‘Oh, I shall box your ears again in a moment,’ said Annabelle. ‘And I am not interested in the kitchens.’
‘Well, you should be,’ said Jonathan. ‘Prettiness alone ain’t going to be enough when you’re some gentleman’s wife. You’ll have to know how to run the household. Come along now.’
‘Oh, you wretched thing,’ said Annabelle, but Jonathan took her by the hand and she perforce went with him.
Caroline took Captain Burnside to the splendid library. He looked around in silence.
‘I am sorry if Great Wivenden does not impress you,’ she said.
‘I can’t recall saying so,’ murmured the captain.
‘Your silence, sir, is quite sufficient.’
‘My silence, marm, is a homage. What can be said about beauty and splendour that can’t be better expressed by reverential silence?’
‘Fiddlesticks,’ said Caroline.
‘Assure you, marm—’
‘If, sir, you still persist in calling me marm, I shall have Mr Forbes and two gardeners lock you in the estate stocks and throw bad eggs at you. I shall throw some myself. I am Caroline, and you shall call me so. What must my sister think that you don’t?’
‘Faith, I ain’t supposing Annabelle gives it any thought.’
‘Oh, yes, Annabelle …’ Caroline took her bonnet off and let the light fire her hair. ‘See what you have done for her. She rarely mentions Cumberland now. I declare myself entirely satisfied with your accomplishment, and the moment we return to London you shall be paid all you have earned.’
Captain Burnside grimaced. ‘It ain’t a pressing matter,’ he said.
‘It must be very pressing to a penniless man,’ said Caroline firmly, watching him as he inspected the spines of several weighty-looking tomes. She moved closer to him. ‘Are you distressingly penniless?’
‘Marm—’
‘Do you wish me to strike you, sir?’
‘Caroline—’
‘There, that did not hurt, did it? You should not be so proud.’
‘It ain’t pride,’ said the captain, keeping his eyes off her, ‘it’s principles.’
‘I won’t allow them,’ said Caroline.
‘Them?’
‘Principles. Not your kind. They are a ridiculous nonsense.’
‘No, they ain’t, they’re necessary,’ said the captain, examining titles, his top hat in his hand. He found it better not to look at her.
‘I should hope, sir, that our friendship is not to suffer the continual pinpricks of your tendency always to argue with me.’
‘God forgive me if I ever do. It ain’t the thing at all, arguing with a patron. It’s a principle of mine not to, nor to be familiar.’
‘Why, you deplorable villain,’ said Caroline, ‘you have subjected me to a hundred familiarities.’
Captain Burnside coughed. ‘Only, you might say, in the exercise of my accepted role,’ he said. ‘Heaven forbid, Your Ladyship, that I should ever, in normal and conventional circumstances, offend you with even the smallest familiarities.’
Delight danced in her eyes. Oh, was there any more adorable man? All his sins were insignificant compared with Clarence’s heinous aberrations. They were all forgivable. Oh, that he might turn over a new leaf and give up all scheming and philandering.
‘I forgive you your absurd principles,’ she said. ‘I am a sweet-natured woman, as you have no doubt noticed. In my sweetness, and in my gratitude for what you have done, I am utterly determined to help you, despite yourself.’
‘Oh, ye angels,’ sighed the captain.
‘What was that, sir?’
‘Ah, a passing comment of no significance.’
‘Caroline.’
‘A passing comment of no significance, Caroline,’ he said, and her eyes swam with laughter and love.
‘There, we have come to sincere friendship, though I fear it may still be some time before I can cure you of your provoking moments. Tell me truthfully, do you like Great Wivenden?’
‘One can’t merely like such an estate, one can only stand in silence and worship,’ observed the captain, who had still not taken his eyes off the library shelves.
‘Worship?’ enquired Caroline.
‘I’ve a romantic nature, Your Ladyship …’
‘Romantic? Can it be true of a deceiver of innocents?’
‘Oh, I am touched and affected by beauty, Caroline.’
‘Well, I declare,’ said Caroline, vastly amused.
‘Merely to like is to be a Philistine. What man owning any kind of discrimination could merely like the magnificent Alps, the English Lakes, a purple sunset or a beautiful woman?’
