An Unwilling Alliance

by Lynn Bryant

  He had meant the compliment sincerely enough, but he could sense that he had made her feel uncomfortable and he wished he had not, because he had been enjoying her company. She was almost ten years his junior, but she seemed very sure of herself and he liked her direct manners. There was something almost masculine in the way she spoke to him; a surprising contrast to her very feminine appearance, but socially he suspected that she was less confident than she appeared.

  They rode on in silence for a few minutes. A flock of sheep grazed on the rough hillside, and Hugh wondered suddenly if they were his. Moore had been buying stock for the farm. Further down the hill, close to the stream on the other side of a crumbling stone wall were a dozen shorthorn cattle, and the thought that this land, this livestock, belonged to him, brought a sharp satisfaction which he knew ran in a direct and bitter line back to his father’s eviction off these same lands many years ago.

  Brendan House lay up to the west, an impressive building in local stone which had originally been built as a solid farmhouse in the mid-eighteenth century. As its owners became more prosperous they had added to the house, so the farmhouse had become a central block with two more modern wings added to it, and a kitchen and service area built on at the back. The last of the Cretney family had been an enthusiastic horse breeder and had built impressive stables, relocating the barns and cottages of the home farm further away and creating gardens in their place with spreading lawns and shrubberies. A broad drive had been cleared down to the main road with an old gatehouse, empty and neglected with broken windows and missing slates from the roof, guarding the entrance.

  There were signs of activity up at the house as Hugh reined in and swung himself from the saddle. A boy came forward to take the bridle and Hugh smiled at him.

  “Captain Kelly, lad, the new owner. Mr Moore about?”

  “In the house, sir. Shall I…?”

  “No, don’t worry. Take the horses to the stable and get them looked after. Miss Crellin.”

  She allowed him to lift her down. Her eyes were on the house and Hugh suspected she was remembering previous visits when the Cretney family had still lived here. Before he could ask her, a voice hailed him from an upstairs window.

  “Hugh! Christ, fella, every time I see you you’ve grown a foot in all directions. Hold on and I’ll be down.”

  Hugh gave a broad smile and turned to Roseen. “Come and be introduced, Miss Crellin.”

  Isaac Moore emerged from the open front door to the house and Hugh went forward to take his outstretched hand and to pull his oldest friend into a quick embrace. Isaac was almost a full head shorter than Hugh, barely taller than Roseen, a slim man of thirty three with a shock of red hair and green eyes which were permanently laughing. Hugh could remember their youth, when Isaac had been the older and taller of the two.

  “Jesus, Ise, you’re skin and bones! Didn’t they pay you enough to eat in that shipping office?”

  “Looks like you’ve been eating for both of us, boy, I didn’t know ships carried that much food. You all right?”

  “I am. It’s good to be home. But I’m forgetting my manners. Miss Crellin, may I introduce you to my oldest friend and now my land agent Mr Isaac Moore. Ise, this is Miss Roseen Crellin who is the daughter of my host and who has been good enough to bear me company today. She knew the Cretneys, the lad was a friend of her brother’s.”

  “Miss Crellin, glad to meet you. We’ve not met, but I know your brother slightly, we’ve drunk together at the Glue Pot with the garrison from time to time.”

  The girl gave a reserved smile. “It was his favourite occupation before he married, Mr Moore, but he’s a reformed man now.”

  “With a young one on the way, so I hear. Will you come inside? It’s chaos I’m afraid, I’ve got half the village up here cleaning the place from floor to ceiling and the carpenter and his mate are replacing several of the window frames. But there’s a small parlour where I’ve set up my office for the time being which is clean. Would you like some tea, Miss Crellin? Or lemonade. My lass makes it, it’s very good.”

  “Lemonade would be lovely, thank you. Your wife, Mr Moore?”

  “Not yet,” Isaac said cheerfully, leading them through the wide panelled hallway. “We’ve been betrothed for a while now, but I’d not the money to support a wife.” He shot a glance in the direction of Hugh. “That’s about to change. With this position I’ve a home to bring her to.”

