* * * *
Mr Atkins was announced just as Jane came back downstairs, formally dressed for dinner. In her favourite pale mauves and dove greys, today she looked charmingly pretty, and also very young. Indeed, with her soft, fair hair brushed back from her brow, then teased forward in separate strands to frame her face with silken tendrils, she looked no more than twenty five at most. Rayner would have been taken for her senior any day.
A tall, fair–haired, thick–set gentleman with disconcertingly light, almost colourless eyes which were themselves set off by very blond lashes and brows, Mr Atkins was well–dressed, well–groomed, and very expensively shod. His linen was immaculate, his cheeks beautifully shaven, and he wore a set of mourning rings on his fob.
‘My dear Mr Atkins,’ cried Mr Lloyd, shaking him by the hand and drawing him into the room. ‘I rejoice to see you look so well. Now, then. May I presents my guests? Here is Miss Darrow, and this is her brother Mr Rayner Darrow, from Warwickshire.’
‘Warwickshire?’ For one split second, Michael Atkins looked as if he had seen a ghost. His brow contracted, the pupils of his eyes dilated, and his pale face grew even paler still.
But then, he recovered. He shook Rayner by the hand, bowed politely to Jane, and asked how each of them did. Jane and her brother responded in kind.
Mr Lloyd excused himself then, to enquire after the progress of dinner and supervise the drawing of corks. As Jane spread her skirts on the sofa, Mr Atkins sat down in a wing chair. ‘I once heard of another family by the name of Darrow,’ he began, evenly. ‘They lived near the village of Easton, also in Warwickshire.’
‘We are one and the same!’ Complacently, Rayner smiled. Gratified indeed to learn that his family name and fame had spread so far, he was curious to know how Mr Atkins had chanced upon it. ‘How did you hear of us?’ he enquired, eagerly.
‘I cannot now recall.’ Blandly, Mr Atkins smiled. ‘I heard Mr Lloyd speak of you, perhaps? Yes. That must be it. Your parents and he are friends. Is that not so?’
‘They were friends.’ Rayner sighed. ‘My mother and father died within a twelvemonth of each other, a year or so since.’
‘I'm very sorry to hear it.’ Michael Atkins looked at Jane. ‘Miss Darrow, a loss such as that must have been a dreadful one for you to bear.’
‘It was indeed, sir.’ Looking down at her hands, Jane bit her lip. The tears came into her eyes, and she found herself unable to say more.
But then, Mr Lloyd appeared again. Soon, he was followed by a very smart footman, who announced that dinner would now be served.
* * * *
If Rayner and Jane had expected the two older men to talk of business, and exclude them from all but the most perfunctory conversation, they soon found their fears were unfounded. Mr Atkins was well–travelled, he had read widely, and he had formed opinions on almost everything. But these opinions were just, and eloquently expressed, and all in all he seemed a very sensible man.
He took particular pains to draw Jane into the conversation. Learning that she took an active part in the management of the family's business affairs, he spoke to her about the current state of trade. Then, he discussed agriculture with Rayner. Finally, he asked both brother and sister a great many questions about the Easton estate.
Always eager to boast of his great consequence and social standing, Rayner answered Mr Atkins's polite enquiries perfectly readily. ‘Do you know Warwickshire, sir?’ he asked then, for Mr Atkins had smiled and nodded with great interest as Rayner bragged of the beauty of his parkland, the elegance of his house, and the extent of his rolling acres. ‘Do you have connections there yourself?’
‘No. None.’ Mr Atkins dabbed his lips with a napkin. ‘But you see — I love to wander. In recent years, I have travelled extensively, all over the British Isles.
‘I have passed through Warwick itself many times. It seems a pleasant spot.’
‘It is indeed.’ Rayner beamed. ‘Well, sir! Should you ever have occasion to pass that way again, be certain to call upon me. Your welcome will be most hearty, of that you may be sure.’
* * * *
The desserts were cleared away. The heavy silver plate was removed, and the cloth dusted free of crumbs. But as Jane rose, to leave the gentlemen to their port, Mr Atkins frowned. Indeed, he seemed most reluctant to see her go. Turning to Mr Lloyd, he hinted that perhaps such strict adherence to etiquette was not really de rigueur this afternoon? Not among such good friends?