‘I have never heard of any man worshipping a purple sunset,’ said Caroline. ‘A beautiful woman, yes, he might worship her. How many have you worshipped recently?’
‘Recently,’ he said, ‘I’ve had pressing business to attend to.’
‘Yes, mostly my business. And thank you, Captain Burnside, for attending to it so efficiently. But that, of course, is the last of any such business. I am glad you agree on that.’
‘I don’t recall—’
‘Please don’t interrupt, or I shall lose my way. Now, you have formally met my steward, Mr John Forbes. He is one of England’s sturdiest and finest yeomen, and I am sure you cannot help but like him. That will make things very pleasant for you, liking him, and I am convinced your many talents will stand you in good stead as his assistant.’
‘Oh, the Lord Harry,’ sighed Captain Burnside, ‘and have you also determined which of your rosy-cheeked dairymaids I’m to marry?’
‘Marry? A dairymaid? Don’t be absurd. Really, whatever put such a foolish idea into your mind?’ Caroline, wholly aware of his refusal to look at her, or even glance at her, felt the moment could not be more delicious. ‘When we return to London, please favour me by winding up any little dubious business affairs you may have on hand. I shall be happy to reimburse you for any losses this might incur. You will need funds in order to equip yourself with suitable country clothes. Silk cravats and pearl-buttoned waistcoats won’t do at all. I shall be here most of the time to give you advice and encouragement.’
‘Oh, ye gods,’ said Captain Burnside.
‘Was that another comment of no significance, sir?’
‘It was a cry for help.’
‘But as I have just said, I shall give you help in the way of advice and encouragement. Because I know you have many good points, I shall spare no effort in assisting you to become an honest and industrious citizen of our lovely England. I have decided to take up residence here, at Great Wivenden, and visit my house in London only occasionally. So if becoming honest and industrious presents difficult moments for you at times, I shall be here for you to turn to, and I shall never be less than sympathetic.’
Oh, his expression. It was one of utter helplessness. Caroline hugged her exultation.
‘Your Most Gracious Ladyship—’
‘Please don’t thank me,’ she said. ‘I could not do less for you when you have done so much for me. Why, with your abilities, I can envisage you stepping into my steward’s shoes when he retires in a few years. I vow my faith in you is all it could be.’
‘Beg to point out—’
‘Also, I have decided I must marry again.’ In her exultation, Caroline was sweetly relentless. ‘Great Wivenden is a place for a husband, wife and children.’
‘I fancy so,’ said Captain Burnside, and frowned at a biography of Julius Caesar.
‘I am still only twenty-three,’ she said, taking off a year or two.
‘Ye gods, you married as a tender young girl?’
‘I married in mistake, sir.’
‘Then I earnestly hope your new choice won’t be another mistake,’ said the frowning captain. ‘Mr Wingrove springs to my mind as a faultless prospect, though it ain’t for me to name names. But if you care for my advice …?’
‘I don’t care for that advice at all,’ said Caroline. ‘Mr Wingrove?
Really. Do you wish me to live in faultless boredom?’
‘Since I own a fair line in boring patter myself, I ain’t in any position to cast doubt on Mr Wingrove’s ability to be entertaining.’
‘Heavens, are my ears deceiving me?’ said Caroline. She could have stayed in conversation with her delicious love all day, all week, all month, all year. For ever. ‘I declare that what you own, sir, is a singular line in taradiddle.’
‘I ain’t denying you’ve a healthy American awareness of English taradiddle,’ he said.
‘Nor should you,’ said Caroline. ‘I own I am sharp to spot it, and have had cause to accuse you countless times. I am acutely perceptive of nonsense, piffle and taradiddle, especially yours.’
Looking pained, Captain Burnside said, ‘I’m unacquainted with piffle, madam.’
‘Madam yourself, sir. And you’re not unacquainted at all. Your piffle is of the highest quality. But no one could say it was boring. And I shall not marry Mr Wingrove. There is Cumberland, of course …’
‘What?’ Captain Burnside looked her in the face at last, his expression glowering. Caroline tingled. ‘Mr Wingrove, yes. Cumberland, no.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Cumberland, never. I ain’t going to allow that.’
