Again and Again

by Susan Johnson

  Tea arrived as Lady Jane was describing her two children in the glowing phrases of a doting mother. “You’ll meet the little darlings later,” she said with a teasing smile. “Hugh and Joanna are out riding with their father. Since it warmed up slightly today, Ian agreed to take them to the village for sticky buns. It’s not as though our cook can’t bake sticky buns, but you know how much better they taste when you’re away from home.”

  “I understand. My father and I would ride to our village for cream cakes,” Caroline said. The pleasure as a child is out of all proportion to the simple treat.“

  “Isn’t it just… although Ian and the children enjoy each other’s company most, I think.”

  “I know the feeling.” Caroline went silent, her childhood made perfect by a father who adored her, his loss like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

  “You said in your letter, your parents are gone.” Lady Jane’s tone was sympathetic.

  Caroline forced her thoughts to the present. “My mother died when I was very young so I don’t remember her well.” How often had she uttered that phrase; it never got easier. “My father has been gone five years now.”

  “I’m sorry. My parents too are no longer with me. I understand how difficult it can be.”

  Caroline smile was strained. “One must make do.”

  “Yes, of course.” Jane leaned over to pat Caroline’s hand. “The passage of time helps, I’ve found, and keeping busy is an additional antidote. Tell me of your life abroad,” she added, diplomatically changing the subject. “Your letter mentioned you’d been living in France.”

  “I was married to a French émigré. He died a few months ago.” Divorce was often perceived as scandalous. Caroline chose caution.

  “My condolences. Do you have other family?”

  Caroline shook her head, suddenly unable to speak as a great rush of loneliness washed over her.

  “How awful for you. Perhaps I could give you some of my eight brothers and sisters-please, I beg of you, take them,” Jane said with a grin. “They all live in the neighborhood and are constantly underfoot”

  Jane’s attempt at levity served its purpose and Caroline smiled. “I look forward to meeting them.”

  “You won’t be so gracious once you do. My sisters love to give orders and my brothers speak of nothing but their hunting dogs and horses.” She chuckled. “I’m afraid, it’s an instance of the pot calling the kettle black-but nevertheless, they are a trial on occasion. I’m the youngest, you see.”

  Caroline lifted her brows. “And always in need of their advice, they no doubt presume.”

  “So they contend.” Jane shrugged and smiled. “I have quite a different opinion, of course.”

  “It sounds as though you have a busy household. I look forward to the distractions.”

  “Good. Perhaps we can help ease your loneliness. As for your duties, you needn’t be apprehensive. I don’t expect my children to be serious students. Neither Ian nor I are bookish. Our interests are almost exclusively horses and hunting,” she added. “The countryside is perfect for coursing… and very beautiful.” Jane waved her hand in a deprecating gesture. “Not so much now as in the warmer months. Should you like to ride, we have a good stable. Feel free to take your pick of the mounts,” she offered.

  “Thank you. I do like to ride.” Caroline almost said, I used to hunt with the Beaufort Hunt.

  “We’ll see that you’re set up then. Do you have any requirements in terms of books and supplies for the schoolroom? I must say, your education is splendid-intimidating as a matter of fact; you speak six languages. How very impressive,” Jane said with a casual politesse; most of the aristocracy had little interest in education. “Your recommendation by the Duchesse of Montclair was impressive as well.”

  The duchesse was extremely kind. She’s a distant relative of my poor departed husband.“ Caroline inwardly cringed at her fabrications, but she needed privacy and hermitage right now-somewhere far from London and the ton where she could take stock of her options. And additionally, since Shipton, somewhere Simon couldn’t find her.

  “I have a feeling we’re going to muddle along famously,” Jane observed, brightly. “Please, have more cakes and jam. You’ve hardly eaten a thing. Let me freshen up your tea,” she declared, reaching for the teapot. “I can’t wait until Ian and the children meet you. They’re going to love you!”