‘Of course not.’ To Rayner's distress, Evan Lloyd waved the decanter and glasses aside. ‘Well then, Mr Atkins. Will you take tea or coffee today?’
But Michael Atkins did not hear him. He was too busy paying attention to something Rayner had to say.
So, the tea things were brought in. Although she was a visitor to the house, it seemed only natural that Jane should take command of the china and kettles. Now, she did the honours as if to the manner born.
‘Will you take sugar, Mr Atkins?’ she enquired. ‘Cream?’
‘Thank you.’ Mr Atkins accepted his cup with a reverence more fitting to the receiving of the divine wafer. Meeting Jane's pretty blue eyes, his own glowed.
Jane smiled.
Rayner grinned.
Mr Lloyd harrumphed and searched for his yellow handkerchief, snorting like a catarrhal dragon the while. Taking a flask of brandy from his waistcoat pocket, he poured a generous measure into his cup.
By the time the afternoon drew towards evening, the manufacturer and his guests were mellow and relaxed, and inclined to be the greatest of friends.
In spite of living in the heartland of industrial South Wales, Mr Lloyd had contrived to make an attractive garden in which to take a breath of air and a little exercise on a fine summer's day. Extending for an acre or so all around his house, this garden was surrounded by windbreaks of trees, which also muted the noise of industry from the works, and filtered the smog–laden air. So, after drinking their tea, the party took a turn through Mr Lloyd's shrubberies and parterres.
‘You must find the landscape somewhat bleak here, in South Wales. After the luxuriance of Warwickshire, I mean.’ Smiling, Mr Atkins looked from Rayner, then to his sister, and then to their host, before finally letting his glance rest enquiringly on Jane. ‘Here, the grass is grey–green. The trees are sooty, and the air full of dancing smuts — which can do nothing for your complexion. Or for your gown.’
‘No, indeed.’ Blushing in spite of herself, Jane met Mr Atkins's candid eye. ‘But,’ she murmured, ‘Mr Lloyd has made quite a little Eden here! In spite of the difficulties of cultivation and care, which he must encounter at every turn.’
‘He has certainly done his best.’ Touching Jane's sleeve, Mr Atkins directed her glance away from himself. ‘If you look to your left, you will observe he has even enticed the birds of the air to this pretty spot. Tell me, Miss Darrow. Is that a wren? Or a martin?’
‘I suppose it must be a martin. Or maybe a sparrow. Do you not think it a little too large for a jenny wren?’
‘I defer to your judgement. Your young eyes must certainly be better than mine.’ Sighing, Mr Atkins shook his greying head. ‘How pleasant it must be,’ he cried, ‘to have all one's faculties still intact! How delightful, to feel one's senses are still sharp and keen!’
Jane glanced back towards him. This man was certainly middle–aged. But he was still handsome! Still vigorous, still upright, still sensible and strong. There was no need for him to bewail deteriorating eyesight, or dwindling energy! If anyone could be said to be in the prime of life, Mr Atkins must be he.
* * * *
As Jane strolled about the garden, listening with growing complacency to Mr Atkins's remarks and observations, her brother sat in the shade of a flowering cherry, idly talking to his host. ‘Have you and Mr Atkins known each other long?’ enquired Rayner, as Mr Lloyd nodded in the warmth of the late afternoon.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Mr Lloyd shook his head. ‘My dear sir, do forgive me. Did you ment
ion Mr Atkins?’
‘I asked, if you had known him long?’
‘Let me think.’ Mr Lloyd frowned. ‘I have known of him these ten years or more,’ he replied. ‘We have been intimate for at least two. Or even three.’
‘He seems a very amiable gentleman.’
‘He is indeed.’ Mr Lloyd nodded his agreement. ‘He is a philanthropist and benefactor to all. He has provided much–needed employment in the valley here, and he has also built a school for the children of local labouring men.’
‘So he is well respected hereabouts?’
‘Well respected indeed. Well liked, too.’ Mr Lloyd grinned. ‘He seems to be much taken with your sister.’
‘I wish he might be.’ Rayner sighed. ‘My sister has suffered greatly of late. As well as losing both her parents, she has been ill–used by the most rascally, beggarly wretch — but I will not elaborate. Suffice it to say, I should be very happy to see her settled. To know she was loved and esteemed by a good and generous man, such as your friend Mr Atkins seems to be.’
