A Vow for an Heiress

by Helen Dickson

  Clarissa came to her side, a curious frown creasing her brow.

  ‘Who were those men, Rosa? Do you know them?’

  ‘No, not at all. I saw one of them at the inn where we took refreshment on our journey from London. I think he is connected to Lord Ashurst in some way.’

  ‘Quite possibly,’ Clarissa said. ‘Those gentlemen are clearly Asian and Lord Ashurst has just returned from India so it would not be unusual.’

  ‘I don’t think they are nice men, Clarissa.’

  Clarissa looked at her curiously. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because Lord Ashurst was also at the inn that day—not that I knew who he was then—but I have an uneasy feeling that the men you have just seen are dangerous individuals—men Lord Ashurst has reason to fear.’

  * * *

  They attended their grandmother’s funeral as did many others who had known her. It was a warm sunny day, marred only by the sorrow. It was then that Rosa realised just how well known and respected her grandmother had been. The funeral service was held in Ashurst village church, the service simple and moving. Afterwards Amelia Ingram was laid to rest with her beloved husband in the churchyard.

  At the back of the church on the opposite side to where the Ingram sisters sat, enclosed in a boxed pew, William rested his gaze on the two young women at the front. Their heads were bent over their prayer books as the priest in his ornate robes intoned the solemn, centuries-old words of the funeral service. His gaze passed over Clarissa to her sister, where he let it rest, looking at Rosa with interest. Remote and slender, she had a purity of profile which arrested and compelled his eyes. Her devotions as she knelt and prayed seemed absolute. Her black-bonneted head was haloed in the light penetrating the windows and he saw, when she lifted her head and let her gaze fall on the cross on the altar, that her expression was sorrowful and tense. There was a shadowed hollowness to her cheekbones and she was pale, which told William how affected she was by her grandmother’s death.

  Along with the rest of the mourners he followed the service, automatically saying the familiar words of the prayer, but his gaze kept straying to Rosa Ingram, to the gracefulness of her head, now bent in utter submission, her lips moving in silent prayer.

  As if aware of his gaze, suddenly she turned her head and looked directly at him, her eyes a brilliant green and intensely secretive in the atmosphere of reverence, a recognition stirring in their depths. The sheer intensity of that glance, the nakedness of it, and the intimacy, made William feel that they were the only two people inside the church.

  Then the service was over and he stood, momentarily distracted by the people moving all around him, following the funeral procession outside into the blazing sunlight. Outside the church he stood back, watching the proceedings as the coffin was lowered into the ground, but all he could think about was Rosa Ingram and the imprint of her secretive glance. He had been made uneasy by it. There was something about her that reached out to him and touched him in half-forgotten, obscure places.

  * * *

  Rosa and a tearful Clarissa greeted the steady stream of guests as they arrived at the house. Rosa had noted Lord Ashurst’s presence in the church. He had become the focus of everyone’s scrutiny. Everyone knew the new Earl of Ashurst had taken up residence at Ashurst Park, but few people in the surrounding district had seen him. It was well known that he had spent almost his entire life in India, which made him a somewhat mysterious, curious figure, but there were those who remembered him as a youth when he had come to England for his education and resided at Ashurst Park.

  Rosa saw him arrive and studied him for a moment in silence before moving forward to greet him. He was clad in jet black with the exception of his snowy-white shirt and cravat, which gleamed in stark contrast to his black suit and silk waistcoat. As she had noted on their first meeting there was a strong, arrogant set to his jaw. Everything about him exuded brute strength and arrogant handsomeness. He was the kind of man who was capable of silencing a room full of people by just appearing in the doorway, whose attitude was that of a man who knew his own worth.

  His appearance in the church had pulled her from the strange melancholy that had seemed to enclose her since her grandmother’s death. She had experienced a feeling of alarm on seeing him again. He had appeared too suddenly for her to prepare herself, so she had been unable to suppress the heady surge of pleasure she experienced.

  As Rosa faced him, it was difficult to set aside their last meeting and what had transpired. ‘Lord Ashurst, thank you for coming.’