  Chapter 6

  Several days later, in the early evening, a mud-spattered carriage arrived at Netherton Castle, and a tall, dark-haired man leaped down to the cobblestones and strode toward the same door that had intimidated Caroline on her arrival. He was glowering, his mouth was set in a grim line and if it had been possible for fire to actually spark in one’s eyes, he would have incontestably illustrated that principle.

  When Thornton greeted him in the cavernous entrance hall, the butler glanced at the man’s muddy boots, but knew better than to make mention of the muck he was leaving on the oriental carpet.

  His host, however, wasn’t so politic when the visitor entered his drawing room.

  “Good God, Simon, take off those filthy boots. Jane will have your head if you ruin her carpets.”

  A muted growl issued from Simon’s pursed lips, but he sat, pulled off his boots and handed them to Thornton who received them with relief, grateful the muddy trail from the entrance hall up the grand staircase, down the corridor to the drawing room had come to an end.

  “You look like you need a whiskey,” the Earl of Netherton said.

  Simon nodded and rose to his feet “It’s been a miserable few days.”

  “In what way, although from the look of you, I’m not sure I want to know. You look ready to do battle.”

  “Damned women,” Simon muttered, moving toward his host. They’re the bane of my existence.“

  Well aware of his friend’s reputation with the ladies, the earl’s concern lessened. “It’s nothing serious then.” He handed Simon his whiskey. “I stand relieved. I thought I might have to serve as second to you in some duel.” He turned to pour himself a drink.

  “What makes you think it’s not serious?”

  Ian Carlisle glanced over his shoulder, his brows arched in surprise. “You mean to tell me, it might be?”

  Simon didn’t immediately answer. He tipped the whiskey down his throat, handed the glass back, said, “Fill it up,” and blew out a breath so obviously of frustration, Ian’s concern returned. “It could be serious,” Simon murmured. “Under the right circumstances… Oh, hell, I don’t know if it is or not… It doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t find her.”

  Ian turned with their drinks and surveyed his friend’s less than impeccable attire. “You’ve been looking for some time apparently.”

  “For three days. She disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “No. She was gone from London when you and Jane first came down.” Ian and Simon had become friends at Waterloo. “Oh, bloody hell.” Simon lifted the glass to his mouth. “Screw it. Tell me about the hunting.”

  Dismissing women was more the norm than the exception with Simon. Back on familiar ground, Ian waved them into chairs near the fire and proceeded to describe the state of his coverts, deer herds, and hunting pack. By the time Jane came back with the book she’d gone in search of, the men were deep in a discussion of the next day’s hunt.

  After welcoming Simon, Jane saw to it that he had a dinner tray brought to him from the kitchen. They’d already dined, but she and Ian joined Simon for coffee. By the time Simon had eaten his way through several servings of roast beef, a variety of vegetables, fresh bread and honey, his mood had lightened. Ian and Jane were always the best of company, far removed from the brittle gossip of the ton, less interested in the scandal of the day than the weather and the state of their crops. Their peaceful existence, sensible view of the world, their obvious happiness were all reasons he accepted their invitations when he felt a need to escape the profligacy of his life.


  Pushing his plate away, Simon leaned back in his chair and surveyed his hosts with a faint smile. “I forget what contentment is until I come to Netherton.” He half lifted his hand. “Thank you for reminding me there’s a better life somewhere.”

  “You’re always welcome, Simon,” Jane pleasantly noted. “You needn’t wait for an invitation.”

  “When the lure of the bright lights wane…” Ian intoned facetiously.

  Simon shrugged. “I seem to be reaching that stage with greater frequency of late.”

  “You’re not getting any younger,” Ian waggishly reminded him.

  Simon’s dark brows rose. “Meaning?”

  “Marriage, of course. You might find you like it.”

  Simon smiled. “Jane’s already taken.”

  “You’ll always have an excuse, won’t you?” Her expression was sportive.

  “Probably.” Simon’s gaze turned introspective for a moment, then he grimaced. “In any event, the young ladies on the marriage mart are all insipid. I’d be bored in a week.”

