by Anne Herries
Her mother agreed that she did and the conversation turned towards various poets they all admired. In this way the time passed pleasantly enough until Marianne was able to set them down at the next inn.
‘Well, that was an adventure,’ Sally said, once they were on their way again. ‘It is a pity they were not going to Cornwall, miss. The young lady would have been a nice friend for you.’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Marianne said. ‘She was charming, her mother, too—but I dare say we shall not meet again.’
She eased against the cushions, feeling thankful that her uncle had provided her with such a comfortable mode of transport. They would probably be on the road for at least another two days. For a moment she sighed, wishing that she might have travelled on horseback like the man who had seemed in command when the damaged coach was moved from the road. He would get wherever he was going much faster. For a moment she envied his freedom, thinking how pleasant it would be to be riding on a day like this, and then she shook her head and smiled. How shocking of her to be thinking that she would like to be riding with a man she did not know and never would.
Drew yawned as he leaned his head against the high back of his chair. It was now well past midnight and nothing had happened. Earlier that evening, he had carried his chair to the window, giving himself a clear view of the cove below. He had been lucky to find a suitable property, but it belonged to the Edgeworthy estate and had once been home to a cousin of the elderly lady who owned it now. His agent had negotiated the lease for him, telling him that the lady’s man of business had been very willing to rent it to Drew for a few months. He had found the local man eager to be of service when they arrived the previous day.
He had given Drew the key, saying, ‘You will find it a solid house, though nothing has been done to it for years, Mr Beck. The last occupier fell to his death from the cliff path and Lady Edgeworthy thought it best to shut the place down. However, she will be happy to rent it to you for as long as you wish.’
‘That is most kind of her,’ Drew said. ‘As I told you, I am here for my health…’ He gave a little cough behind his hand. ‘Sea air and exercise will benefit me greatly, and I like to watch the gulls as they circle over the cliffs.’
‘Well, if you feel it will suit you. I’ve had the house cleaned, of course—shall I hire a woman to cook and clean for you every day?’
‘Thank you for having the house cleaned,’ Drew said, ‘but I have brought my manservant—he will care for me as he always does.’
Drew was smiling to himself as that servant entered the room, carrying a decanter of brandy and a glass on a small tray, which he set down on a table nearby.
‘Will you be wanting me again this evening, sir?’
‘No, thank you, Robbie. If I were you, I should get some sleep. You will have enough to do in the next few weeks—and I may need you one of these nights.’
‘Right you are, Captain.’
‘It’s just Mr Beck for the moment,’ Drew reminded him gently. Robbie had been his batman in Spain, and had returned to the estate with him when he sold out, caring for his personal needs much as he had while they were both soldiers. He knew that some of his neighbours, and indeed the other servants at the Manor, found it an odd arrangement, for Robbie was no picture-book hero with his scarred face and black patch over one eye. ‘We want to appear as ordinary as possible. I am recovering from illness and you are my faithful manservant.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Robbie replied. ‘It might be better if you called me Harris—some might find Robbie a mite familiar. You can get away with it as Marlbeck, but not as Mr Beck, I believe.’
‘Yes, perhaps you are right,’ Drew acknowledged. ‘But when we are alone it does not matter, Robbie.’
‘Right you are, Captain.’
Drew grinned as his servant left the room. Robbie never missed a trick, and perhaps it was his intelligence and his dry humour that had forged the bond between them. Robbie had patched Drew’s wounded shoulder with the same dexterity as he repaired his uniform, his manner usually polite but direct, though it had sometimes bordered on insolence when he considered that his officer was stepping out of line. And there had been times during his wild days when the only man who could steady him with a word or a look had been his faithful batman. Drew had been damned lucky to find such a loyal friend to serve him!
He had chosen to bring Robbie as his confidant in this mad adventure, for it was as such he saw it, knowing that he could rely on the man to keep his mouth shut and do whatever he asked of him. The agent had provisioned the house before they came down, and for the past two days they had lived in splendid isolation, eating their way through the generous hamper his chef at Marlbeck had prepared. When that was finished, it would be plain rations, because Robbie’s cooking was not his best asset.