  ‘I won’t stay, but I wanted to speak to you both personally to convey my condolences. I must apologise for not coming sooner, but pressing matters of business have taken up my time.’

  ‘Yes, I can understand that, but no apology is necessary, I assure you,’ Rosa said. ‘We are grateful to you for coming. Grandmother did not have the best of health, but we did not expect her to leave us so soon. Her death has come as a crippling blow to both of us.’

  William shifted his gaze to Clarissa, who hovered shyly a step behind her sister. ‘I intended riding over to see you, Miss Ingram.’ He saw her moist eyes light with hope and an underlying uncertainty. ‘Worry not. Your sister has explained everything to me so we need not discuss the matter further.’ Seeing Clarissa’s happy response, he smiled. ‘We will speak of it no more and I wish you well in your future happiness.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Clarissa murmured, clearly relieved that she had escaped marriage to this formidable man. ‘I appreciate your understanding.’ Her eyes filled up with tears. ‘Please—excuse me.’

  Rosa watched her go before turning back to Lord Ashurst. ‘Clarissa’s taken Grandmother’s death badly. She is quite overwhelmed by all this and will probably go to her room to lie down.’

  William noted a change in Rosa Ingram from their previous two encounters. This was not the face of the young woman who had boldly come to his home and proposed marriage to him. Then, her haughty manner had marked her as strong of character whereas now, with her eyes full of grief and a gentle smile on her lips, there was a softness about her, an elusive gentleness that declared her to be as vulnerable as the roses that clambered over the garden walls. Clearly she was a woman of ever-changing moods and subtle contradictions, and while her physical beauty first arrested the attention, it was this spectrum, this bewildering, indefinable quality that held him captive.

  ‘And you, Miss Ingram? Your grandmother’s death must have come as a shock to you, too.’

  ‘Yes, it has. I am going to miss her terribly. To have only recently arrived in England and then to lose her so soon is heartbreaking.’

  A strange, sweet melting feeling softened William’s innermost core without warning, the place in him that he usually kept as hard as steel. ‘And it will affect your future, no doubt.’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied stiffly.

  ‘What will you do? Have you decided?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I don’t have to do anything at present.’

  ‘And the house?’

  ‘My grandfather’s nephew has inherited Fountains Lodge—Antony Ingram. He is a businessman and married with a young family so this house will be perfect for them.’

  ‘He was not at the funeral?’

  ‘No. He lives in Scotland. He is held in the highest regard. His reputation as a gentleman and a businessman is unequalled and, I regret to say, as yet I have not had the pleasure of making his acquaintance. He has many things to take care of before he can leave. Ingrams have lived at Fountains Lodge since the day it was built over two hundred years ago. I’m glad it’s to remain in the family.’

  ‘Will you stay until he arrives?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. It could be several weeks before he manages to get here. I might go with Clarissa to London, where we will stay with my mother’s sister, Aunt Clara.’

  ‘And Clarissa?’

&
nbsp; ‘Will marry Andrew and return to the West Indies. His family lives on Barbados. His father is also a planter of sugar cane. She will be happy there.’

  ‘I sincerely hope so.’ He looked beyond her to the knot of people looking curiously his way. He stepped back. ‘If you will forgive me, I will bid you good day, Miss Ingram. I have pressing matters to attend to.’

  ‘Yes—of course. Thank you for coming.’ She watched him leave the house before remembering there was something of importance she wanted to say to him. Quickly she went after him, halting him in his stride as he strode towards his carriage. ‘Please, Lord Ashurst, wait. There is something I have to tell you. It may be important, it may not, but I think you should know.’

  Pausing, he turned and looked at her, waiting for her to speak.

  ‘It’s about the Indian gentleman I saw at the inn on our journey here. He was in Ashurst two days ago.’

  William froze. He felt nausea strike within him and a sudden grinding pain behind his eyes. ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘I saw him. I was with Clarissa. He was tall and thin with a hook nose. I also noticed that one of his teeth at the front was gold. There was another Indian gentleman with him, very similar in looks, but not quite as tall.’ As he listened she observed his reaction, saw his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle began to throb in his cheek.