  “Thank God for that, it’s high time,” Hugh said with a grin. “That poor girl has been waiting for you far too long, I can’t believe she’s stood by you. She must have had other offers, she’s far prettier than you are.”

  Moore went to a jug covered with a muslin cloth and poured lemonade into three pottery cups. “Your manners are as terrible as ever, Hughie, you shouldn’t be allowed to escort a lady. Miss Crellin, I hope he’s behaving himself?”

  “He has been very polite,” Roseen said serenely. “Thank you, Mr Moore, you are right, this is very good.”

  “Good-looking flock on the way up, Ise. Are they mine?” Hugh asked, pulling out a chair for Roseen to sit.

  “They are. I’ve got the details here. Although with a guest you might not want to attend to business…”

  “Please do,” Roseen said. “I’m interested.”

  Roseen sat sipping the lemonade and watching the two men as they pored over ledgers and bills of sale and discussed farmland and rough pasture and the preparation of long fallow fields for planting. She had grown up on an estate such as this and had spent many hours of her childhood with the farmhands helping to bring in the harvest or roaming the hills with the sheep. She understood the importance of the conversation, and knowing herself temporarily forgotten she took the opportunity to study Captain Hugh Kelly at her leisure.

  In her misery at the departure of Lieutenant Barton and her anger at her father’s very obvious encouragement of Captain Kelly’s suit, Roseen had not really found the opportunity to consider the man her father wanted her to marry. She considered him now as he bent over the table and was almost irritated to realise that she liked what she saw. He was tall, with mid brown hair which he wore long but neatly tied with a black ribbon and a pair of grey eyes which seemed to change colour with the light and his mood, so that sometimes they were the colour of a calm grey sky and at others darkened to the colour of slate roof tiles with a hint of dark blue. He was clean shaven, which Roseen liked, with well defined cheekbones, a slightly hooked nose and a mouth which smiled easily.

  She had been curious enough to ask her father for more information about him and knew that he was thirty and had been in the navy for half his life, rising from a humble cabin boy to command his own ship. It did not surprise her. There was an air of competence about Hugh Kelly and he carried himself with the natural authority of a man used to giving orders and seeing them obeyed. Roseen wondered, with slight resentment, if he expected her to be as compliant as his midshipmen.

  Hugh straightened and looked over at her with a smile. “Miss Crellin, you’ve been the soul of patience. While we’re here, would you mind if I looked over the house? I bought it furnished but I’d like to see the condition of the furnishings to see what else will be needed.”

  Roseen shook her head. “By all means, Captain. I can wait here.”

  Hugh held out his hand. “No, come with me. Isaac has plenty to do, I’m holding him up, and a woman’s eye might be of use when noticing holes in the curtains and damp in the upholstery.”

  Roseen looked at his hand, and felt once again as though he had neatly trapped her. She was bitterly aware at the slight smirk which Mr Moore was carefully concealing and she suspected that within a week the whole of Castletown and the surrounding area would know that she had toured the house with Captain Kelly, discussing improvements and purchases to be made. It was a very domestic occupation and felt far too intimate with a man she barely knew, but she could see no way out of it without being rude. He had asked nothing of her that was unreasonable but sh
e was very sure that he knew exactly what he was doing.

  His hand remained where it was, imperiously demanding her compliance. Another man would have lowered it by now. Roseen placed her hand into his. It was warm and strong and she felt an unexpected shiver of reaction to his touch which immediately appalled her. He seemed to sense her sudden discomfort because she saw him frown slightly. He did not release her, merely placed her hand onto his arm.

  “Call if you need me or you’ve any questions,” Isaac said. “Your servant, Miss Crellin.”

  The house was large, with a long drawing room occupying one of the modern wings. A young woman, probably in her mid- twenties, was busy pulling holland covers off the furniture, sneezing in a cloud of dust and Hugh laughed and moved forward.

  “Voirry, what the devil are you doing? Don’t I employ maids for this? If I don’t, tell that useless fiancé of yours to arrange it!”

  “Hugh!” The woman turned, smiling broadly, and came forward to kiss him. “It’s so good to see you. How are you? How well you look - so brown! Hardly Manx at all!”