  “That long?” Ian drawled.

  “I was being polite. I can scarce stand to talk to them.”

  Jane cast him an assessing glance. “What you need is a woman with backbone who can stand up to you.”

  “Maybe I do…” But she’d run away.

  “You need a challenge.”

  He was hard-pressed to beat back the lust that spiked through his senses at the thought of Caroline’s irrepressible ardor; that was challenge… just keeping up. “Wouldn’t that be nice,” he said half to himself.

  “Simon has recently misplaced a woman who appealed to him,” Ian explained, correctly interpreting Simon’s murmur.

  Jane’s eyes widened. “Misplaced?”

  “She ran away.”

  Astonished, Jane was hard-pressed to restrain a gasp. “She ran away from you?”

  Simon smiled faintly. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

  She grinned. “Long-delayed justice, perhaps.”

  “Don’t tease, darling. Simon’s heart and/or ego has been bruised.”

  Jane tipped her head, her gaze searching. “Which is it, Simon?”

  “It doesn’t really matter,” he said, softly. “She’s gone.”

  “Who’s for another drink?” Ian interposed, recognizing his friend’s discomfort, turning a warning glance on his wife. “I for one, am.”

  And the conversation turned to less emotion-wrought topics.

  Chapter 7

  Despite overcast skies, Simon and the Carlisles left early the next morning for the hunting field. A great deal of the snow from the recent storm had melted with the rising temperatures and now a hint of rain was in the air. They tramped the countryside with the dogs and gamekeepers all morning, bagging a brace of grouse and one small roebuck for their efforts. At noon, servants met them in the field with baskets of food for lunch and as the sun conveniently came out from behind the clouds, they dined al fresco on a rise overlooking the valley.

  The morning hunt had been invigorating, the brisk air and physical activity uplifting to mind and spirit. Simon felt refreshed and restored and he said as much to his hosts as they drank a fine claret and decided on the direction of their afternoon hunt.

  “You should think about buying a hunting lodge in the neighborhood,” Jane suggested. ‘Then you could escape the city whenever you wished.“

  Simon’s estates were close to London, occasionally much too close when unwanted guests appeared on his doorstep. “The distance from London is a distinct asset,” he murmured.

  Ian offered him a look of understanding. “You wouldn’t be bothered so often by Give and Bertie.”

  That in itself would be reason to buy. Did I tell you they came with a carriage full of-er… shall we say actresses when my sister was visiting last summer?“

  “At least Adele is understanding about your bachelor ways.” Simon’s sister and Jane were friends.

  “She wasn’t, however, overly pleased. It was two in the morning and they woke her children.”

  “You might like to look at Kettleston Hall.” Jane waved her hand westward. The viscount is rumored to be selling now that his father is dead. It’s his one property not entailed and he has gambling debts.“

  “Perhaps some other time.” Simon leaned back on his hands. “I’m in the mood to do absolutely nothing at the moment.”

  “Would you prefer we go back to the house?”

  “I didn’t mean hunting. I just meant in terms of my life.”

  Jane shot him a critical glance. “You’ve been doing nothing in terms of your life for a very long time.”

  “Don’t begin, Jane,” her husband warned. He smiled at Simon. “Every woman feels the need to match make and interfere.”

  Simon winked at his hostess. “Match make all you want, Jane. I’m immune.”

  At dusk they returned to the castle, pleasantly weary after a day of tramping over hill and dale.

  “I’d say a whiskey’s in order,” Ian declared. “My study is outside Jane’s housekeeping purview,” he added, “so we may track in mud to our heart’s content.”

  Turning back from ordering tea from Thornton, Jane smiled. “I allow him some small freedoms.”

  “Including a good supply of whiskey from the local stills,” Ian declared. “You’ll enjoy McDougal’s, Simon. He swears by the springs up near Doon.”