  ‘I see,’ he retorted tightly.

  ‘You—know who they are?’ she queried tentatively, curious as to their identity and their connection to Lord Ashurst and the woman and boy she had seen at the inn.

  He nodded. ‘I do.’ He felt as if he had stepped into his worst nightmare. Kamal Kapoor had a gold tooth.

  ‘Who are these men?’ she ventured to ask.

  His eyes narrowed to dark blue shards. Unable to quell the cauldron of emotions that were seething inside him, his fury escaped him. It vibrated around her. ‘Believe me, Miss Ingram, you don’t want to know.’

  His reply was brusque, warning Rosa to pry no further, but she was curious as to the bitterness her question had evoked. ‘Of course not. I understand. It is none of my business—which is what one of the men said to me.’

  There was a steely strength to him as he gave her a slow, studied glance. ‘They spoke to you?’

  ‘Yes. One of them recognised me.’ She looked at him directly. ‘He told me not to interfere in what they do. Tell me, Lord Ashurst—am I in danger?’

  ‘No. You have no need to feel threatened by them. It’s me they are interested in—and the child,’ he said in a controlled voice, while inside he was seething with rage, knowing Anisha’s assassins—her brother Kamal Kapoor and his cohort—had followed him to Ashurst. ‘Don’t let it concern you, but should you see them again I would appreciate being told.’

  On that note William left her, knowing there was nothing he could do about the two men unless he was prepared to commit murder. His temper, a true Barrington temper, was never a wise thing to stir. Right now, he was prowling, a hungry wolf seeking blood. If anyone harmed Dhanu, that equated to an act of aggression against him and the experienced soldier beneath the veneer of an elegant gentleman reacted and responded appropriately.

  He asked himself why a man could kill his fellow man in battle and why a man could be shot or hanged for a crime he has committed, yet he was not permitted to kill a man who was intent on murdering Dhanu.

  * * *

  The early-morning mist had lifted and the day was crystal clear as William rode up the valley, his mount’s hooves striking sharp against the rocks.

  Although the estate employed a very efficient bailiff, William considered running the estate a full-time occupation, and the concerns of his tenant farmers were his own concerns. He rode out to make himself known to his tenants and their families and inspected properties and land. He talked to them in depth and made mental notes of their needs—which were many. No doubt some of his fellow landed aristocrats considered his work habits most eccentric, but he didn’t care a jot. The welfare of his farmers was most important to him and he hadn’t realised what dire straits they were in. Unable to make a decent living from the land and their livestock, some of them were considering coming out of their farms. In all conscience he could not let that happen. Something must be done and it was up to him entirely.

  But on this particular morning he felt at ease and at peace among the gently rolling hills and valleys that lay all about him. Why this should be so was a mystery to him since his situation was more serious than he had realised when he had come to Berkshire. The last few months had been full of anxiety, tension and infuriating frustration for him and finding out the extent of the debts had driven him almost to breaking point. His lawyer had informed him that time was running out. Only yesterday he had sat at his desk looking with despair at the list of debts that far exceeded what he had imagined. It had sent a chill through his heart.

  In the past, under the diligent care of previous earls, Ashurst Park and all its land and properties had prospered. With the death of his cousin and the troubles, it was as if the life and soul had gone out of the place. Everyone connected to it knew there were dark days ahead. He could not rest until the money that was owed was paid back. It was not right that his family’s bad luck should impact on the livelihood of others. If he couldn’t find his way out of the financial mess within the next two weeks, with creditors coming at him from all directions, there would be nothing for it but to sell the estate.

  Knowing there was no time to go heiress hunting and loath to leave Dhanu at Ashurst Park too long because of the dangers the two men posed to his safety, William’s thoughts turned to Rosa Ingram and the proposal she had made to him. Women had been drawn to him since he was a youth, but he had never left himself vulnerable, as he was now. The thought that he would marry her to secure his estate was acutely distasteful to him.