  “And you’re as pretty as ever. Miss Crellin, may I introduce you to Miss Voirry Christian, soon to be Mrs Moore. She will be housekeeper here and live in the east wing with Isaac. Voirry, this is Miss Roseen Crellin who is the daughter of my new business partner and kind host. We are touring the house to see what needs ordering, Voirry, although I’m sure you have ideas of your own.”

  “I have a list,” the woman said. “Glad to meet you, Miss Crellin. I hope you will make any suggestions of your own; I’m not sure that Hugh is an expert.”

  “I will promise to be guided by those who are. Put those covers outside, Voirry, they’re filthy and look mouldy in places. No need to keep the place under covers now, you’ll be living here.”

  Voirry Christian smiled. She was a round faced woman, pleasantly curved with a pair of twinkling brown eyes and a mass of pretty brown curls. “This is far too grand for us, Hugh.”

  “It’s too grand for me as well, lass, but I intend to get used to it. I’ve told Isaac and I’m telling you the same; while I’m gone I want you both living in the house, not huddling in one wing. It’s a fine old house, it needs fires lit and the kitchen busy and the rooms aired. Promise me.”

  Voirry laughed, but Roseen could sense her pleasure. “If you insist, Hugh, but I’ll need a new gown if I’m to sit here with my sewing pretending to be a lady.”

  “You will if you keep dragging out this dust, that’s for sure. I want to show Miss Crellin the rest of the house, although she’s seen some of it before.”

  “Of course. It may be cold, we’ve every window open trying to air the place.”

  “It’s warm enough outside. Come on, Miss Crellin. You know this floor as well as I do.”

  Roseen took his outstretched hand again, more easily this time. Despite herself she liked him for his insistence on treating his new land agent and his betrothed as equals. In her experience, men who had climbed the social ladder were often keen to leave their former acquaintances firmly behind them and were more conscious of social differences than those born to privilege. She had already worked out that Hugh Kelly had not started from wealth or status, but she liked his lack of pretension.

  This time he kept hold of her hand and they wandered through the rooms. They were fine, well-proportioned apartments; a bigger house than Roseen’s own, with long windows and high ceilings. Several women stopped in their cleaning duties to bob awkward curtseys and Hugh spoke to each of them. He was unfailingly polite and pleasant and Roseen felt herself warm to him further.

  In each room Hugh surveyed walls and furnishings. He had taken a small notebook from his inner pocket and made quick notes in pencil, asking Roseen’s opinion. Despite her misgivings, Roseen found herself becoming involved in the discussion. It was fun to survey the rooms and to try to visualise what needed to be done to make them more comfortable. In the library she ran her hand over the spines of some of the leather bound books and pulled a face at the powder on her fingers.

  “Mould or dust?” Hugh asked.

  “A little of both,” Roseen said. “At some point you should have all these down and properly dusted. It will make it worse if some of them are damaged and they’re left here to rot.”

  “I won’t mention that to Ise today, it’ll make him cry. It can be a project for the long winter evenings. Part of me wishes I could be here to do it myself. It would take longer, I’d end up sitting on the floor reading them, but it would be fun.”

  “You like to read?” Roseen said, surprised.

  “I love it. I came late to books. I’d a basic education as a lad, I learned to read and write and do my sums, but I was more interested in working on the land or swimming in the glen or going out on the fishing boats than getting an education.”

  “So was I,” Roseen said without thinking, and then blushed as he shot her a surprised glance. “I…my brother and I were close when we were young, he took me out with him.”

  It was the best she could do and she was angry with herself for caring about his approval. After a moment Hugh gave a little smile.

  “You’re an interesting girl, Miss Crellin. I’d like to give you a tour of my ship one day.”

  “I can’t imagine how that could happen,” Roseen said firmly, putting him in his place.

  “I can,” Hugh said, and something in his tone brought the colour flooding to her face. This time he made no attempt to pass it off, stood watching her, looking as though he was enjoying her discomfiture. Roseen wished she could slap him. With an effort she managed a little smile.

