Summer at Dorne

by Mira Stables

  Chantal stared at her in dismay. “Oh dear! And I was quite shockingly rude to him,” she exclaimed.

  “Were you, my dear? Do tell me,” said Dominic’s unnatural mama.

  She chuckled over the faltering recital and assured the girl that her son was not one to take a pet for so small a matter: In fact, she added shrewdly, it had probably amused him, and possibly even provided him with a much needed lesson. “For he is apt to address all females as though they are either still in the nursery or half-witted,” she explained serenely, “and it is high time that he learned better. Believe me, my dear, I am positively grateful to you for extending his education in this respect.”

  If Chantal could not take quite such a light-hearted view of her own behaviour she was a little comforted, though she was still resolved to mend matters at the first opportunity.

  This occurred after dinner, when Dominic, following his usual custom, strolled out on to the terrace to smoke a cigar, a habit deeply deplored by his mama. Chantal excused herself to her hostess and followed him. He turned at the sound of her footsteps and awaited her coming. Being Chantal she went straight to the point without preamble.

  “I wanted to thank you, milord, for the trouble you have taken over my wretched affairs. For going to see Mr. Parker yourself and for arranging about money matters, but most of all for your enquiries about my father. Indeed I should thank you for all your kindness to me since chance threw me in your path, and it ill beseems me to be ripping up at you as I did this afternoon. For that I beg your pardon.”

  Dominic badly wanted to laugh. The shy, stiff little voice made her sound like a seven-year-old with a lesson well conned. He said politely, “You make too much of it, ma’am. Since I had to be in Town any way, it cost me small pains to deliver your letter myself. Mama and I were agreed that it would be foolish to risk its falling into the wrong hands. As for the other enquiries – it is my father who deserves your thanks. He has a wide acquaintance in government circles and knew just the man to approach. May I, however, say that it has given me much pleasure to be the bearer of more comfortable tidings. It would make me even happier if I could also give your dear cousin his due deserts. But that, alas, seems unlikely, since it is an object with us to avoid an encounter with him at this present.”

  He did not refer to her apology, and for this she was grateful. It was, after all, so small a matter. They took a turn or two about the terrace, Dominic speaking of the arrangements to be set in hand for their journey north in so interesting and sensible a fashion that any lingering embarrassment was banished and she found herself actually liking him very well.

  Chapter Five

  This comfortable state of affairs was not destined to last. Coming into the library next morning to see if Oliver was ready to go out with her, Chantal found him seated at a desk piled high with papers.

  He gave her his attractive twisted grin. “Sorry, m’dear. One or two matters in this little lot need prompt attention. Will you hold me excused this morning? No need to forego your lesson. Here is my idle brother with no better employment on hand. He may very well tend to your instruction. And to do him justice he is a better practitioner with rod and line than ever I was.”

  It seemed to Chantal manifestly unfair that one brother should spend this lovely morning wrestling with musty old papers while the other disported himself in the sunshine. She accompanied Dominic obediently but a tiny frown creased her brow as she considered what seemed to her a very idle existence.

  Dominic said resignedly, “Now what’s amiss? For well I know when you wear that Friday face that I have done something to displease your ladyship.”

  She had not thought herself so transparent. But since he had asked, he might as well hear the truth.

  “Could you not have helped your brother with his work?” she said stiffly.

  “I could,” he retorted, “but I have no intention of doing so. It is estate business and no concern of mine.”

  The tone implied that it was no concern of hers either. She flushed hotly, but refused to be so easily silenced. “It is strange to find two brothers so different in temperament,” she told him meditatively.

  “You find us so?”

  “Your brother is so conscientious; so wholly devoted to the Merriden interest, while you seem to care little for it. You must know how happy it would make your mama if you were to marry and set up your nursery, besides giving your father the comfort of seeing the succession secure.”

  “If ever I find another woman the equal of mama, I might even be cajoled into matrimony,” he said indifferently. “As for the succession, you are talking nonsense. There are several broods of cousins littering the countryside, so there is no cause for anxiety.”

