Reawakening Miss Calverley

by Sylvia Andrew

  When she could speak again Anne said, ‘I apologise! But it was just too irresistible.’

  He was still holding her, a smile lingering in his eyes. ‘I forgive you. It was worth it just to see you laughing like that!’ After a pause he went on, ‘However, now that I know how good you are, you won’t beat me again!’

  With a militant light in her eye she said, ‘Oh, won’t I? We shall have to see! Another game, sir?’

  They sat down to another game, but this time they proved to be so well matched that it grew later and later and still neither had won. James had to send for more candles and a little refreshment to sustain them, and eventually it was midnight before he finally said, ‘You’re a very worthy opponent, but you must be tiring. I think that, my dear, is checkmate.’

  Anne sighed and nodded. ‘That was a brilliant trap of yours. I didn’t see it coming. Thank you! It was a good game, and I enjoyed it. But next time…’

  James smiled. ‘Next time we shall at least begin on an even footing, my deceiver! And I shall look forward to it.’ He stood up and held out his hand. ‘But now, if you are to be fit to accompany me to Roade House tomorrow, you should go to bed! I’ll see you upstairs.’

  At the door of her room he stopped and bowed. ‘Thank you for a most…instructive evening. I shall see you tomorrow. We don’t know how well you ride, but after tonight’s experience I shall think twice before challenging you to any kind of race—at least before I put any money on the outcome. Sleep well.’ He bent his head and for one heart-stopping moment she wondered if he was about to kiss her. But he hesitated, then nodded without saying anything, and departed along the corridor. Anne was left wondering at his behaviour, until she heard another door close somewhere in the distance. Mrs Culver was keeping guard…

  * * *

  Rose was waiting for her in her room. As she helped Anne to undress she said, ‘The riding clothes and boots for tomorrow are in the dressing room, Miss Anne. Mrs Culver brought them in about half an hour after you had gone downstairs. She wanted you to try them on. She’s been in since once or twice, and wasn’t very pleased when she came the last time and found that you and his lordship were still in the library.’

  ‘That’s a pity,’ said Anne. ‘But I don’t think I shall bother trying them on tonight. Lord Aldhurst and I have had a royal battle of wits and mine are quite worn out.’ She yawned. ‘I’m sorry to have kept you up—you needn’t have stayed, Rose.’

  ‘Mrs Culver said I had to. Besides, it’s what ladies’ maids do, isn’t it? Goodnight, Miss Anne.’

  Anne smiled as she fell asleep. Rose could not yet be described as a perfect ladies’ maid. But her friendly chatter was a welcome contrast to Mrs Culver’s dourly dutiful approach.

  * * *

  The sun was shining in through the window when Anne woke the next morning. It was another fine day, and she had slept soundly with no dreams to disturb her. She sat up, revitalised and excited about the forthcoming excursion to Roade house. First, she had to see if the late Lady Aldhurst’s riding clothes fitted her—the boots were the most important, for if she couldn’t wear them she couldn’t ride, and would have to walk. She leapt out of bed and went into the dressing room. James’s mother had dressed expensively and well. The riding habit of dark green Circassian cloth that hung against the clothes press had been tailored by a master, its severe cut softened with braiding down the front and a small white ruff at the neck. A beaver riding hat was on the chair beside it, together with soft leather gloves, and below on the floor were boots of supple, rich brown leather, all of them the work of first-class craftsmen. After days spent in ill-fitting boots and a dress that was, despite Rose’s efforts, basically shabby, Anne’s feminine heart was bursting to wear such an altogether desirable outfit. She was struggling with the boots when Mrs Culver came in.

  ‘Oh, you’re in here!’ she said. ‘I wondered where you might be.’

  Anne stiffened, but decided to ignore any implication in the housekeeper’s words. ‘As you see, Mrs Culver,’ she said coolly, ‘I was looking for the clothes you were asked to put out for me, and have found them. Thank you. I shall need help in putting them on, particularly the boots. Have you come to help me, perhaps?’