Drew hoped they would not receive many visitors up here, which was one of the reasons he had chosen the house, but he knew that he ought out of politeness to pay at least one social call. He must visit Lady Edgeworthy, if only to introduce himself.
He looked out of the window again. The moon was full and the sky clear of clouds. It was unlikely the smugglers would risk landing this night, because they would be too easily seen. He might as well follow his own advice, and go to bed.
For a moment the picture of a woman’s face came into his mind. She had taken up the stranded passengers from the damaged coach he had helped to manoeuvre from the road the previous day. Something about her face had made him stare, possibly too long and too intently, for as her carriage passed him he had seen a spark of anger in her eyes. He smiled at the memory, suspecting that she was as spirited as she was beautiful, though undoubtedly a lady. And not at all the meek woman he had envisaged as making his wife one day in the hope of an heir. She was far too good for a man such as he, for he knew that he would break the heart of an innocent girl. Far better to find a widow who would tolerate his restless nature for the sake of a comfortable life.
Besides, it was unlikely that he would ever see the beauty again.
‘Marianne, my dear,’ Great-aunt Bertha said and kissed the girl’s soft cheek as she entered the parlour that afternoon. ‘I am so pleased that you could come. I was afraid that the journey would be too tiresome for you, but I see that your Uncle Wainwright was good enough to send you in his carriage, and that was kind of him.’
‘Yes, very kind,’ Marianne said. ‘We were more than three days on the road and it was tiring, though we had no accidents ourselves. Also, it meant that I was able to get a refund on the ticket you purchased for me, Aunt. I have the money in my purse and shall give it to you later.’
‘I would not dream of accepting it,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. She was a small, thin lady with wiry grey hair hidden beneath a lace cap and bright eyes. ‘Keep the money, Marianne. I intend to make you an allowance and that may be a part of it. You must have some money in your pocket, my dear.’
‘Even after I gave Sally a guinea before she left for her kindness to me on the journey here, I have ten pounds of my own and the fifty shillings I was refunded. I assure you that I have never been half as rich in my life.’
‘Well, I am pleased to hear it,’ Lady Edgeworthy said, her soft mouth curving in a smile. ‘However, you will need things for yourself, my dear. I am hoping that you will stay with me for a long visit. You are young and naturally you will marry one day. It is my intention to set up a trust fund for you, which will become your dowry when you are wed. You are my goddaughter and I have always intended to do something for you, and now it is done we may forget it.’
‘You are too generous,’ Marianne said and blushed. ‘I am sure I did not expect it.’
‘We shall say no more of the business,’ Lady Edgeworthy told her. ‘I just wanted you to know that you will not be penniless, Marianne. I may do something for your mama, too, but that is for the future.’ She smiled at her great-niece. ‘Do you think you can be happy here with me?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Marianne replied without he
sitation. ‘I never realised it was so beautiful here, Aunt Bertha. I shall enjoy walking on the cliffs, and perhaps on the beaches, too.’
‘Most of them are quite safe,’ her great-aunt told her. ‘But the cove can quickly become a trap if the tide turns. The water sweeps in there very swiftly and it is difficult to climb the steep path, unless you know it well.’
‘I shall remember,’ Marianne said and thanked her. ‘But I have not asked how you are. Your letter said that you have been ill?’
‘Oh, I had a chill and it left me feeling low,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘You must not think me an invalid. I still entertain now and then, and occasionally I visit friends, though most of them are kind enough to call on me these days.’
‘You gave up the London house, I think?’
‘I have lent it to a distant cousin of my late husband’s,’ Lady Edgeworthy said with a slight frown. ‘You know that I have no children of my own, Marianne. My son died in infancy and I was not blessed with a daughter. Had I had grandchildren, I should have kept it free for them, but as it is…I have no use for it. I do not care to racket about town myself, and Joshua asked if he might rent it from me. I told him that he may use it for as long as he wishes, though he says that in time he intends to settle down in the country.’