  Still she persisted. “Surely you must have some feeling for your home. For the lands that Merridens have held for centuries and for the people who have served your family for generation after generation?”

  He seemed to give this some consideration. “I am fond of this place,” he agreed judicially. “And both Oliver and I are much attached to Dorne, which is any small boy’s idea of Paradise. But Merriden Castle, my father’s principal seat, is quite hideously ugly, as well as shockingly inconvenient. Were you picturing it as some romantic Gothic survival? Nothing of the sort, I assure you. As for the tenantry” – the light casual voice was suddenly serious – “I do not concern myself with them. It is Oliver who is my father’s heir. He can never hope to walk or ride over the lands that will one day be his. But he can drive out to visit his tenants, discuss their problems and listen to their views. On paper he can know every field – what crops will do well, whether the soil is rich or poor or subject to flood, a dozen different details that will serve to endear him to his people. Would you have me take over the one thing that he can do superlatively well?”

  She was silenced – indeed abashed, for she could see exactly what he meant. She turned impulsively to express her regret for so misjudging him, but the lean, hard face looked so cold, so forbidding, that the words died on her lips. She murmured rather foolishly, “No. Of course you could not. I had not thought of it like that,” and wondered once more why this man must always put her in the wrong or find her in some foolish predicament. It aroused in her a slightly ridiculous determination to show at her best under his tuition.

  Alas! Determination is not conducive to ease and flexibility. After half a dozen disastrous casts she was hot and angry and very much inclined to blame her tutor, who was wisely restricting his advice to a minimum. She said crossly, “What am I doing wrong? I’ve never been so clumsy before, not even the first day.”

  “Your stance is not quite right,” he said carefully, “and you are holding the rod with your thumb curled round it instead of extended along the butt. See – like this.”

  He came to stand behind her and placed the fingers and thumb of her right hand in the correct position. Then, with his left hand grasping her shoulder and his right closed firmly over hers, he made several trial casts, so that she could catch the rhythm of the movements.

  Standing so, Chantal was vividly conscious of the warmth of his body, of the strength in the hands that held her so firmly yet so impersonally. To her later shame and fury, an unusual surge of feeling swept through her, a longing to lean back against his shoulder and feel those powerful arms close round her.

  It lasted only a moment. Then she said rather breathlessly, “I think I have it now. May I try again?” And was released.

  Fortunately the next two or three casts were rather better, and presently she was able to lay aside the rod and say that she had had enough for the time being. She must change her dress, she explained, since she meant to drive out with his mother; and was able to withdraw from the scene of that curious experience in reasonably good order.

  She could not, however, put it out of her mind quite so easily. She had only to recall the circumstances to feel some faint resurgence of the longing that had shaken her. There was no understanding it, for she did not
even like Dominic Merriden above half. So she was at considerable pains to find some explanation for her shameful reaction to his proximity. But it was not until she was making ready for bed that it came to her. Of course! Lonely and apprehensive as she inevitably was, despite the kindness of her new friends, instinct was bidding her seek some safe anchorage. What more natural, then, than that she should turn to Dominic, the very epitome of strength and careless vigour?

  She sighed her relief that she had not, after all, succumbed to a foolish passion for a wholly unresponsive gentleman, blew out her candle and snuggled down between the sheets.

  It was easy enough to maintain this comfortable self-deception during the remainder of her stay at Claverton. There was much to be done in preparation for a prolonged sojourn in what, the marchioness warned her, was a very isolated spot. No one could rely on a summer of unbroken fine weather, and some provision must be made for wet days. Chantal must select all the books she might need from the library, for there was none worth the mention at Dorne. Anything that she required for her embroidery must be bought in Bath, and Dominic undertook to purchase a selection of music by her favourite composers. Though there was no library at Dorne, there was a music room which the family used on all informal occasions instead of the rather prim drawing room. All of them were musical in an amateur fashion and many a leisurely evening was beguiled in listening to Oliver’s violin or Dominic’s singing.