  ‘Rose will be here in a moment. His lordship will see you in the breakfast room when you are ready.’

  ‘Please thank him and tell him I shall be with him in half an hour.’

  Mrs Culver left and Anne sighed at the housekeeper’s continued resentment. But she cheered up a few minutes later when Rose came in with her ready smile and willing hands, and before the half-hour was up she was dressed and ready to go downstairs. Rose was more than satisfied with the overall result. ‘It’s almost twenty years since those things were worn, Miss Anne, but you’d never guess it. From what I’ve heard the late Lady Aldhurst was always up to the minute in fashion, and her clothes fit you very well. That colour might have been meant for you, and I like the little ruff.’

  ‘Let’s hope I can live up to my finery when I’m on a horse, Rose. I expect I can ride, but I don’t know how well!’

  ‘I am sure you’ll find you ride very well, miss. I just know you will. But don’t wear yourself out again today. You’re still not all that strong, and there’s a lot to see in Roade House. It’s much bigger than Hatherton, but it’s a beautiful place. It’s a shame it’s been empty for so long. We’re all waiting for his lordship to marry, and then he might settle down and live up at the house—for some of the year, at least.’

  * * *

  Anne put aside the thought raised by mention of James’s future marriage and went downstairs. She was nervous. Today for the first time she was wearing the sort of clothes worn by a lady of the house, not a servant. She felt at home in them, but what would James think of her? Would he regret his offer to take her riding when he saw the beautiful clothes his mother had worn on the back of a waif, a stray, someone without name or status?

  He was already at the table, but as soon as he saw her standing shyly in the door he got up and came over to her. For a moment he stood looking at her, and then he lifted one of her hands to his lips. ‘Good morning,’ he said, smiling. ‘I think you slept well last night—you’re looking better than ever today. Did you?’ ‘Very well, thank you. With no dreams.’ ‘Chess is obviously good for you. Now, come to the table—you must fortify yourself. Honey? Toast? Meat?’

  Their conversation over breakfast was as lively as it had been the first time, but James reluctantly cut it short. ‘There’s a lot to see at Roade House. If we are to ride there and back and still have time to inspect the place properly we must set off quite soon. Are you ready?’

  * * *

  Ten minutes later they were outside the front of the house where Sam Trott was waiting for them. He had with him James’s bay and two other horses, both mares.

  ‘I see you’ve found what I asked for, Sam,’ said James, carefully inspecting the mares, one a little chestnut and the other a bay like his own. ‘But we’ll see what Miss Anne thinks of them.’ He turned to Anne and patted the chestnut mare standing patiently by the groom. ‘Would you care to try this one? She’s pretty, don’t you think? And a highly suitable mount for a lady.’

  ‘And the other one?’

  ‘This is Fuela. She’s a good horse, but I should warn you that this one has a mind of her own. She needs to have it made clear to her who is in charge.’

  ‘Then I’d like to try her, if I may.’

  James exchanged a smile with Sam. ‘What did I say?’ he murmured. Sam nodded and offered to help Anne mount. The two men watched on the alert, ready to come to Anne’s rescue as Fuela sidled and curvetted and tried a few dance steps, but their help wasn’t needed. Anne let the horse have her way for a minute or two, then took her firmly in hand and made her walk sedately round the drive. ‘She’s a beauty!’ she cried as she brought Fuela to a halt in front of them. ‘I’d love to ride this one.’

  James mounted his bay. ‘I was almost sure you would. Ri
ght! It’s this way. One thing to remember—if we see any strangers we’ll keep well away and let Sam deal with them.’

  They set off down a branch of the drive that soon turned into a bridle-path lane leading up the valley through woods and meadows. It was a fresh spring morning, and the countryside was alive with small creatures going about their business after their winter rest. The path took them through woods, and Anne exclaimed in delight at the buds on the horse-chestnut trees, which were already showing a hint of green, at the catkins on the silver birches dancing in the slight breeze, at the blue haze of bluebells pushing their way through the dead leaves of the previous season. James grinned at her frequent cries of, ‘Just look! Look at that! And that over there!’ and as the woods gave way to open fields he was hard put to it to answer her eager questions about the blackthorn bushes bordering them, and the flowers sheltering on the banks on either side of the path. As the path wound its way steadily upwards through woods and fields he watched her lift her face to revel in the sunshine, to savour the scents blown by the breeze.