‘I do not believe I have met your husband’s cousin?’
‘Joshua Hambleton,’ Lady Edgeworthy said and looked thoughtful. ‘In truth I do not know him well, for he had never visited me until a little under a year ago. He is a very quiet, unassuming man, Marianne. He comes down regularly now, and he stays with me then, but his visits are normally no longer than a few days. I dare say you may meet him while you are residing with me.’
‘I shall look forward to it,’ Marianne said and looked round as the door opened and a lady came in. She was neither young nor old, but in her middle years; tall and slender, she had light brown hair and eyes. She was dressed plainly, but Marianne thought that she might have looked more attractive if she had dressed her hair in a softer style. She stood up and went forward to greet her great-aunt’s companion. ‘How are you, Miss Trevor?’
‘I am very well, Miss Horne. It will be nice for Lady Edgeworthy having you to stay. I think sometimes we are too quiet here and she feels the lack of company.’
‘You do yourself no justice, Jane,’ Lady Edgeworthy told her with a slight frown. ‘I am content with your company most of the time—but I have been wanting to see my great-niece for ages. I believe you were no more than fifteen when I last visited your home, Marianne?’
‘The same age as Lucy is now,’ Marianne told her. ‘She is so pretty, Aunt. Jo made her a redingote of blue velvet just before I left home, and it suited her so well. We trimmed her best bonnet with matching ribbons and a bunch of blue forget-me-nots.’
‘How charming,’ Jane Trevor said, taking her seat. ‘It must be nice to have sisters to share one’s pleasures with, Miss Horne. I had a brother, but I have not seen him since he ran away to sea as a boy.’
‘Mama and Papa longed for a boy, but instead they had three girls to plague them,’ Marianne said and laughed, because it always made her happy to think of her family. ‘Jo wishes she were a boy, but I’m afraid that she must be bound by the rules of society as we all are. If she had been the son Papa wanted, I think she might have been a lawyer or a surgeon for she is very clever.’
‘Ah, yes, that reminds me,’ Lady Edgeworthy said and looked at her companion. ‘I must ask Doctor Thompson for some more of that peppermint cordial he so kindly made up for me. It certainly helps my digestion.’
‘I shall make a note of it and ask him when he calls on Friday.’
‘I thought you were better now?’ Marianne asked.
‘Oh, Doctor Thompson comes to tea each Friday,’ Lady Edgeworthy told her placidly. She glanced at her companion. ‘We have known each other many years, and he is a pleasant gentleman—is he not, Jane?’
‘Oh…yes, I suppose so,’ Miss Trevor said and blushed. ‘He was very good to you when you were ill this spring, and I think his remedies have helped you considerably.’
‘Yes, well, I dare say they have,’ Lady Edgeworthy said and sighed. ‘I do not feel quite as I ought…’ She shook her head and looked at Marianne. ‘But I am sure I shall improve now that you have come to stay, my dear.’
‘I do hope so,’ Marianne said, though privately she thought that perhaps loneliness rather than illness had caused her great-aunt’s low spirits. She had retired to this isolated estate in Cornwall, cutting herself off from many of her friends and acquaintances, which was a little sad. In London, she might still have gone into company had she wished.
‘Take Marianne upstairs, Jane,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘We should all change for dinner soon, though it will be just the three of us this evening—but that is no excuse for lowering standards, is it?’
‘No, indeed,’ Marianne agreed. She stood up and accompanied the companion from the room, glancing at her curiously once they had left the pretty parlour where her great-aunt still sat. ‘Was Lady Edgeworthy very ill?’
‘It was a nasty chill,’ Jane Trevor said and looked thoughtful. ‘I think she is much better in herself, but she has not recovered her spirits. I do not know why. She thinks a lot of her life as it was years ago and it makes her unhappy.’
‘Does she not go out in company?’
‘Very seldom,’ Jane replied. ‘I do not think she has left the house, other than to walk in the gardens, since last Christmas. Her friends and neighbours call to see her now and then, and she did have a dinner party last time Mr Hambleton was staying, but that was two months ago.’