* * * *
Mr Atkins did not finally take his leave until it was almost supper time. Indeed, Mr Lloyd pressed him to stay and take that meal with them, too.
But the visitor said this was out of his power. He must get back. As his hat and gloves were brought in, he shook Rayner's hand again — but this time he took Jane's, too. ‘My dear Miss Darrow,’ he murmured, compressing her small fingers in his much larger paw, ‘my dear young lady, I need not tell you how great a pleasure this afternoon has been for me. This truth must be self–evident! I hope we may meet again soon.’
He turned to Rayner. ‘It is plain that, just recently, your sister has endured much suffering and distress. So, you will forgive me for observing that while it has been a privilege to meet you both, it has been more than a privilege to see her smile.’
Jane blushed. ‘I have not passed so delightful an afternoon for a very long time,’ she told Mr Lloyd.
Michael Atkins smiled. He took up his hat. ‘My house here in Monmouthshire,’ he began, ‘is somewhat higher up the mountainside than Mr Lloyd's. Consequently, the air is clearer. Pure enough, in fact, to allow us to keep a little farm.
‘Perhaps, Mr Darrow, you and your sister would like to see it? We have lambs, one or two foals, and kittens aplenty just now. My spaniel bitch has recently produced a very fine litter. If Miss Darrow would be so gracious as to inspect — ’
Jane's blush deepened most attractively.
‘Thank you. My sister and I would be delighted. Shall we say about eleven, tomorrow?’ Rayner grinned. He was inclined to like Michael Atkins tremendously. Anyone who could make his sister smile must be his friend, and the man who could make her blush with pleasure must be a very extraordinary fellow indeed.
Chapter 15
The drive up the valley was very pleasant. Provided one looked in the right direction, of course. For, on the one hand, there was desecration aplenty. Mine–workings, surface scourings and haphazard excavations defaced some of the most beautiful countryside imaginable, befouling the fair face of nature with the pits and scars of industry.
But if a man turned his eyes away from all this mess and squalor, he could gaze upon soft green pastureland and rolling hills, rising to rocky outcrops and clumps of wind– stunted thorn. These in turn were overshadowed by high, grey mountains, which made the scene laid out before brother and sister truly picturesque.
As their carriage bowled on to the gravel sweep lying before a rambling, lime–washed farmstead, Mr Atkins himself appeared at the door. Hatless, he was still in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, and these, together with his old–fashioned corduroy breeches and well–buffed but ancient leather boots, ensured he looked every inch the bluff, honest, country gentleman.
‘Well, Miss Darrow!’ he exclaimed, handing Jane out of the little pony carriage which Mr Lloyd had lent them — for their own barouche was far too wide to squeeze along those narrow country lanes, without getting its varnish absolutely scratched to pieces — ‘you come betimes! Mr Darrow, a very good morning to you. Does not your sister look radiant? She's bright as the summer day. Fresh as the dew on the roses themselves.’
Jane blushed from her neck to her cap. But she was not displeased by such an effusive reception. Not at all...
Entering the farmhouse, the visitors were offered cake and wine, then invited to tour the farm. ‘You shall go dry–shod,’ promised the considerate Mr Atkins. ‘I have had the fellows lay straw along all the paths where we shall tread.’
In the stable yard, Rayner and Jane met orphan lambs which by now had become quite tame, and were almost household pets. There was a new foal to admire, and also a soft–eyed Jersey cow with one crumpled horn, who daintily picked her way across the cobbles to take a closer look at the cornflowers on Jane's best bonnet.
A liver–spotted spaniel bitch, the proud mother of five fine puppies, came to rub her damp nose against her master's hand. ‘Good girl,’ murmured Mr Atkins, caressing her muzzle. Smiling, he glanced towards Jane. ‘She wishes to introduce you to her family,’ he said.
Inspecting the litter, Jane's particular attention was drawn to an inquisitive, bright–eyed little scrap who was completely white, except for some dark splotches on its pretty face. ‘This young fellow is perfectly charming,’ she observed, smiling her indulgence as the puppy frisked and gambolled around her skirts. ‘Or is he perhaps a she?’
Mr Atkins scooped the little creature up. ‘This is Blanchette,’ he said. Then, he offered her to Jane — who now submitted to having her face licked all over, as she held the warm, roly–poly bundle against her heart.