  When they emerged at last into the open and joined the carriage road connecting the house to the main highway, Fuela scented the possibility of a run and grew restive.

  ‘Do you feel like letting her have her head?’ asked James. ‘The ground between here and the house is perfect for a gallop.’

  Anne didn’t wait to answer. She and Fuela took off down the drive before James had finished speaking. But he soon caught up with her, and together they raced towards the big house which was appearing in the distance.

  ‘That was…glorious!’ Anne gasped when they finally drew up. ‘I’d forgotten just how exhilarating a ride like that can be. Thank you, my lord, a thousand times! But I hope you won’t think me too feeble—I must rest for a minute or two just to get my breath back.’

  For a moment James found it impossible to say anything at all. On their way up Anne’s spontaneous response to everything she had seen and felt had amused and touched him. And now she was laughing up at him, so openly, so full of vitality, that he could not take his eyes off her. She was so unlike any woman he had ever known. The pale invalid had changed into a bewitching, laughing girl with a capacity for enjoyment, a spirit of strength and independence that amazed and delighted him. In a situation that would have destroyed many another she could still laugh, still be in turn mischievous, courageous, passionate, vulnerable, proud, and now at this moment so full of vivid life. A man would never be bored in her company, never have to wonder what to say next…

  And then he remembered that without him she was still effectively helpless until her memory returned, and he wondered what he was to do about her. For someone who throughout his adult life had sedulously avoided any serious commitment, the thought that Anne depended on him so completely was astonishingly attractive…

  ‘Lord Aldhurst?’ Anne was giving him a puzzled look, and he realised he had been staring at her for too long.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Shall we go on now to the house? Agnew is expecting us.’

  * * *

  As they approached the house Anne looked around her and saw that the third Lord Aldhurst had been a man of taste as well as riches. Roade was built in the Palladian style, of pale, creamy grey Portland stone brought all the way from Dorset—no doubt at great expense. It stood proudly on rising ground, its stately facade in perfect classical proportions, with pedimented pillars, symmetrical rows of windows and a graceful balustrade.

  James’s great-grandfather had given his new house the setting it deserved, too. It was surrounded by a beautifully landscaped park, with scattered specimen trees and banks of shrubs and bushes. It even had a lake fed by the stream that flowed on down the valley to Hatherton, and as they came nearer Anne could see a gracefully arched bridge that carried the road over the stream close to where it left the lake.

  The surprising thing was that it was all in excellent order. Anne could hardly believe that the house was unoccupied. ‘It’s not only lovely, it’s so well cared for! But no one lives here?’

  James frowned. ‘Not at the moment. I suppose I shall have to live here sometime, but not yet. This place may be beautiful, but it holds no happy memories for me.’ He looked unusually stern for a moment, then he started again, ‘Agnew takes pride in looking after the grounds and does an excellent job. He has responsibility for the house too, but is less interested in that. I think you’ll find a difference inside.’

  Slowly, it seemed to Anne almost reluctantly, James led the way through a pair of handsome gates out of the park and into the gardens surrounding the house. They circled round and stopped in front of the steps and porch of the main entrance, where Agnew was waiting for them. After a brief conversation with him, James escorted Anne inside. Here she came to a sudden stop and looked around in silence. ‘It takes my breath away,’ she said in a whisper, gazing up at the lavishly decorated white-and-gold ceiling, at the lofty Corinthian columns, which flanked the elaborately carved double door case opposite, at the paintings above each door.

  ‘My great-grandfather would be delighted to hear you say that,’ said James with a short laugh. ‘The entrance hall to Roade was meant to impress. I believe he spent more on this room than on the rest of the house put together. Do you like it?’

  Anne hesitated. ‘I think like would be the wrong word. Admire would be better. I am certainly impressed.’