‘Friends should not get above themselves, Captain Burnside. I am not to be told what man I may have and what man I may not.’
‘You ain’t going to marry Cumberland, except over my dead body, and you can take that as final and unalterable from your most respectful friend.’
‘Heavens, such arrogance,’ said Caroline, and her most respectful friend looked positively grim. She smiled sweetly. ‘You must know I shall marry by my own dictates, sir, not yours.’
‘Damn all my patience if I don’t end up putting you over my knees.’
Her eyes locked with his. Heavens, he meant it.
‘Attempt it, sir, and I will scratch your eyes out,’ said Caroline, tingling with rapture at the sparks that were flying.
He sighed. ‘Then I beg you’ll dismiss Cumberland from your list,’ he said.
‘Ridiculous man, do you think I would ever seriously consider Cumberland? I have told you I never would. I shall choose an adorable husband, one who can make me laugh, tease me into tantrums and love me for myself.’
Captain Burnside scrutinized her. ‘Then you can choose from the whole of London,’ he said, ‘for I don’t doubt the whole of London loves you for yourself.’
She examined her gloved hands. ‘The whole of London, Captain Burnside?’
‘From which I hope you’ll choose the best and most deserving man,’ he said.
‘The whole of London?’ she reiterated.
‘Oh, gentlemen and beggars, merchants and princes,’ he said.
‘And ruffians and blackguards?’
That visibly startled him. ‘They won’t offer a worthy choice,’ he said.
‘But you will allow me to make up my own mind?’ she said.
‘No, not if it points you at the wrong man. I admire you too much, marm, to let you—’
‘Caroline. Must I keep reminding you?’
‘Damn it, I can’t forsake all my principles.’
‘I thought, sir, we had already dismissed your principles as fiddlesticks.’
Downstairs, in the main kitchen, Jonathan examined a long copper cooking pot. ‘That, Miss Howard, is for steaming a fish, a fine salmon, say.’
‘How boring,’ said Annabelle.
‘Now, now,’ said Jonathan amiably, ‘food ain’t boring, nor are the ways of cooking it.’
‘Oh, tush,’ said Annabelle.
‘It ain’t wise for a young lady to come ignorant to marriage,’ said Jonathan, his cheerfulness undaunted by all rebuffs.
‘Precocious and detestable beast, do you think I wish to marry a kitchen?’ said Annabelle. ‘Why are you so interested?’
‘I like food,’ said Jonathan, ‘don’t you?’
‘I do not gobble,’ said Annabelle, fidgeting.
‘Or wine?’
‘Nor do I guzzle,’ said Annabelle.
Jonathan laughed. From the other side of the kitchen, Mrs Hetty Simmons, the well-upholstered cook, smiled at the young couple. Miss Annabelle had found herself a very amiable gentleman, although she was playing him up a bit. Usually, whenever she appeared at Great Wivenden, she was sweetly engaging. Such a pity she and Lady Caroline did not come more often. Most of the time one was only cooking for the permanent staff. Lady Caroline was an exceptionally gracious lady, even if she was American. She had more style than some English duchesses.
‘Do you know what that is?’ asked Jonathan.
Annabelle regarded a peculiar-looking machine with the mystification of a young lady who had rarely entered a kitchen. ‘Oh, do, I pray, inform my ignorance,’ she said.
‘Well, in the first place, it’s a singularly secretive device,’ said Jonathan confidentially. ‘It ain’t every household that owns one. Come closer. I don’t want to shout.’
Annabelle, warm body gowned in muslin, kept her distance. ‘Oh, you are so boring,’ she said, ‘and who cares what the thing is?’
‘Who cares? Well, you should, because if I bundled you into it and turned that handle, you’d come out as mincemeat. But keep it to yourself, or terrible things will happen to young ladies pretty enough to be eaten.’
Mrs Simmons hastily muffled giggles. Annabelle stared at Jonathan as if he represented all that was pitiful.
‘Sickening beast,’ she said.
He moved to inspect a long iron spit mounted on the hearth. ‘That,’ he said, ‘would take an ox … Hello, hello, where are you, infant?’
‘Miss Annabelle slipped out, sir,’ said Mrs Simmons, hiding a smile. ‘She went through that door.’