  “Which makes it particularly fortunate that you are such an accomplished pianist,” added Lady Dorne happily.

  Chantal was a little startled by the size of the cavalcade that was eventually assembled for the journey. She had realised that special provision would have to be made for Oliver’s comfort, but the extent of that provision surprised her. The travelling coach had been built to order by one of Longacre’s foremost craftsmen. Wide doors permitted the wheel chair to be lifted in and strapped into position beside a single seat facing the horses. For much of the journey Chantal occupied that seat, though Oliver urged her to ride whenever the weather was favourable.

  “For you are not to be sitting mewed up in a stuffy carriage all day in attendance on a crotchety cripple,” he told her firmly.

  Sometimes Dominic came to join them but mostly he preferred to ride, so Oliver was Chantal’s chief companion, and an agreeable one she found him, well-informed without being boringly garrulous.

  The marchioness had gone back to Town, with many promises of letters to be exchanged and a possible visit to Dorne in August. “You can stay there very comfortably until September is out,” she had said. “Perhaps your affairs will be settled by then. My husband and I will do our utmost to hasten matters but obviously we must move with caution for fear of betraying your whereabouts.”

  Chantal was in the mood to be hopeful about the future. A month of freedom from the unnatural strain of the past year had restored her spirits as much as good food had revitalised her body, and she was once again the eager vigorous creature that nature had intended.

  On the last two or three evenings at Claverton she had worn some of her prettiest new gowns, on the pretext that there would be small opportunity of wearing them at Dorne. She had looked quite delightfully, the sheen of health once more on hair and skin, and Oliver had immediately entered a strong objection to her remarks about wearing the dresses.

  “We are not savages, you know, even if we do hail from north of the border. Think of my brother’s artistic eye and the pleasure that your appearance must give him! Perhaps if we have made a long day’s excursion we may be lazy and dress informally, but if the weather keeps us indoors, then Nick and I will change into evening rig and you must do so too. Then we can feast our eyes on beauty and our ears on music,” he added with one of his comical little bows.

  The gentleman with the artistic eye did not endorse his brother’s suggestion but neither did he object to the prospect of being obliged, to change his dress for dinner when he was supposedly rusticating. The marchioness, studying his impassive countenance, wondered how long he would hold out against this enchanting young creature who was blossoming before their eyes. If he did not succumb before the summer was out, then she would indeed despair of him.

  They took a fortnight over the journey. It could have been accomplished in half the time, but they did not hurry, and they made a wide detour to spend a couple of nights at Merriden. Dominic said it would do them all good to have a rest from the continual jounce and sway of the carriage, and that he wanted to show Jan just how accurately he had described the place.

  At the outset Chantal had wondered how they would ever find accommodation for so large a party. Since the month was June, the most favoured month of all for those who must travel, inns were likely to be crowded. She foresaw considerable discomfort. She was to discover how much wealth and good organisation could do to smooth the way. Couriers had been sent ahead to engage rooms, to arrange for changes of horses, even to order tempting meals. The travellers had nothing to do but enjoy the passing scene and each other’s society. She was reluctantly obliged to concede that once again she had underestimated Lord Dominic’s capabilities. Even though it had secured her comfort she found herself resenting his efficiency.

  The first day had seemed very long. By the time they reached Gloucester she was heartily sick of the confinement of the coach and thankful to submit to the ministrations of the comfortable abigail whom the marchioness had selected as her attendant.

  “She’ll not be able to dress your hair in the latest mode or advise you as to fashion’s newest quirks,” that lady had warned, “but if you are travel-sick or take a feverish cold she will know just what to do.”

  Tonight Chantal had good cause to bless the marchioness’s forethought. Hilda was deft and placid. It was a refreshed and well-groomed girl who presently joined the gentlemen for dinner.