  ‘As a child I found it overwhelming. Frighteningly so.’

  ‘It needs something to soften it. But then, if a family lived here, they would have flowers in urns, tables with possessions left on them,’ Anne said, turning round and viewing it as she spoke.

  ‘It never had anything like that when I lived here with my parents, I assure you. Come, I’ll show you the other rooms.’

  Their progress through the house was slow as Anne ignored the dust and cobwebs and admired everything she saw. She exclaimed at the view from the master bedroom window, was enchanted by the intimacy of the small parlour used by the ladies of the house, and lovingly traced with one finger the figure of a little mouse carved into the rich decoration of the library. Gradually, as James looked at the house through her eyes, it came alive for him too, and he began to see it as it could be, instead of the bleak place it had been in his early childhood.

  When they entered the music room she turned to him and said, ‘This looks just right. Listen!’ Her voice echoed round the room as she sang a short cascade of notes. ‘I knew it! It’s perfect for sound! I wonder what that piano is like…’ Without waiting for permission she walked over to the piano, which occupied most of one corner, sat down and played a chord. ‘It’s hardly out of tune at all,’ she said delightedly, and started to play an enchanting little piece, a waltz, which James had heard recently in one of London’s most fashionable drawing rooms. His hostess had claimed that it had arrived for the first time from Vienna just two days before.

  ‘Who taught you that?’ he asked.

  Still playing, she shook her head at him. ‘Really, my lord! I’m surprised at you. You should know better than that by now. I’ve no idea, of course!’

  She finished the waltz and got up. ‘Someone who loved music designed this room,’ she said, gazing round wistfully. ‘I’d like to live—’ She stopped, took a breath and said brightly, ‘What else is there to see?’

  James ushered her out into the entrance hall again. ‘I saved the best till last. I think you’ll like this next room even more.’

  Chapter Seven

  James opened one half of a pair of double doors and ushered Anne into the room beyond. It was dark inside, and she stood by the door while he unfolded the shutters on three tall windows in the opposite wall. Then, as light flooded in, her first impression was one of airy grace. Delicately carved girandole mirrors filled the spaces between the windows and ornamented the walls to left and right, and the plasterwork ceiling was exquisitely decorated with classical figures and garlands, which were repeated round a finely carved white marble firep
lace. When she walked over to the window she could see the lake, with its picturesque bridge in the foreground and a prospect far beyond over the valley to distant woods and fields.

  But as she turned and looked more closely she could see that the room showed the same evidence of neglect she had noticed in the rest of the house. The gilded mirrors were lacklustre, the fireplace was covered in dust, and the large chandelier, which hung in the centre of the room, was enveloped in a cotton shroud. The shutters had been closed because the curtains that should have been hanging at the windows were missing, and the few pieces of furniture were all protected by soiled Holland covers. Her footsteps echoed emptily as she walked about the room, and it seemed to her that, like the rest of the house, it was lying asleep, waiting for someone to come and bring it to life again.

  ‘It’s such a pity,’ she said impulsively. ‘This room is much too beautiful to lie empty like this. It should be full of people enjoying themselves, dancing, laughing…’

  ‘I believe it was when my grandfather was alive. He and my grandmother were fond of entertaining. But once my father inherited Roade it all came to an end. The house was hardly ever occupied. He and my mother were never in England for long enough.’

  ‘They travelled?’

  ‘Everywhere. All the time.’

  ‘Did they take you with them?’

  James gave a short laugh. ‘What an idea! We would have been far too much in the way. No, my brother and I were looked after by servants here at Roade until my grandmother took us in hand. That’s why I like Hatherton so much better. John and I were very happy there. My chief memory of this place is one of loneliness, of a house that was cold, unwelcoming…’

  Anne’s heart ached for the small boy who had been treated with such indifference. She must try to help blot out those memories. So she shook her head and said with conviction, ‘Oh, no! That wasn’t the fault of the house. Just look at this room! It positively begs you to feel at ease in it, to dance. Come! Quickly, while I still have that music in my mind!’