  Very soon, the men and Jane were enjoying McDougal’s whiskey, the warm glow of the fire, and a well-earned rest after a long day out on the moors. Simon was sprawled in a large wingback chair, his long legs stretched out before him, his whiskey glass resting on his chest. Ian and Jane were seated side by side on a settee, Ian’s arms around his wife’s shoulder, both their booted feet resting on a worn leather hassock.

  “I hope the children are coming down,” Simon said, thinking Ian a very lucky fellow to have found someone as restful and genial as Jane. “I haven’t seen them since spring.”

  “They should be here soon.” Jane looked up at her husband from under the curve of his arm. “Tell Simon how much Hugh has grown this summer. Was it four or five inches?”

  “Five,” Ian said. “And Joanna still wants to marry you, Simon, when she grows up,” he added with a grin. “She much admires the consequence of dukes.”

  Raising his glass to his mouth, Simon smiled. ‘There’s reason to wait then.“

  “As if you need added reason to wait,” Jane murmured, “when you’ve already waited… Ah, the children are here. Darlings, come in and make your bows.”

  Simon’s whiskey sloshed over the rim of his glass as he turned to the door and Caroline gasped as a slender, young boy with tousled, strawberry blond hair, shouted, “Simon!” and ran forward.

  The earl and countess exchanged glances.

  “You know each other?” Jane inquired, surveying her red-faced governess, then Simon who looked pale beneath his tan.

  “I met Lord Blair years ago,” Caroline quickly replied, terrified Simon might say something outrageous. “We-ah… lived in the same parish.”

  Brushing the wetness from his wool shirt, Simon sat up and set his glass aside. “I knew Lady Caroline’s father, the Earl of Doulton.”

  “An earl?” Jane’s feet dropped to the floor, her eyes wide.

  “If you’ll please excuse me,” Caroline whispered, her face bright pink. “I’ll return for the children when you call.”

  “No, stay!” Joanna tugged on Caroline’s hand. “Come have cakes with me!”

  “Some other time, darling.” Caroline tried frantically to disengage herself from the little girl’s grasp.

  Joanna’s grip tightened, her mouth turned down in a pout. “But I want you to make those fairy towers with the cakes and tell me the story about the princess who looks just like me!”

  “She thinks she’s a princess,” her brother scoffed, glancing at his mother who was still looking stunned.

  Joanna’s golden curls bobbed as she quickly swung arou
nd to confront her brother. “Am too a princess!”

  “Are not.”

  “Am too!!” She turned back to Caroline. ‘Tell him, Caro; tell him about the tower and the dragon and how I was saved-“

  “I’ll explain later when you don’t have company, darling.” Having freed herself from her young charge’s grasp, Caroline had begun to back away. “Go and drink your chocolate now. You know how you like chocolate with whipped cream clouds in it.”

  Joanna cast a quick glance at the tea table, making certain the whipped cream clouds were there. “Promise, you’ll tell him later?”

  “I promise.”

  Another swift glance and chocolate won over. Joanna skipped away.

  Caroline ran from the room, and raced down the hall as though all the fiends of hell were in pursuit. She didn’t care that her exit might have been precipitous; she didn’t care that her new employers might wonder at her discourtesy. She couldn’t possibly stay and face Simon.

  She didn’t dare.

  “Did you bring Black Templar with you? Did you, did you?” Hugh was hopping from foot to foot before Simon, his excitement visible. “If you did, may I ride him? May I, may I?”

  “He’s here and you may ride him if your parents allow.” Simon kept his voice calm with effort. His heart was beating like a drum; only sheer will kept him seated. Caroline was here in this very house- not in London… here!

  “Me too, me too! I want to ride Black Temper too!” Joanna screamed, always wanting what her brother wanted like little sisters everywhere.

  Reaching out, Simon lifted her into his lap, looked at Ian for approval and at his nod, said, “You may both ride him tomorrow.”

  The children’s squeals of delight were only equaled by Simon’s delight at having found the object of his pursuit.