  “I don’t think so, Captain. Shall we look at the kitchens?”

  “No, I’m leaving those to Voirry, my ignorance would embarrass me. Let’s go upstairs.”

  This time there was no mistaking his double meaning and Roseen lifted her chin slightly and did not smile. “That is hardly appropriate, Captain,” she said coldly.

  Unexpectedly, he capitulated. “I’m sorry. I was teasing you a little. I didn’t intend to put you to the blush. I do want to look at the bedrooms, I suspect I’ll need a new bed. But if it makes you uncomfortable I can do that part alone. Let’s go and find Voirry and she can give you tea. It’s not your job to help me furnish my house.”

  Irrationally, Roseen realised that she did not want to be left with the housekeeper while Hugh finished his tour alone. She shook her head. “I’d like to come,” she said. “I just…”

  She was unable to explain. The captain regarded her steadily and suddenly laughed aloud.

  “You’d prefer it without my ham-handed attempts at flirting with you? Honestly, Miss Crellin, so would I. Come on.”

  His frankness disarmed Roseen. She followed him up the wide staircase which was clearly a later addition. Upstairs there were several more parlours and a room which was furnished as a study. Hugh pushed open a door and stepped through then stopped. Roseen almost walked into the back of him and he held out a hand to steady her.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Crellin. I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “Nor was I,” Roseen said. She moved further into the room and looked around her in wonder. The room was at the back of the house and she had often looked at the small tower like structure which had been built onto one of the new wings and wondered about it, but during her acquaintance with the Cretneys she had never been to this part of the house. She realised now, with dawning delight, that the room had been designed to take advantage of the light and the views down the hill towards Castletown and Derbyhaven in the distance. Acres of pasture and farmland stretched out, divided by low stone walls and the occasional hedgerow. She could see paths, created by sheep and cattle criss-crossing the land. Two men were digging a drainage ditch and beyond them a heavy wagon toiled up the road towards the house and farm.

  Beyond that was the sky and the sea, cobalt blue dotted with white and grey streaked clouds, reaching down to the silver magic of the water. It lay calm and shining, still as the Irish sea ra
rely was, with a few gulls swooping lazily over the surface and three or four dots that she identified as fishing boats further out. There was a magical quality to the light from those long windows and Roseen moved forward and knelt on one of the window seats, her eyes on the view.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “Who built this?”

  “Cretney’s father built it for his wife, I’m told,” Hugh said, coming to stand behind her. “She was an invalid from quite a young age and couldn’t go out much, so he tried to bring the sea and the sky to her. I’ve never been up here although I remember as a lad looking up at it and wondering how far you could see from these windows.”

  “A long way,” Roseen said. She could not take her eyes from the shining expanse of the sea. “It’s so still today; like a lake.”

  “It is. There’s still enough wind though, look at those little white capped waves.”

  Roseen laughed. “Oh stop being a sailor and just enjoy it! It’s like looking at a living painting, I can’t stop staring. If I lived here I’d never sit anywhere else.”

  “Might be a bit less appealing in winter,” Hugh said. He was watching her face. Lost in the beauty of the view, Roseen Crellin had lost all self-consciousness and he stood very still close behind her, not wanting to spoil the moment. The strong line of her jaw was outlined against the backdrop of the panoramic view of country, sea and sky, and her dark hair was wispy around her face. She looked very lovely and Hugh studied her and thought how much he would enjoy kissing her.

  The task of deciding what needed to be done around the house had been made more enjoyable by the presence of Josiah Crellin’s bright-eyed daughter. Once she had relaxed with him she had been very free with her opinions and ideas. He had been aware that including her in this very domestic activity would cause some talk about his intentions towards her, but he did not really care. He was not sure that Roseen Crellin was convinced yet about his suitability as a husband and he knew that a day spent in her company was not long enough for him to make a sensible decision, but he was beginning to find the idea very appealing. On paper it was a sensible match and he knew that her father would welcome his interest. In practice, Hugh was ruefully conscious that he was beginning to think less about her suitability and more about the colour of her hair and the warmth of her smile.