‘It is hardly surprising if she is in low spirits,’ Marianne said. ‘We must see what we can do to cheer her, Miss Trevor.’
‘Please call me Jane…if you wish…’ Jane’s face went pink.
‘Yes, of course. There is no reason why we should be formal with each other,’ Marianne said. ‘I should be happy to do so if you will call me by my name?’
‘Thank you,’ Jane said and looked pleased. ‘It will be nice to have young company in the house.’
Marianne nodded, for she wished to be on good terms with her great-aunt’s companion. ‘You must tell me the best place for walking here, Jane. Aunt Bertha warned me that the cove can sometimes be dangerous.’
‘Oh, yes, I should stay well clear of that if I were you,’ Jane told her, a flash of alarm in her eyes. ‘It is very dangerous—and there are plenty of beaches just round the corner from there where you may walk safely. If you would care for it, I shall show you how to reach the safe beach in the morning—but there are pretty walks on the estate. We have some lovely rhododendrons, though of course they are over for this year—but you may find it more pleasant to walk on the cliffs, for the views are spectacular on a clear day.’
‘Yes, I dare say I may, for sand always gets into one’s shoes, does it not?’
They had reached Marianne’s room and parted as she went inside. It was a large bedchamber, furnished in shades of green and blue with a hint of white here and there. The silk bedspread was made of green quilted silk and very handsome, as were the drapes at the windows, the sofa and stool covered in a deeper shade of blue. Matching chests stood at either side of the bed, and a dressing table with an oval mirror standing on top were placed in front of the window to the right, while a small writing table occupied the similar space before the window to the left. Because of the two windows, it was light and airy.
Marianne’s few possessions had been unpacked, her combs, brushes and scent bottles placed on the dressing table. However, there were silver trinkets littering the tops of occasional tables and some handsome Chinese vases filled with dried flowers helped give the room an air of richness and comfort. Her dresses had been unpacked and were carefully laid on the shelves of the armoire.
Marianne chose one of her older gowns, thinking she would save her new ones for when they had company. She had begun to change when a knock at the door her
alded one of Lady Edgeworthy’s maids, who inquired if she could help her dress.
‘Thank you, but this dress buttons at the front,’ Marianne told her. ‘I may need help another evening if we are entertaining, for my best gown is fastened at the back.’
‘Would you like me to dress your hair, miss?’
‘Thank you, Ruby,’ Marianne said. ‘I should like to put it up on top, if you please.’
She took her seat at the dressing table, allowing the maid to dress her hair in a smooth double knot at the back of her head, smiling and thanking her when she was finished.
After the girl had left, Marianne glanced at the little silver watch that she wore from a pin on her gown. Papa had given it to her for her seventeenth birthday and she treasured it. It was now ten minutes to six and she went to gaze out of the window before going downstairs. Her view was mostly of the gardens, but in the distance she could see the cliffs—and a house outlined against the sky. It was completely alone, as if it had been built for the use of someone who needed to be near the sea—perhaps the captain of a ship? She imagined the sea captain’s wife standing at her window, looking for the sails of her husband’s ship, and then laughed at herself. More likely it was the coastguard’s house. She knew that on occasion smuggling went on along this Cornish coast, and the house would be ideal for a Revenue officer, though of course her aunt would not permit smuggling in her cove.
She had far too much imagination for her own good! Which was undoubtedly why she had found the gentleman with the intensely blue eyes creeping into her thoughts at the oddest of times.
Hearing a gong sounding within the house, Marianne went downstairs. She found that Aunt Bertha and Jane had already gathered in the drawing room, and dinner was about to be served in the small dining parlour.
Rising early the next morning, Marianne went out to explore the countryside surrounding her great-aunt’s estate. It was warm and still that day, the sea calm, almost flat as Marianne walked along the edge of the cliffs. She stood for a few minutes, looking out towards the sea, watching as some gulls landed on a protrusion of rock a little way from the shore. In rough weather the rocks would be surrounded by foaming water and probably invisible from a ship. It was not surprising that so many ships foundered in these waters.