  They were apologetic for the boredom that she had been required to endure. At least Oliver was. Dominic said only that he felt they might now consider themselves safe from recognition and, this being so, might venture to look about the city next day. Chantal, who had never chanced to visit it before, welcomed the suggestion eagerly. The cathedral was particularly fine, he told her, and the remains of the old city walls would doubtless appeal to a female with sentimental yearnings for days long past.

  The morning’s strolling exploration set the pattern for many which were to follow. Oliver, sensitive over his disabilities, did not accompany them, but was ready to lend an interested ear to Chantal’s animated account of all that they had seen and appeared to share her sentiments more fully than his brother. They lunched early and set off on the next stage of their journey – a short one this time, a mere twenty miles through the vale of Evesham. They lay that night at Evesham itself and spent the next morning in exploration of the little town gazing respectfully at the site of the battle on Green Hill and appreciatively at the beautiful old Bell Tower.

  Another short stage took them to Stratford-on-Avon. Chantal, suspecting that they were deliberately dawdling for her pleasure when they would rather have pressed on to Dorne, taxed them with indulging her more than was reasonable. Oliver looked guilty and murmured something rather unconvincing about short stages being better for him. Dominic, brushing aside the halting phrases, said coolly, “Nothing of the kind. We are merely attending to the sad gaps in your education. Who was it who thought ‘Measure for Measure’ was a Sheridan comedy? Well – we are coming into Shakespeare country now – shall actually pass through the Forest of Arden. Can you, my little ignoramus, tell us which of the bard’s plays uses Arden as its setting?”

  Chantal had no idea – but she forgot all about her well founded reproaches. And she was too wise to indulge in rash guesses. “If we are to talk of ignorance,” she retorted with spirit, “who was it who had never heard of Simon de Montfort or the battle of Evesham?”

  Dominic grinned. “That swashbuckling revolutionary? A fellow of very dubious moral character, too, if I am to believe what I read in that very i
nteresting book that you so obligingly pressed upon me. I’d be willing to wager a handsome sum that he seduced the king’s sister in order to force Henry’s consent to the marriage. I cannot understand your admiration for such a villain.”

  Chantal flushed hotly. Simon de Montfort was her particular hero. Where others of her friends had admired Richard Coeur de Lion or the Black Prince, some quirk of imagination had fixed her girlish devotion on the long dead Earl of Leicester. Dominic’s charges might well be justified, but Earl Simon had captured her fancy. If she had been King Henry’s sister – She blushed more hotly than ever and said furiously, “At least he was a man. He didn’t just sneer and criticise other people and do nothing. He loved and he fought and he lost and he died, but he lived his life to the full.”

  There was a horrid little silence. Then Oliver said mildly, “If you two have done arguing over de Montfort, perhaps we may return to Master Shakespeare. There is what is left of the Forest of Arden, Jan.” He gestured towards it. “As for Earl Simon, perhaps I should warn you that there is some vague connection between our families. Possibly some of that warrior blood flows in our veins. Not that I have ever bothered to trace the relationship, but Mama, who seems to share your predilection for these fire-eaters, has frequently boasted of it. A pity that you must make do with his milk-and-water off-shoots, but I daresay you will find them much more comfortable to live with. All that armour, you know.”

  Which made both contestants laugh and so served the speaker’s purpose admirably.

  They dawdled on happily through the heart of Shakespeare’s England; through Leamington and Kenilworth to Ashby de la Zouche. The two days that they spent at Merriden helped foster the better understanding that was developing between the former antagonists. To see Dominic, always in the background, apparently only idly interested in his brother’s business dealings yet ever alert to support and further Oliver’s wishes, ever watchful to prevent the possibility of over-fatigue, could not but give one a better notion of him, thought Chantal penitently. True, he was just as dictatorial as ever. But when his decisions were applied to someone other than herself, she could see that he was quite frequently right. The servants, too, obviously held him in respect and affection. There were enquiries after relatives, references to old-established jokes, reports on the progress of sons and daughters.