‘Are you especially fond of dogs, Miss Darrow?’ enquired Mr Atkins, as he watched his guest have her bonnet knocked awry, and her cheeks and forehead spring–cleaned yet again.
‘Of some dogs,’ replied Jane, laughing as she dodged the over–zealous attentions of that busy, pink tongue. ‘I am nervous of bulldogs and mastiffs, to be sure. But Blanchette here is a delightful little thing.’
‘Then, do me the honour of accepting her,’ said her master, complacently.
Jane felt her cheeks glow. ‘But would she be happy to leave her mother?’ she murmured. Embarrassed, she was extremely gratified, too. ‘Is she quite ready — ’
‘Oh, I think so.’ Mr Atkins grinned. He glanced towards the barn. ‘See for yourself,’ he said.
So Jane looked, and saw. Reclining on a bale of dry straw, the spaniel bitch watched her children play. But if one strayed out of her sight, she displayed no particular concern or motherly anxiety. Her duty towards them was done.
As for Blanchette herself, she was busy nuzzling up to her newest friend, and snickering and whimpering so charmingly that Jane could not help but love her. ‘Well, Rayner?’ she demanded, turning to her brother. ‘Do you think I should take Blanchette away?’
‘I fear you must.’ Rayner smiled. ‘Indeed, you owe it to her and to your host. The creature obviously loves you — and as for Mr Atkins here, he would be most undeservedly, nay cruelly wounded, if you were to reject his gift!’
So, the party went on, Rayner taking great care where he stepped, and Jane carrying Blanchette, not caring where she trod at all.
They looked all over the model farm, then inspected the dairy. ‘Are you are a native of these parts, Mr Atkins?’ enquired Rayner politely, as they entered the new byre.
‘No, indeed,’ replied their host. ‘My family originally came from near Swansea, where my father was a farmer. I myself married a woman from the Vale.’
He sighed. ‘But I am a widower now, and have been for fifteen years or more. Of course, my parents are long since dead — and I, alas, was their only child.’
‘Have you no children of your own?’
‘I had a daughter. She died in infancy.’ Once more, Michael Atkins sighed. ‘But I hope to meet her again, by and by.’
‘I'm sure you will.’ Jane met his eyes. Pity made her own soft, and gently glowing. ‘I
'm certain of it, in fact.’
‘Thank you, Miss Darrow.’ Mr Atkins cleared his throat. ‘How long do you stay with Mr Lloyd?’ he asked her, changing the subject determinedly.
‘We had intended to leave today.’ Shaking her head, Jane smiled. ‘But our friend will not hear of it. He insists we keep him company for at least a week.’
‘I'm very glad to hear it.’ Michael Atkins smiled back at her. ‘You see, Mr Lloyd dines here this coming Wednesday. I look forward to seeing you and your brother at my table, too.’
* * * *
At their departure, Mr Atkins took Jane's hand. He held it for at least twenty seconds longer than was necessary.
As their carriage swayed off down the lane, Rayner caught his sister's eye. ‘I think you have made a conquest there,’ he observed.
Jane nuzzled Blanchette. ‘I think I shall love her just as dearly,’ she murmured, blushing furiously.
‘Don't deliberately misunderstand me.’ Rayner shook his head. ‘He seems a very pleasant fellow,’ he continued.
Jane's blush deepened. ‘He still mourns his wife,’ she said.
‘He recalls her with tenderness, I agree. He preserves all the affection and respect due to her memory. But I would guess that after fifteen years, he might be willing to be consoled.’
‘He might,’ agreed Jane.
‘Also, he's a rich man.’
‘My dear Rayner, he's a rich, old man.’
‘He's maybe twenty years your senior, to be sure. But he's hale and hearty, his teeth and colour are good, and his handclasp is strong. He is still an eminently marriageable gentleman.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘So there it is.’
‘No, Rayner!’ Jane frowned. ‘I will not have you marry me off to a stranger! To a fellow of two days’ acquaintance, of whom we know nothing at all.’
‘My dearest Jane! Of whom we know plenty! All of it good, as well.’ Shaking his head, Rayner grinned. ‘My dear sister! I wish I could have your dreams tonight.’
The Ash Grove Page 19