  In truth he didn’t want to dwell on the threat she posed to his carefully held feelings and emotions. But she had offered him a solution to his situation that could prove useful to him. And though furious at not having the upper hand, he was considering trading his aristocratic lineage for the sake of his future security and Miss Ingram’s money—a commonly accepted practice, but it made him feel less of a man.

  Halting his horse on the wooded hill overlooking Ashurst Park and the lake, he gazed about him. Crushed by all the unsupportable issues he was involved with, he had taken to coming to the tranquil and everlasting peaceful countryside to gain relief from the empty stillness, which was quite profound. The durability all around him gave him hope for the future.

  * * *

  Rosa loved to ride in the early morning. As soon as breakfast was over, eager to get out of the house and away from the sombre funereal atmosphere that clung to it, she made her way to the stables. Clarissa didn’t join her, preferring to stay and help Margaret and Dilys sort through their grandmother’s possessions and put them into storage, but she stressed that Rosa should be accompanied by one of the stable hands. To placate her, Rosa agreed.

  In no time a horse was saddled and she was cantering out of the yard, Thomas, the stable boy, hard pressed to keep up. The air was warm and heavy with a fragrance of the trees and undergrowth. She halted her horse on a rise, beneath some giant elms that cast a web of shadows around her. Below her the lake was bathed in bright sunlight, a shimmering, radiant expanse of water. She sighed. It was perfect. She felt dazed with the colours and the sunlight and the beauty of it all. The water beckoned. What a pity she was unable to bathe.

  To the left of her a ribbon of water cascaded over stone steps carved out of the hillside. A splendid baroque temple stood at the top. The water tumbled into a deep pool spanned by the three-arched stone bridge before flowing into the wider body of the lake. To the right the house was perfect in its setting. With its surrounding gardens and fronted by the lake, it seemed to be slumbering in a golden peacefulness.

  Breathing deeply
, she closed her eyes. Ashurst Park had a timeless quality. Nothing mattered. Nothing existed but the moment.

  It left her totally unprepared for what was about to unfold. Seeing a flash of bright blue on the bridge, she watched as it took form. It was the Indian child, out walking with his Indian nurse and a maid. Unconcerned, she continued to watch, the boy’s happy laughter reaching her. She saw him point to the temple above, and before the nurse could take his hand he scampered off, the nurse, hampered by her skirts, shouting for him to come back as she ran after him. Fear began to unfurl in the pit of Rosa’s stomach. She saw the child leave the bridge and run round the pool at the bottom of the cascade to begin to climb the slope beside the tumbling water and move closer to danger.

  Alarm shot through her and, calling to Thomas to follow her, she urged her horse on. On reaching the bridge she flung herself off her mount and looked up the slope, hoping to see the boy. There was no sight of him, only the nurse and maid scrambling up the grassy slope. Then she saw a flash of bright blue in the fast-flowing cascade, carrying the boy down and into the pool. Without thought she hurriedly unfastened her boots and kicked them off her feet before throwing off her hat and removing her jacket and the skirt she wore over her breeches, knowing the heaviness of the thick fabric would drag her down. Over the parapet she saw the boy gasping for breath and flailing and floundering about wildly, before disappearing beneath the water.

  Scrambling down the steep bank, filling her lungs with air, Rosa dived into the water, trying not to think of the unimaginable depths beneath her. After bobbing up to the surface once more, terror and panic on his little face, the child was dragged down once more.

  * * *

  Upon seeing a horse and rider emerge from the trees further along the hill from where he was and go tearing down towards the lake, another rider following in her wake, William also saw Dhanu climbing up beside the cascade of fiercely tumbling water. Fully alert to the fact that he was liable to fall in, William touched his heels to the stallion’s flanks, sending him forward. He now knew that the rider who had reached the bridge before him was Rosa Ingram. A strange mixture of fear and relief swept over him. Reaching the bridge, he threw himself out of the saddle at the same moment she disappeared from his sight beneath the dark swirling, frothing water.