‘Oh, ain’t she a contrary madam?’ he said. He found her on the terrace, at the rear of the house, its handsome façade rising to command the countryside, its many windows blinking in the sunlight. ‘This won’t do,’ he said.
‘It will do for me,’ said Annabelle. ‘You may go.’
‘No, I ain’t supposed to let you go wandering off into trouble, though I don’t know who would want to harm a sweet little girl like you.’
‘Little girl? Oh,’ breathed Annabelle, ‘never did I meet such a baboon. I would have you know, you odious specimen, that I am admired and favoured by a gentleman of high and noble majesty, beside whom you are low and common. Go away.’
‘Can’t be done,’ said Jonathan.
‘Tiresome creature,’ said Annabelle, ‘I did not know what misfortune truly meant until you appeared to take charge of me.’
‘Bless you, my infant,’ said Jonathan, ‘tomorrow when we return to London, misfortune will depart at speed from your life, for I shall be gone in a puff of smoke.’
‘Choking to death, I hope,’ said Annabelle, and Jonathan laughed aloud.
Caroline and Captain Burnside appeared. Caroline looked as if she had found the atmosphere of the library entirely elevating. The captain looked as if he had found it all of mystifying.
‘We are taking dinner and supper here,’ said Caroline, ‘and also staying the night. We can bring our luggage from the cottage this afternoon. Captain Burnside has been sweetly reasonable.’
‘I’ve known Charles to be fairly reasonable,’ said Jonathan, ‘I ain’t ever known him sweetly so.’
‘And I,’ declared Annabelle, ‘have never known him to be less than sweet in all things. Charles is adorable. You are a baboon.’
‘Ain’t she delicious?’ said Jonathan. ‘Beg to suggest, Lady Caroline, we all take a saunter around your gardens before dinner.’
‘How lovely,’ said Caroline.
‘Beg further to suggest Charles gives you his arm,’ said Jonathan, ‘while I take care of our delicious infant.’
‘Oh,’ cried Annabelle, ‘I vow myself utterly despairing.’
Chapter Twenty-six
They were back in the London house the foll
owing afternoon. Caroline’s first thought was for a bath, a warm, soapy and cleansing bath, wherein she could relax and dream while ridding herself of the dust of the journey.
Jonathan bowed himself out, saying goodbye first to Caroline and then to Annabelle. Annabelle expressed a polite and slightly distant farewell.
‘Shall you be returning home to Charleston and the family bosom?’ he asked.
‘I do not think I have ever discussed my home and family with you, Mr Carter,’ she said, ‘nor whether or not I intend to return.’
‘Well, you ain’t, no, that’s a fact,’ said Jonathan.
‘And I’ve no wish to detain you by discussing them now. You surely have many things to hurry to, such as kitchens and pots, brooms and dusters. Goodbye, sir.’
‘Ain’t you a mettlesome young filly?’ said Jonathan, and departed as cheerfully as he had arrived.
The moment Caroline was in her bath, Captain Burnside excused himself to Annabelle, advising her he had a little matter of pressing business to attend to.
‘Oh, bother everything,’ said Annabelle to herself. With both men gone, she felt unaccountably flat.
‘H’m,’ said His Grace, as distinguished a figure as ever.
‘Quite so, sir,’ said Captain Burnside, ‘a little matter of flying too high. I exaggerated the probable, and took off at the expense of the logical. I overlooked the obvious, which was that Miss Annabelle would refuse to stand up against Cumberland, and that, even if she did, Cumberland would reduce her to a total lack of credibility.’
‘Myself, I’m not so sure,’ said His Grace. ‘Cumberland, fearing his back was to the wall, could be as wickedly lethal as Macbeth.’
‘Ah, Lady Macbeth?’ suggested the captain.
‘Woman deadlier than the male, eh?’
‘Except Cumberland’s capable of living with his ghosts, sir.’
‘True, true. So you’ve brought Lady Caroline and her sister back. Well, I trust they’ll come to no harm. I also trust Lady Caroline don’t discover the truth about you. If she does, I’ll have you packed off to India in the employ of the East India Company. How does that fancy take you?’
‘It don’t have irresistible appeal, Your Grace.’
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