? How many had found themselves sitting in a titled gentleman's parlour, dispensing cups of tea, as though they were mistress of the house and had every right to do so, just as she was doing now?
She had adapted so easily to this privileged way of life that she might have been born to it, which of course she had not. For the past few months, she told herself, she had been enjoying a fairytale existence, and it was high time she ceased her foolish dreaming and faced reality. If she returned to Abbot Quincey without receiving any further offers for her hand, she might well find herself having to seek some genteel employment in the not too distant future. After all, she could not expect her parents to support her indefinitely, and life as a governess might one day loom large on her own horizon. Miss Halliwell, it had to be said, seemed very contented with her lot. But how many governesses were lucky enough to find employment in the home of such a kind and considerate gentleman as Lord Exmouth? Precious few, Robina suspected.
Chapter Six
It was a merry little group which gathered in the hall late the following morning. Miss Halliwell had departed an hour or so earlier, with Lord Exmouth's full approval, to spend the day with her brother and his family. Robina, who had already managed to win the new visitors' stamp of approval, most especially Lizzie's, who was beginning to think that in Miss Perceval she might have found something of a kindred spirit, was successfully keeping the girls in a high state of amusement by recounting yet another of her less than commendable childhood exploits, when the front door opened and Daniel entered the house. To the little gathering's surprise he was swiftly followed by the ample form of Sir Percy Lovell, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and sporting a garish yellow-and-green striped waistcoat, with a preposterously large nosegay tucked in his lapel.
'Great heavens!' her ladyship exclaimed, her gaze alternating between flowers and waistcoat. 'What in the world brings you here, Percy? Surely you're not to make up one of the party?'
'Most certainly am,' he assured her. 'When I ran across Exmouth last night, and he mentioned he was off on a jaunt into the country, I decided I wasn't prepared to miss out on the treat if I could help it, and so I invited myself.'
It was quite apparent that neither Hannah nor Lizzie, who j
oyfully greeted him, objected to his company. Sir Percy, beaming like some highly indulgent great-uncle, promptly presented Hannah with the nosegay, telling her that she was turning into a devilishly pretty gel, before informing Lizzie that she was a naughty little puss who ought to be kept on leading-strings, which only succeeded in making her chuckle and dance about him all the more.
'You are an appalling influence, Percy,' Lady Exmouth informed him, before casting a playfully accusing glance in quite another person's direction. 'But you are by no means the only one.'
Daniel, having instructed the footman to place a clean rug in his curricle, turned in time to overhear these latter remarks. 'Is that so!' he announced, slanting a look of mock severity directly upon the miscreant.
The only response forthcoming was a wickedly provocative blue-eyed glance which instantly produced a smile of such loving tenderness to transform his lordship's features that Sir Percy, blinking several times, stood transfixed.
The full import of what he was witnessing quickly permeated his brain. He was very well aware of course of precisely where his good friend the Dowager considered her son's future lay or, to be more precise, with whom. Nonetheless up until that moment he had not fully appreciated just how successful she had been in her endeavours. He glanced in her direction for confirmation, only to discover her making a great play of searching through her reticule, an unmistakable smile of satisfaction tugging at the corners of her own mouth.
'By Jove! Yes—er—well. Shall we be on our way?' he suggested, turning to lead the way outside.
Quite understandably both the girls had wished to travel in the curricle with their father. He was in the process of offering them a helping hand to scramble up on to the seat, when a lone horseman, trotting down the street in their direction, happened to catch his attention.